#stoop baby mo

[umeoniii]

aot men during sex

pt 1: eren, armin, jean,

!!: female bodied reader, nsfw, aggressive behaviors

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

eren: i lowkey feel like he would be more on the aggressive side during sex. slapping, grabbing, hair pulling, headboard grabbing, ALL OF IT. i feel like after a really bad day like he’d obviously be very angry, you guys would get into an argument, then you’d end up seducing him or trying to make him feel better. and he’d literally fuck his stress and anger onto you. if i’m being honest if it was a horrible day he probably won’t even let you cum. but it wouldn’t matter because you’re happy if he’s somewhat okay. he likes missionary and doggy style and he’s both a giver and reviver though he prefers to give most of the time.

☆〜

“eren” you call out to your lover as he takes off his shoes. when he turns his head and you two lock eyes you notice a distressed look all over his face.

“hey you okay baby, was today another bad day?” you ask him. his response to the question was turning his head from you and sitting on the couch. “are you ignoring me?” you ask him as he skips through the channels on the tv. it’s not my fault he was having a bad day, so why is he ignoring me? you thought to yourself.

you sit down on the couch next to him creating a little bit of distance, but not too much. when you sit down he glances at you with a cold look. “do me a favor, get up and get me a glass of water.” he says not even taking the time to look at you.

“please”, you say to him hoping he’d at least use his manners. “im not in the mood to play with you y/n” he growls still not looking at you. “or what, what are you gonna do to me huh?” you tease thinking nothing of it. “im not fucking playing, today i’ve have an abominable day and you’re making things worse, don’t think i won’t do anything to you.” he yells as he gets up from the couch and grabs your face.

it scared you, you knew he could be a little aggressive at times but to think he would stoop this low, especially over a bad day at work. it lowkey turned you on being as helpless as you were.

you stared him straight in the eyes and he returned the glance. after a few seconds, he picked you up and walked to your shared bedroom. he threw you onto the bed and started taking off his clothes. once he was fully unclothed he undressed you. he pulled of your shirt and started unclamping your bra letting your breasts free. you helped and pulled off your panties, freeing your wet, shimmering cunt.

he wasted absolutely no time to shove himself inside of you. “e-eren” you stutter, your mind going blank as he starts thrusting into you. “fuck, you feel so good babe” he grunts grabbing your cheeks, smushing them together. his green eyes meet yours, you can barley see him as your vision goes blank from so much pleasure and friction.

“i love you baby” he says somberly to you. no response. he notices you not saying anything back and stops thrusting. he grabs your hair and brings your head close to his, too close.

you can feel his heavy breathing and feel the humidity surrounding both of your skin. “i said i love you, what do you say back?” you whimper as his grip on your hair grows tighter,

“stop ‘ren, please it hurts.” you groan looking at him. he gives you an almost insulting, revolting look. he slaps the side of your thigh, leaving behind a red mark. you whimper loudly. “say it, i already had such a bad day, please just say it” he shouts looking at you exhaustedly.

“of course i love you too eren.” you say stil looking into the eyes of your boyfriend. he smiles and inserts himself back into you. he continues rutting inside of you, nothing but the sound your your skin slapping together echoing throughout the room.

you start to feel him twitch inside of you, “fuck im about to cum, let me cum inside of you babe.” he says still gripping onto your cheeks. you nod at him, with such a foggy brain. seconds later he starts twitching more and he grunts and whimpers softly to himself. after he finished he pulls out and lays down on the bed. he grabs you and pulls you closer to his chest. he chest heaving, “you can cum later on, can’t you baby?” he says rubbing your thigh that he slapped earlier on. you nod at him.

｡

armin: now i feel like armin is kind of like eren in the fact that sometimes he doesn’t care if his partner finishes or not. sure he loves them but he’d probably just manipulate and whine his way into being the one receiving. BUT he’s not like that all the time, more or less 1/4 of the times. i feel like armin likes cowgirl, he likes when his s/o is more in control over him. he likes receiving, he does like giving but he much more prefers getting than giving. he loves it when his s/o sucks his dick.

☆〜

you run into the living room to armin seeing his eyes glued on the tv screen. “hey! pause it! im still trying to fix the snacks and you’re trying to watch it without me!” you yell at armin snatching the remote from his hands.

he turns around and looks at you “you’re taking too long and i want to hurry up and watch the movie” he whines looking at you. “just help me with the snacks, i clearly can’t trust you around the remote anymore.” you sigh dragging him into the kitchen. he helps put everything into the bowls and cups and sets them onto the table in the living room.

you both sit down on the couch together his arm around your shoulder. as the movie begins you try to adjust yourself making yourself comfortable, as you try to sit up you place your hand on his thigh. he moves a little, and with that movement your hand slips and brushes on his pants, over his crotch. he tried not to make anything of it, even though it was clear it started a fire in him, burning until you, the extinguisher , puts it out. 

you look at him noticing his face is flushed a crimson red. you ignore it and return giving your undivided attention to the movie. as time passes you notice armin moving around in his place, obviously not comfortable.

“you okay?” you shoot him a concerned look. “uh, yeah.” he says nervously looking back at the tv. obviously something wasn’t okay, maybe it had something to do with you accidentally touching his crotch area? you repeat your previous actions just to see if the theory was correct. he looked towards you “are you doing it on purpose?”. you look at him with a mischievous grin. “yeah.” he grabs the remote and pauses the tv.

“since you want it so bad, suck it.” he says in a serious tone. as if you were a dog following it’s owners commands, you unzipped his pants. after you pulled down his boxers you held his cock in your hand. as you held it you felt it get harder and elongate.

you start by kissing down his shaft and tip. he throws his head back onto the armrest of the couch. you start to suck his dick, shoving the whole of it down your throat trying your hardest not to choke. “fuck” he whines quietly to himself. you hollow out your cheeks and starts swirling your tongue around his sensitive pink tip. he slides his fingers into your hair and grips it, then he starts bobbing your head on his dick.

you use your hands to start jerking him using your own spit as lubricant. you look up at him with a grin and run your hands up his shirt feeling the hair from his happy trail all the way up to his chest. he looks down at you with a lazy smirk. “im gonna cum” he stutters.

he gets his thumb and uses it to extend the corner of your mouth as you continue to jerk him off above your mouth. and as quick as possible white strings of semen coats your face, hair, and tongue. as he whimpers and whines off his orgasm. he looks at you and pulls you in for a soft kiss. “let’s continue take the movie to our room” you say smiling at him.

　　　　　　　　　。

jean: i think that jean would definitely be a switch. totally. jean is more of the romantic type, he does it for everyone involved. he literally prepares every last detail. he’s the type to put a trail of rose petals leading up to the bed on the ground and he’s just laying on silk sheets with a silk robe on and a smirk LOL. he prefers giving, anything for his s/o. his favorite positions are cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, and doggy. cowgirl is his fav, he likes when his s/o rides him.

☆〜

tulips, my favorite you thought to yourself looking at the beautiful flowers jean bought for you. valentine’s day was today and jean spoiled you to death. he took you out to the mall, out for boba, to the movies, and he took you out to a super fancy restaurant. he bought you so much jewelry, clothes, makeup, and a lot of other things.

you looked at him while he was driving, his tattooed arm on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. “i told you how beautiful you look in that red dress, right?” he said looking towards you, the streetlights illuminating his face. you chuckle “like only a million times”, you look out the window.

he pulls up to your shared apartment. you open the door of his car. “ah ah, close the door” he says, you shoot him a confused look. he gets out and walks towards the passenger side and opens the door for you. “such a gentleman” you joke, kissing your lover on the cheek. you guys walk into the building and get into the elevator to your floor. once you guys reach it he was in a rush to get inside.

he carried the various bags to your shared bedroom and dropped them on the floor. you sit onto the bed with your arms crossed. “it’s cold.” you shiver looking around.

“ i can help us both get warm” he smirks. “by turning off the air?” you question.

“no you just wait here.” he says running off to the living room. you heard him go into the bathroom rustling around.

“okay, get up” he beckons you to stand. you get up and he gets behind you covering your eyes.

“now walk forward” you follow his requests and walk towards what you’re sure is the bathroom.

“okay now open” when you open your eyes your delighted to see the bathroom filled with candles and rose petals and champagne in a bucket of ice. he had a speaker playing slow r&b songs. you look at him with a smile.

you both undress and sit in the tub together. he looks at you admirably as if you’re an earth bound angel. he started running the back of his palms up your arm and muttering sweet praises.

“c’mere” he beckons you to his lap he starts kissing at your back and nibling on your shoulder and neck. you let out a relived groan. you turn your head towards him and start making out with him, your tongues swirling around each others mouths. he grabs you and brings you as close as possible. you then pull away.

“what? did i do something” he asks concerned.

“no, no let’s just… take this somewhere else. the water is probably not the best place to do this” you smile sheepishly. he picks you up bridal style and takes you to the bedroom where he drops lays you on the bed. still wet, he continues kisses down you body.

passionate kisses marking down the valley between your breasts going all the way down to your pussy. he kisses and laps at your cunt for a few seconds before he moves to the top of the bed and leans his back against the headboard, motioning for you to ride him.

you oblige and insert his cock into your cunt. you start slow by grinding slowly while he holds your waist. he can see his bulge through your stomach. you continue to go faster as he looks up at you with the most loving look on his face. you wrap your arms around his neck and lay your head on top of his as you continue to ride him.

bouncing up and down you can feel your orgasm coming and you can feel jean twitching inside of you. “im about to cum jean.” you look raise your head and look at him. “im getting close to, let’s cum together baby” he grunts looking up at you. you grind into his lap more and feel it all crashing down a wave of please pulsing through both you and your lovers veins. he cums inside of you and holds you tight. embracing him in a tight hug you ask him, “what are we gonna do about the wet sheets?”

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

a/n: omg guys this the longest thing i’ve written. i like it a lot though, i did very well. requests are open! pt 2: is gonna be bertholdt, reiner, and levi. then im gonna do the ladies >:)

[ladykagewaki]

WIP: I Am Mrs Hemlock

I dabble in writing now and then, and the Bad Batch finale inspired me to think about the other people in Hemlock's life. I can't seem to finish this fic, but here's a little bit of it below the cut.

@zaya-mo @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @ladykatakuri @marierg @thecoffeelorian @salubriousbean

Childhood

Ereene stood on the stoop of the Hemlocks house and knocked on the door. She couldn't quite reach the doorbell. She waited patiently until the inner door opened, and Mrs Hemlock looked down and smiled at her.

The young girl with white ribbons tied around her light brown pigtails said "Hello Mrs Hemlock. I have the homework for this week. I hope Royce is feeling better!"

Royce's mother smiled and said "Thank you, Ereene. He gets stronger every day." Royce's mother took the school datapad and said "I hope you and your family are well?"

"Oh yes. Both mother and father are back from the Core and Tam is back from his school. We're going to have a family dinner today!"

A sick little boy with dark hair, ghostly blue eyes, and an anemic complexion lay in an oversized bed upstairs in his home. He wanted to read, but could hardly keep his eyes open. Then he heard a knock on the door downstairs and perked right up! He flung his blankets aside and slide out of the high bed. Once his two bare feet hit the ground his head began to spin. He took a few wobbly steps in his bedroom toward the door then fell on the wooden floor. Royce got to his knees and crawled through the door.

The noise of the boy falling on the floor caught his mother's attention "Oh!" She looked behind her and saw her sons head poke around the corner at the head of the grand staircase.

Royce saw Ereene and disappointed it wasn't one of his friends sighed. He saw her smile and wave, and found he couldn't help but return the gesture.

His mother, the loving and caring woman she was, saw the waving and instead of chastising her son smiled sadly. He was lonely and this was the only interaction with kids outside his brothers she could think of in weeks. Mrs Hemlock thanked Ereene and sent the girl on her way.

Royce watched his mother, hair and makeup done, and dressed in one of her favorite printed house tunics start up the stairs. She held up the datapad and said "Maybe this will entertain you?"

He took the datapad, leaned back on the Bannister in his pajamas and skimmed the assignments while she took a seat on the steps next to him "Hardly" he answered sullenly.

With a mix of pride and heartache she said "Well, maybe it's better that these assignments aren't too challenging. The doctor did say getting over such a poisoning will just take time." She stroked his thick black hair cherishing her eldest son. She had suffered through the loss of her first infant and had trouble conceiving for years until Royce arrived. He was later joined by two younger brothers, but Royce was the family's golden child. All the children were well cared for and doted upon.

"Thanks mother. Will father be home for dinner today?"

"Unfortunately no. His work at the factory will keep him late. The business is expanding and he is negotiating with some Republic officials. He told me this could really help expand the business!"

The boy sighed but did not make a fuss. His mother helped him back to his room and into bed. She sat with him and chatted until the nanny droids commed her about the baby and toddler they were minding elsewhere.

Ereene joined her governess droid on the sidewalk and it escorted her to the transport waiting for her. Ereene liked this neighborhood and noted the big tree lined street and decorative wrought iron gated homes. Her mother had said this neighborhood was *af-flu-ent* but very *new credit.* The little girl didn't understand what that meant, but she knew her diplomat parents thought it was bad. She thought the neighborhood was very nice. The gardens in front of the large red stone houses were tended by droids and Ereene happily skipped along in her frilly dress into the transport.

Teen Years

"Oh my stars, he's graduating with us?" whispered Ereene to the young lady next to her. "I figured with all his illness he would've been behind a year at least!" Rows upon rows of human students sat in alphabetical order costumed in the ceremonial graduation garb on the manicured lawn of their esteemed academy. Their guests and family members sat beyond them to observe and celebrate the day.

The young woman whispered "Royce Hemlock? Are you kidding? I think he was faking because school was boring. School was no challenge for him, even missing all that time."

A girl behind them overheard and leaned forward contributing "I don't think he was faking. I heard his father is grooming his younger brother to take over the family business because he was so sickly!"

"What's he doing up on the stage?" Asked Ereene. Hemlock's face was neutral, revealing none of his thoughts about this momentous day. He wore the distinctive tasselled cap and a billowy robe of black with a green and gold sash indicating his status and role. He was gazing at the crowd with his hands resting on his knees. His father had an unfortunate accident at the factory forcing his mother to step in as head. Despite the loss of his father his mother was there with his two brothers. Once he spotted them in the crowd he gave them a subtle nod.

The girl behind Ereene scoffed and said "He's our valedictorian. I hear he has full scholarship to some science university..."

As the two other girls gossiped with each other Ereene accidentally made eye contact with Royce. They both recognized each other and a small smile curved his lips. With a slight cock of his head he subtly lifted his hand from his knee to give her a tiny wave. It caused a broad smile to break out on her face and she gave a small wave back.

After the graduation ceremony the students wandered the lawn searching for their family members. Ereene heard her name as she searched the crowd for her parents and brother. "Ereene, is it?" The voice was soft spoken, but held a charismatic power. She turned towards the voice and saw Royce approaching her, hands folded behind his back.

She suddenly felt a bit dizzy. "Um, yes! Hi, eh, Royce! Congratulations! I, uh, I had no idea you..." She gestured to the stage upon which he had given an eloquent adress speech.

He said "I credit it all to your help"

They both chuckled and she replied "Well, dropping off your homework once may have tipped the scales, but I can't take ALL the credit.

They both allowed themselves to laugh unabashedly but did not break their eye contact. They were connected. His gaze on her was deep, but not unpleasantly intense. They gazed in each other's eyes silently for a few long moments. The din of cheers and the giddy cries of happiness around them faded away. Hemlock's soft voice carried over all of it into her ears "Perhaps later this week we could meet for caf?"

And they did.

[sparkedblaze]

Omg I actually wrote something new???

Omg it's newsies related. You're shocked ik

Omg it's painful??? Gasp shock horror

@badthingshappenbingo

You Can't Leave Me Here

Summary:

T/W: Stabbing, Injury, Blood, Talk of Death/Dying, Minor Religion

Oscar has never been so scared of anything in his life as much as he is losing his baby brother.

“C’mon, Medda. You here late every night. You got a place to sleep, I know you do,” his throat was tight as he continued beating on the door. “Medda! Open up!!” The door swung open, revealing a disheveled, wide-eyed Medda tying her robe. “Oscar? What’s goin’ on?” “Mo- he-” Oscar was trying to choke out the words. He instead stooped to lift Morris once more, not waiting for an invitation before pushing past Medda and into the theater. “Is that *blood*?”

[renee-writer]

Letters Chapter 35

AO3

“It keeps him safe,” Claire explains as she straps Alexander into the car seat, “protects him should an accident happen “

 

The lad is a day old and they are taken him home. Jamie is fearful. Now that both his son and wife survived his delivery, the need to get them safely back under the Lallybroch ‘s roof is paramount.

 

To do that, the wee lad has to be placed in the horseless carriage. The idea of his son in the strange thing isn’t comforting. Aye, Claire insists it is safe but…

 

“He is very safe back there.” She says. Easing herself in, she takes a breath before strapping her own self in. He knows she is still sore from his delivery.

 

“We cannot see him, Sassanach. What if…” He faces the back.

 

“Jamie he is more protected riding that way. It is just a fifteen minute journey.”

 

“I will be joining him back there.” He decides. Opening the back door, he slides in beside his son. Claire smiles and starts the cat.  A bit of a difference then most leaving hospital with a newborn. Usually it is the new mum by the baby while daddy drives them home.

 

She pulls up and parks by the front stoop. It seems to have grown since she saw it, two days ago.  With a sigh, she opens the door.  

 

Jamie jumps out and hurries over to her. “Are you alright, Claire? Your color is poor.”

 

“Just exhausted. Once we get Alexander and his things in and I can sit down, I will be fine.”

 

Driving, she decides, isn’t something she will be doing a lot of for awhile. It wore her out.

 

She walks over and undoes the straps and buckles holding the baby in. She lifts him out. Jamie is getting the things out of the boot. Gifts from Glenda and John, a nappy bag full of them, from the hospital. Cards and balloons from the distillery and her work mates.

 

Both have their hands full as they make their way up the stoop.  Jamie hovers close to her and his son. He lays aside some of the things to open the door.

 

Alexander enters Lallybroch.

 

“Welcome home mo mhac.”

 

Claire slumps on the couch and let’s out a deep sigh. “That’s better.” Jamie lays all down on the floor. He takes a seat in the chair by her.

 

“Do you need anything?”

 

Alexander starts to root around on his mama ‘s chest.  “Our son is hungry. Will you bring me some water?” He nods and stands. The water glass she had from the hospital was with the things he sat in the floor.  He finds the right bag, pulls it out, and goes to fill it.

 

Ice, another amazing thing about this time, is fetched from the freezer. He fills it with ice water.

 

She half sits and half lays on the couch, Alexander at her breast. His fist lays across the other one. She is smiling down at him. His daddy feels a tenderness so deep it takes his breath.

 

He never could imagine seeing their child at her breast. Not after…  Before when she carried Faith, he had thought of it. Her nourishing the babe , the thought made him feel as fragile as a bubble and filled him with a strength that could break an iron bar to protect them.

 

He couldn’t , not then. He can now. The glass, she calls a bottle, is handed to her. He then sits, lifts her feet across his lap, and slips her shoes off before rubbing them.

[darkfalcon-z]

a fragment of next chapter of my MDZS fic (it's intersex mpreg, timeline after Stone Goddes). Somehow writing is a hurdle recently...

Lan Wangji stooped down to help Wei Wuxian to his fit. Gently, he took Wei Wuxian’s hand in his own, as if Wei Wuxian’s hand deserved utmost reverence, and steadied him with the other. They raised together.

Wei Wuxian was surprised given that Lan Wangji disliked touching other people. He was in awe of Lan Wangji’s gallant behaviour. He treated Wei Wuxian as if he was a respected daughter of some esteemed family, despite all the evidence to the contrary. Of course Lan Wangji could not know who he was. Undoubtedly if he knew he would have had acted differently.

Wei Wuxian inclines his head appreciatively. “This humble one thanks Hanguang-Jun.”

“Can you walk?” Lan Wangji asked. There was a miniscule crease between his eyebrows

 “I think so.” He felt dizzy and his legs were shaking with exhaustion, but he could probably walk for a bit. “ I…uhm… need to find my donkey and I’ll go.” His gratitude for Lan Wangji unexpected assistance was earnest, but he still needed to leave as soon as possible. He stepped forth but his legs betrayed him and he immediately stumbled. Instinctively he grasped Lan Wangji’s arm to support himself, he would have fallen again if Lan Wangji didn’t hold him.

Now, that’s was fucking great. How was he going to get away if he couldn’t walk?

“Sorry,” he said abashed. “I didn’t mean to grab you.”

Lan Wangji sent him assessing glance. He had to let go of him yet. “Find his donkey,” he commanded junior disciples.

“There’s no need to trouble yourselves, I just…” Wei Wuxian hadn’t manage to finish explain that he’ll certainly be able to find Little Apple on his own and that cultivators can certainly go a leave him already before Lan Wangji wrapped his arms behind Wei Wuxian’s back and knees and hoisted him up.

“Why, Hanguang-jun! So forward!” He cried out. “Taking such liberties with my person,” he added before he thought to stop himself. But how was he supposed to react to that? Lan Wangji hated touching people he didn’t know! Why was he doing this? Wei Wuxian hoped wouldn’t drop him now for his immodest insinuation.

Surely he wouldn’t. Considering Wei Wuxian was pregnant Lan Wangji he would certainly let him down on the ground gently as to not hurt his baby.

Lan Wangji did neither. Instead he continued to carry Wei Wuxian

Wei Wuxian buried his face in hands and groaned. “Hanguang-Jun, please, you  leave me no face. How does it look for me to be carried by another man like his bride?”

Lan Wangji seemed to inhale more deeply. But Wei Wuxian couldn’t be so heave, could he? Mo Xuanyu’s body was slight, underfed, despite pregnancy he couldn’t weight much.

[ao3feed-newsies]

You Can't Leave Me Here

by, SparkedBlaze by SparkedBlaze T/W: Stabbing, Injury, Blood, Talk of Death/Dying, Minor Religion Oscar has never been so scared of anything in his life as much as he is losing his baby brother. “C’mon, Medda. You here late every night. You got a place to sleep, I know you do,” his throat was tight as he continued beating on the door. “Medda! Open up!!” The door swung open, revealing a disheveled, wide-eyed Medda tying her robe. “Oscar? What’s goin’ on?” “Mo- he-” Oscar was trying to choke out the words. He instead stooped to lift Morris once more, not waiting for an invitation before pushing past Medda and into the theater. “Is that *blood*?” Words: 1421, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, Newsies (1992) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen Characters: Oscar Delancey, Morris Delancey, Medda Larkson | Medda Larkin Relationships: Morris Delancey & Oscar Delancey, Morris Delancey & Medda Larkson | Medda Larkin, Oscar Delancey & Medda Larkson | Medda Larkin Additional Tags: Oscar Delancey Needs A Hug, please for the love of god get this man some anxiety meds, and get morris some bubble wrap or smth, they both need it, get them therapy, oscar delancey needs therapy, morris delancey needs therapy, Bad Things Happen Bingo, BTHB, Prompt:, Bleeding through the Bandages, who the fuck needs to tag properly, i tag ao3 the same way i tag tumblr, with chaos and no planning, whoever needs to see it will see it, Oscar Delancey - Freeform, morris delancey - Freeform, the delancey brothers - Freeform, no beta we die like skittery's role in livesies read : https://ift.tt/dPDFAIn - November 28, 2023 at 02:04PM

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 464, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, blood, violence, death, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) neonatal death

WORDS: 1127

I smiled as I woke up slowly, finding that the kids had creeped in at some point during the night and were now curled up tightly around my husband, unborn daughter and I. I had started sleeping with my soulmate acting as the big spoon, not liking sleeping on my back while pregnant- it just felt weird.

Baby Tommy and little girl were boxed in with pillows on either sides of them, the two of them with their dollies as they slept peacefully. Elizabeth  was sleeping on her side with her knees curled up, Elle next to her with her American Girl doll eyes shut. Katie was sprawled out, seemingly taking up much of the bed as she snored softly.

I love my family, I found myself thinking as I fluttered a hand to my baby bump, smiling when I felt Baby Violet Marie awake and twirling about.

KICK KICK KICK PUNCH PUNCH PUNCH

“Good morning, Baby Violet Marie,” I giggled. “You are currently thirty weeks along and you are the size of a cabbage right now!”

KICK

“Good morning mommy!” Katie greeted me in a sleepy meep. “Happy birthday!”“You’re right, mo stór!” I told her. “Today is my birthday!”

“Yay yay!” cheered Baby Tommy as he slowly woke up. “Yay yay!”

“And today is little girl’s birthday!” Elizabeth proclaimed as she woke up.

“Yay yay!” giggled Baby Tommy as he rolled over and sat up. “Liddle gurl’s biwtdai! Yay yay!”

“Yay yay!” I cooed, reaching over to tickle my fingers onto his chubby man tummy. Baby Tommy got a weird look on his face before-

POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT

Everyone scrambled up- my with little girl and his dollie in my arms and the girls with their American Girl mini mes.

“Good morning everyone!” Peter yawned just then. “Well, not exactly how I wanted to wake up this morning.”

“My love…” I choked out, herding the kids with me out into the hallway, where we could breathe a bit easier.

Mittens came up the stairs just then and went into the master bedroom before exiting with a funny look on her catish face.

MEOW she yowled, making a swift beeline over to where the Ratajczyk girls- myself, Elizabeth, Elle, Katie, Jing, little girl and her dollie- were standing as we waiting to be joined by my husband and son once more. MEOW

“Meow yourself, miss kitty!” I sassed her, giggling as Katie stooped down and picked up the fluffy black and white cat up for some snuggles with little girl and Mama Wen Wen.

“Mitties!” giggled little girl, reaching out to pat in between her ears.

“Yes, that’s right, little girl!” I cooed as Elizabeth came up to take her from me. “Mittens!”

MEOW meowed Mittens before erupting into rumbling purrs.

PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUR

“Pwetty kitty, pwetty kitty, pwetty kitty, pwetty kitty, pwetty kitty, pwetty kitty, pwetty kitty, pwetty kitty…” little girl sang in a happy babble, cooing as Mittens reached out and began to gently bap at the child’s nose.

“Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur,” I sang. “Happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr purr purr.”

“Mama Wen Wen, mesies song?” little girl meeped.

“Yes, that’s right!” I told her as Peter was lumbering out from the master bedroom. “That song is the baseline for your song!”

“Kitty kitty!” she crowed. “Papa Pete- kitty kitty!”

“Oh yes, I know!” he told her, handing me Baby Tommy before carrying me down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Where is Daisy?” I asked, spying the dog with Shadow curled into her side. “Good dog!”

Daisy whined, not getting up as Elizabeth went over to pet her.

“Daddy?” she called out as Peter settled me into my chair at the dining room table.

“Yes, Bitty?” he asked, looking up as she appeared in the doorway, her hands clutching at a limp Shadow.

“I think Shadow is dead,” she announced in a sad tone of voice, offering the cat to her father.

“Oh no, Shadow!” My heart broke at the sight of my husband cradling his pet to his chest as he fought back tears.

“My love?” I said, pulling him to kneel in between his legs. “It’s okay to cry. You can be vulnerable with me.”

His lower lip tremored for a moment before he was sobbing into my chest, cradling his dead pet in his arm. Elizabeth set Elle down into her chair and left the room, coming back with an empty shoebox, which she set onto the table before wrapping her arms around her father.

It took Peter the better part of an hour before he was out in the backyard, digging a grave for the slim black cat. Katie was holding the shoebox that contained the body of the much beloved pet, and Elizabeth was holding the hands of little girl and Baby Tommy. Isabelle was holding all four dollies and I was sitting in a chair as the excitement was happening.

The funeral was quiet and somber, with everyone sharing a sentence about the skittish cat. The babies didn’t seem to understand what was going on as the Ratajczyk patriarch set the shoebox into the ground and covered it with dirt.

“My love?” I hummed when he finished, standing there staring at the impromptu gravesite with teary eyes. “Would you like it if I planted some flowers over Shadow? I’m thinking catnip, perhaps?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled as Mittens trotted over and sniffed at Shadow’s final resting place. “Yeah, that does sound nice.”

“Okay then,” I smiled, settling into his chest with a soft coo as the family relocated back inside again. “I’ll get to it after Baby Violet Marie is born, okay?”

Mo stór, my dear, Irish Gaelic

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

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PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

[songofclarity]

What do you think NHS did to Meng Shi’s body?

Removed the body from the coffin, of course. Perhaps he cut her up and threw the pieces to the wind or perhaps he didn't. I personally don't think he cut her up yet--and wouldn't have done so after Guanyin Temple. I think he might have humored the idea and imagined doing it, even planned to do it if Jin Guangyao escaped again because an eye for an eye would have been very cathartic and stooping to Jin Guangyao's level would have been very easy, but I would be surprised if he actually followed through already. Also to cut up a rotten corpse is brutal for brutality's sake and that's not his MO.

Nie HuaiSang, "Wei-xiong, why do you keep on asking me? No matter how much you ask, I don't know anything.” With a pause, he continued, “But…” Slowly, Nie HuaiSang brushed together his storm-drenched hair, “I think that if this person hates Jin GuangYao so much, they'd probably be entirely merciless towards something he cherishes more than his life." [ERS, ch 110]

I know this is often read at face value but two things make me hesitate:

Nie Huaisang wasn't truly merciless towards Jin Guangyao

Jin Guangyao valued his own life above everything else

People try, and they try very hard, to equate Nie Huaisang killing a few cats to Jin Guangyao's torture-murders or the infamous front-page mass murder attempt of the entire cultivation world lol One of these acts was absolutely merciless (Jin Guangyao ordered the kidnapping of children to lure their sects into a death trap) while the other was just creepy and provoking (the juniors were disturbed, but they 100% had the option to follow the trail or not).

Nie Huaisang was persistent but he wasn't merciless. He sent Qin Su a letter revealing the truth about her own life and he sent Jin Guangyao a follow-up letter telling him to turn himself in. The letters weren't blackmail. Nie Huaisang wasn't making any demands to benefit himself. He was seeking justice. "You've been caught. We have the evidence. Now turn yourself in before anyone else gets hurt." Jin Guangyao was given the opportunity to turn himself over in his own way, was given the opportunity to make peace with the situation, and there is, in fact, mercy in that.

Merciless would have been bringing the two key witnesses to Koi Tower when everyone was there to rip Jin Guangyao apart in person. The mass murder attempt didn't quite need to happen because it was the discovery that Jin Guangyao, their Chief Cultivator, was entirely morally bankrupt when it came to what he did by marrying Qin Su and killing Jin Guangshan that upset people. And why did we hear from those witnesses? Because Jin Guangyao was given the opportunity to surrender in his own way and he refused, so Nie Huaisang decided for him.

As for Meng Shi and Jin Guangyao, he gave his mother a false tomb as the goddess for his sake, not hers. She wasn't buried as herself and valued as herself. He hated being known as the son of a prostitute so he just made her not a prostitute by slapping her face on a statue of something else. Except he made her a goddess in a graveyard buried alongside all the innocent women that were mass murdered by Jin Guangyao's orders because they were (surprise) prostitutes. Meng Shi's tragedy is that she dreamed of a better life but she wasn't good enough for the Baby Daddy and she definitely wasn't good enough for her son. Jin Guangyao didn't cherish her. She was just an extension of his ego, his Achilles's Heel, and so he had no choice but to bring her with him.

Wei WuXian, "Like cutting apart his corpse and keeping his limbs at different places, like what happened to ChiFeng-Zun?" Nie HuaiSang jumped, stumbling backwards, "Th-Th-That's… That's a bit too much, isn't it…" Wei WuXian stared at him for a while before finally averting his gaze. Conjectures were conjectures, after all. Nobody had evidence. [ERS, ch 110]

I do think having the desire to rip someone's throat out with your teeth is NOT the same as being capable of ripping someone's throat out with your teeth. The venture of bringing down Jin Guangyao is surprisingly bloodless considering all the blood Jin Guangyao spilled to get where he was.

Part, or even the whole, effectiveness of what happened in Guanyin Temple was simply Jin Guangyao opening the coffin and finding Meng Shi gone. Where is the body? What happened to it? Where is it now??

Jin Guangyao always prided himself in knowing everyone's names and interests, on being on top of everything at work, of having control of everyone in his life, that this moment of loss and confusion was widely effective in unbalancing him. Jin Guangyao had been playing a masterful chess game for years and didn't catch that Nie Huaisang had eaten his queen piece when he wasn't looking lol

If Jin Guangyao had survived and escaped Guanyin Temple, however, I think Meng Shi's body likely would have been cut up as the next step. As he died, however, there was really no point anymore. Nie Huaisang isn't the kind of guy who goes for extra credit points on the test. He just needed a passing grade and he finally got it.

[hb-writes]

The Walk-In Appointment

Summary: From the Little Lady Blinder universe. Clara learns to walk a bit later than her twin, but once she does there’s no stopping her from following her big brother around wherever he goes. Set in May 1909.

Characters: Tommy Shelby, Ada Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Polly Gray, and Clara Shelby

Warnings: Swearing

Hope you enjoy this little piece since the next chapter isn’t coming yet. This was inspired by the lovely @cecii22me​’s ask and I’m so absolutely softened by the idea of Clara learning to walk and chasing around her ‘Ta’ / ‘TaTa’ as that’s what I’ve decided she’d call Tommy before she could get the whole name out properly.

-----

Ada stood her little sister up on her feet, holding her small hands as she encouraged a bit of walking. Clara humored Ada for a few steps, always did so, but lowered herself to the ground as soon as Ada tried to pull her hands away.

Finn took his first steps a few months before his twin sister, toddling around on the first floor and out into the shop if they left the doors open with little care for his own safety. He’d taken the first steps while walking towards his mother’s outstretched arms, the baby’s smiling face as he moved towards her a bright spot in what had come to be some tiring and difficult days for the woman. 

But five months later, Clara still hadn’t shown an interest. Since their mother’s passing, the baby had become more clingy, more likely to request a sibling’s or her aunt’s arms, searching every adult face around her for that of her missing mother. She’d crawl, when necessary, but more often stayed put, playing quietly by herself while Finn made a mess of things around her. 

Polly told her niece and nephews to not worry about Clara’s lack of steps. One toddling Shelby was more than enough to handle and each of them had walked at different times. Clara was the latest of the six Shelby children though, now three months past her first birthday. 

“Let her be, Ada,” Polly chided as Ada tried to force her younger sister up again, the toddler putting up a great protest and pulling against Ada’s hold as she tried to get back to the ground. 

Ada stopped fighting with Clara, instead pulling the girl up to rest on her skinny hip. “Finny walked ages ago, Clara. Don’t you want to walk?”

“Your sister will walk when she’s ready,” Polly answered. “I can’t imagine why you’re surprised she’s just as stubborn as the rest of you.” 

Ada kissed her sister’s cheek and Clara settled against Ada’s chest for a moment, her little version of a hug.

“You’re not stubborn, are you, lovey? You’re just a sweet little thing.” Ada rubbed her sister’s back. “A sweet little lovey who wants to try walking for sissy one last time.”

Ada set Clara on her feet at the moment Tommy walked through the front door, disturbing the peace of the front room as he let it slam behind him. 

Tommy passed his aunt and sisters without a word on his way to the shop, ignoring the baby’s incessant repeating of his name, a continuous stream of ‘Ta Ta Ta Ta’ growing louder as he disappeared from her view. 

Ada released her sister’s hands to cover her ears, anticipating the unrelenting shriek that had become commonplace when the baby didn’t get what she wanted, but it didn’t come. Clara continued chanting after Tommy, taking her first steps as she shouted after her brother.

Polly glanced up from the paper at Ada’s excited squeal.

“I told you she’d walk when ready,” she offered, setting the paper aside and standing up.

Clara tumbled at the threshold to the shop, falling back on her bottom. Ada stepped forward to help her sister only to be stopped by Polly’s hand on her wrist.

Clara’s face scrunched up as she tugged on the thick curtains using them to stand up and gripping them until she was safely over the threshold. 

Clara’s shouting for Tommy grew louder as she stepped into the shop, her little voice trying to overcome the volume of the scattered conversations taking place. Despite not clearly seeing Tommy, she took no deviations in her route as she headed towards Arthur’s office, the only place she’d ever come in the shop, always carried there on someone’s hip to visit the oldest Shelby brother. 

Tommy caught sight of her steps only because a lull in the noise of the shop caused him to back out of Arthur’s doorway and look around, his sister’s shout perfectly timed to the sudden silence of the room. 

He’d come home annoyed about some decision made about the horses, about to tell Arthur off, but he felt that anger leave him as he registered what was happening, the baby toddling towards him, her fair curls bouncing with each determined step. There was something new in her little gap-toothed smile, something in her serious uttering of the name she’d bestowed upon him months ago, the sound interspersed with her self-satisfied giggles, and it all made Tommy forget what he’d come in for in the first place because it was the most animated he’d seen the baby in months, the closest to happy he’d felt in months.

Arthur, Ada, and Polly were all watching by now, too, an almost foreign feeling which felt decidedly close to bliss swelling in them as Clara reached Tommy’s side. The baby gripped the fabric of her brother’s trousers in her small hands, tugging as she looked up to him.

“Up, Ta, up!”

Tommy leaned down to pull the girl into his arms, kissing her head. “Hello there, Clara girl.” 

“Of course her first steps would be following after you,” Ada said, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against one of the tables.

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Ada,” Arthur said, rubbing his finger along the baby’s cheek. “I had your first steps. It’s only fair Tommy gets Clara’s.” 

Clara put her palm to Tommy’s cheek, turning him towards her when his eyes moved to follow the conversation of their siblings.

“No, TaTa, no,” she said, her little voice sharp. “No. No. No.”

She grasped Tommy’s hand and swatted it. “No, Ta!”

Ada snorted, giggles escaping her lips as she watched the baby, her brow still furrowed despite appearing to be finished with her chastising.

“You’re in fucking trouble now, Tommy,” Arthur said, chuckling.

The handful of times the twins had picked up something they weren’t supposed to, done some little bit wrong, or put themselves in some unsafe predicament, they’d gotten a little warning tap on the hand. 

“What’s that for, my girl?” Tommy asked, trying to keep a straight face. 

“You’ve been bad, Thomas, ignored her when you came through just now,” Polly answered. “And Arthur, find better words, please. I don’t want the baby repeating that one.” 

Tommy shifted the toddler in his arms. “Is that it, my girl? Ta didn’t say hello so you decided to walk in here to let me have it?” He kissed her head. “I’m very sorry, sweet girl. I should’ve said hello.”

Clara was already cuddling into his chest, giving a hug, her little hands gripping his shirt and Tommy waited, resting his chin on her head and letting her cuddle a bit before placing her on the floor beside him. 

“Alright, you go off to Ada now or she’ll pout the rest of the evening,” Tommy encouraged, wishing he hadn’t yet started the conversation with Arthur. He’d much rather pass the hour before supper with Clara, but he had little choice in it now. 

“C’mon. Show us those big girl steps and I’ll see you for supper.” 

Clara took two steps towards her sister’s outstretched hands, turning back when Tommy stepped into Arthur’s office. 

“Ta!” she said, holding a hand out to him. 

Tommy took a deep breath, unable to hide his smile as he looked down at her.

“TATA!” she yelled, walking back to him. 

“Give me a minute, Arthur,” Tommy said, taking one of Clara’s hands, stooping a bit to one side as she led him from the shop and back to the sitting room with Ada and Polly. Tommy settled her on the floor and played with his sisters for a few moments before standing up. 

“I’ll be back,” he promised. “You stay with Ada.” 

Tommy was grateful for Ada’s distraction, grateful that they didn’t have to suffer a tantrum because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to not give in to her on it.

Tommy and Arthur were just settling in to talk when there was a banging at the office door, a firm repetition of knocks.

“Christ, can’t even have a fucking conversation in this place. Get that, Tommy, won’t you?”

Tommy stood up and pulled his brother’s door open, glancing down at the threshold to see their visitor.

“We have a walk-in appointment, Arthur.”

“A what?” Arthur asked, unable to see a thing beyond his desk. 

“A walk-in. Our Clara’s here demanding an audience.” Tommy lifted the girl into his arms.

“Well, best let her in, then,” Arthur answered. “No hope in her staying where’s she’s told now. We really are fucked.” 

“Fuck!” Clara said, the same self-satisfied grin on her face as when she’d walked towards Tommy, her giggles filling the room as Tommy and Arthur both started laughing. 

“I won’t tell Aunt Polly if you don’t,” Arthur said. 

“I don’t think it’s me you have to bargain with to keep the secret, Arthur,” Tommy answered as he settled the giggling girl on his lap.

“Fuck,” Arthur said again, covering his mouth as the three siblings dissolved into laughter once again, Tommy and Arthur finding themselves entirely incapable of returning to their previous discussion with the little girl shouting out her new favorite word every time their laughter subsided.

———

Little Lady Blinder Masterlist.

------

🏷: @midnight-dreams-23 @cecii22me @pollyrepents @mo-onstarrs

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 14: The Ball

A Loki fanfiction!

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Song 1, Song 2

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

It was a day before the ball and you sat in the Great Hall with Pom, Mo, and Valkyrie eating breakfast. A smattering of eggs, bacon, stuffed sausage, hash browns, and toast laid in front of you. You took a small piece of toast and buttered it lightly. Another yawn escaped your lips and blinked several times, trying to shake the feeling of tiny rocks rubbing on your eyeballs.

“How was Hogsmeade?” Mo said dejectedly. His parents had sent him quite the howler after the events in the Forbidden Forest. They banned him from all outdoor excursions and he had to stay in the school for the rest of the year.

Valkyrie shrugged. “It was alright, we just tried on some dresses, and I may or may not have seen Nila naked,” she said, smiling at you and Pom.

Mo raised his head with wide eyes. “You did not.”

Just then, Nila came by and sat down beside Mo. “Hey!” she said, leaning over Mo and grabbing a piece of bacon. Mo was stock still and flushed.

You giggled with Valkyrie. “Morning, Nila.”

Valkyrie raised a brow. “So, do we all have dates?”

You blushed, thinking about Nathan Gill, but more so thinking about Professor Laufeyson’s instructions.

You will go to the ball with this boy,

You will dance with him, have a drink, and do what young girls do at balls.

You gulped, thinking about the last thing he said.

And at the end of the night, you will come to my room, and I will punish you for all of it.

“Y-yes,” you said. Then Pom meekly said “yes” with a small blush. You looked at her, surprised that she had mentioned nothing. Then the three of you looked at Mo and Nila, who looked away from each other uncomfortably.

Nila spoke, a little miffed, “I was asked by Thomas, Jury, Mirwich, and Ali.”

You raised your brows, “wow, that’s great, Nila!”

Mo’s expression darkened, and he turned away further as Nila continued talking. “But I said no.”

She slowly turned towards Mo and looked at him. He looked back, trying to conceal a smile. “And what were you waiting for?” he said.

Valkyrie looked at you and rolled her eyes. You could tell she was itching to interrupt them with some blunt statement like, “just fuck already!”, but you hit her thigh under the table to shut her up.

“I was waiting for this stupid boy to ask me, but he hasn’t seemed to get a clue yet,” Nila said, curling a lock of hair on her finger.

There were a few seconds of anticipation. You saw the realization on Pom’s face, and she brightened immediately. Valkyrie’s leg twitched; she was getting so impatient.

Mo got up and knelt in front of Nila and took her hand. “Nila Odesa, will you go to the ball with me?”

Nila reddened, but nodded profusely.

“You didn’t need to embarrass her,” you said, laughing.

Then, Mo and Nila bid you three adieu and left for a walk in the courtyard. You laughed alongside Valkyrie and Pom at the awkwardness of it all, but you were happy for them. Then, a thought dawned on you, and you turned to Valkyrie.

“Valkyrie, do you have a date?” you said.

Her mouth twitched as if she wanted to say something specific, but she threw you a smirk. “On what planet would I not have one, my sweet Hufflepuff?”

Before you could ask further questions, she changed the subject. “So. Blood on the walls. Was it a prank or not?”

Your heart sank, and all levity fled. The teachers had cleared out the hall upon their arrival. They later confirmed it was all rat blood, and most of the students thought it was a pre-Halloween ball prank. Though you recalled the tension on Headmistress Frigga’s face when she made the announcement. She was holding back.

“What if it’s real?” Pom said. “There is a beast out there. What if it’s not done? What if...that thing...comes after Ken again?” She twisted her napkin in her hands.

You took her hand as a flash of evil yellow eyes surfaced in your mind, and you concealed a shudder. “He’s safe here. As long as we stay in the school, it’ll be okay.” Even though the words came out confidently, you did not feel them. Were you truly safe at school? If it was real, then who had written the message?

“What did they mean by, ‘enemies of the heir, beware’?” Valkyrie said. “Who’s the heir?”

“And of what?” Pom said.

The three of you were quite puzzled about it and your conversation eventually went in circles. You thought about asking Leah, from the switcher book, if she might have some answers. A part of you thought perhaps you should bring this up to your friends; the fact that you had conversations with a book that spoke to you, which was still weird even to Hogwarts standards. But when you opened your mouth, you found yourself stuffing more potatoes into it and forgot what you wanted to say.

The windows closest to the ceiling opened up and owls flew in with morning mail. They dropped letters, packages, and newspapers to the students. Pom caught a letter in a pink envelope while Valkyrie caught Mo’s paper. You were not expecting anything but glanced up to see a large package hurtling towards you, which you caught just before it pegged you in the face.

The package was in a black box with a silver bow tied around it. You touched the bow and rubbed the softness; it was velvet.

“What’s that?” Pom said.

“I don’t know,” you said as you undid the bow. The box opened up to reveal a swath of cool fabric. It was black chiffon with lace patterns all over it. You lifted the fabric out of the box to reveal a beautiful black dress. You gasped at the heft, not too heavy, but it definitely carried some weight. The side of it glittered at the hip while the neck was where the black fabric stooped down to reveal a daring neckline that was covered by translucent chiffon.

“Woah,” Valkyrie and Pom said. “Who sent you that!”

You looked in the box and saw an envelope with a single card with the message: Happy Halloween.

There was a black velvet box underneath the envelope that you did not notice before. You let Valkyrie and Pom occupy themselves with the dress while you popped it open. There was a dark glint as the open box revealed a studded necklace of bright green emeralds. You already had guessed who this was from, but the emeralds were his way of signing it off. A quiet laugh escaped you from how heavy-handed it was, but you felt moved by the thought of his gift. It all seemed far too expensive to take, though he would not listen to a single word you said to oppose it. He would certainly be upset if you did not wear this when he saw you at the ball. You sighed and gave in. Professor Laufeyson was the sort of man that did not even need to be present to sway your choices. You knew that he knew you were utterly wrapped around his fingers.

Valkyrie and Pom sent a tirade of questions your way, but you chalked it up to a secret admirer and that you did not know. You stuffed everything back in the box and popped a bite of sausage into your mouth as you headed out of the Great Hall in a mad shuffle. “See you at the ball tomorrow!” You told them.

The rest of the day passed in a blur as you attended your classes. There was no potions class today, and you just wanted it to end so you could see him. You were slightly alarmed at how your concern for his life had now grown into a mild obsession with the man. A part of you lied to yourself and said that you were still only trying to prevent him from dying, like in your visions. But you knew it was far more than that now. Even if Heimdall came and told you he saw a prophecy that Professor Laufeyson would never die, you could not bear to be away from him. He had taken over your mind in ways that even your visions never could.

You glanced out the window from your common room at the darkness and looked around, blinking. The day really had passed in a blur since you could barely remember your classes. Fatigue hit you like a train as you changed into your nightgown. You fell into bed like a stone and, though you feared sleep these days from knowing what toothy nightmares awaited you, it was also what you desperately needed.

***

It was the night of the ball and you stood in your room and looked at the girl in the mirror. She was definitely not anybody you recognized. There was something cooler, more confident about her. She was in a gorgeous black dress that fit her every single curve. The emerald necklace laid around her neck immaculately, and provided the perfect statement piece to the outfit. You glanced at the plunging neckline and bit your lip. Your breasts were not very large, but this dress accentuated the swell of them. Upon doing a little turn in front of the mirror, you appreciated the curve of your rear with a bashful smile.

You shook your head at the mirror, not believing it, but also thrilled. Tucking a stray baby hair behind your ear, you left your room to head over to the ball. The walk through the halls was busy, with beautifully dressed students heading over to the Great Hall. The boys looked older and more handsome with their suits and dress robes. Some wore a sprig of flowers on their lapel while some fashioned a moving brooch that crawled along their pocket. The flurry of dresses of all colours and shapes and sizes excited your senses.

“Freya?” a voice said from behind you.

You turned around and saw Nathan in black dress robes. His eyes widened when he looked at you. “Wow, you look beautiful - I mean, you’re always pretty - but this - like - wow.”

A laugh bubbled up from your lips as he stumbled for the words. He laughed with you and then held out his arm for you to take. You slid your arm around his and the both of you walked into the Great Hall together.

Though you had spent the last seven years marvelling at the grandiosity of the Great Hall, it still took your breath away. Candles were lit amidst jack-o’-lanterns which floated in the ceiling. There was an ethereal aura of a glittering golden glow that swirled through the air. It moved as you walked through it. The tables were lined with crisp white linens and the centre stage was ready for dancing. There was a band at the far end of the hall that played gentle cocktail music. You spotted a rather grumpy looking group of large toads beside the band and wondered curiously which part of the concert they would make an appearance.

It was a little embarrassing once you realized that everyone you passed was staring at you. You looked into the eyes of people who saw you every day, but this time, they looked at you differently. The staring was perhaps supposed to be flattering, but the long gazes and gawks made you slightly uncomfortable and so you stared at the floor.

You spotted Nila, who wore the peach coloured dress she had bought from Gladrags. She looked beautiful. Her heels were nearly four inches high, and she towered over you. You smiled brightly and gave her a delicate hug. She stared at you, eyes wide. “You look gorgeous, Freya!”

Mo came by with swirling blue drinks and raised his brows when he saw you with Nathan. You told him to “shut it” under your breath and he winked at you.

“There’s Pom!” Nila said, and all of you drifted through the room, chatting along the way.

Pom was with a tall boy that you did not recognize. He had sandy skin and looked to be slightly younger than her. Brown curls fell around his temple and he smiled with deep dimples. She was looking beautiful in her short purple dress and ankle boots. Pom looked at you and audibly gasped. She showered you with compliments until you were sure that you would pass out from the embarrassment, but you smiled and nodded. After several minutes of catching up, you excused yourself and went for a drink.

The cool blue liquid slid down your throat and you exhaled after a few more gulps. You looked around from the drinks table at everyone. Couples surrounded the dancefloor, itching to dance. More students trickled in from the entrances and you saw Headmistress Frigga approach the stage. Her dress was a beautiful grey that almost looked silver. Flowers were pleated into the long braid down her back. You continued to look around the room, searching; where was he?

When you arrived back to the group, the Headmistress began her announcement.

“Welcome, teachers and students, to the annual Halloween Ball! Tonight will be a night of merriment and festivity. It shall be one to remember! Now, to send us off, let us begin with the customary dance.”

She stepped towards the stage, and Heimdall walked towards her. He was in more traditional dress robes but looked more like a king as he took her hand and led her into the centre stage. The band played a waltz and the two of them moved like swans in the water. Professor Fandral brought in Professor Sif and they danced. One by one, the teachers all started to dance. You saw a flash of red and gasped when you saw Valkyrie being twirled in the arms of Professor Odinson. He wore a black tuxedo and looked as handsome as a movie star. But it was Valkyrie that held your eye; she was show-stopping. Her red dress billowed as she danced and the slit opened just enough for your heart to race, but closed back up just as you got excited. You raised an eyebrow at her when she caught your eye and she laughed.

You looked at each of the teachers, and still could not see Professor Laufeyson. Just as your heart sank at the notion of him missing the ball, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned to see Professor Laufeyson holding out his hand. Your breath hitched in your throat when you looked at him. His hair was gelled back, and he held one hand out to you, with the other bent politely behind him. He wore a black suit with a silken green vest and tie that stood in contrast with his fair skin. He seemed to glow in the warm light of the Great Hall. His eyes twinkled and his cheeks were positively rosy. Your heart dashed into a mad rhythm as you took in his presence. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?” He said.

Pom, Mo, Nila and Nathan stood stock still, shocked. You took his hand without thinking twice or even looking back at your friends and Nathan.

“Good evening, Miss Eves,” he said, whisking you away and onto the dancefloor. He looked at you with a hungry gaze. “You look ravishing.”

You gulped as you placed one hand on his shoulder and one in his hand. His free hand was placed on the small of your back. When you glanced up at him, it was hard to remember your footing. “You clean up well yourself, master,” you said, lowering your voice for the last part.

He smiled at you and twirled you around as the music rose in pace. “My apologies for stealing you away from your date before the night has even begun,” he said without remorse.

You laughed. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time to get into trouble,” you said with a grin.

He raised a brow at you and pulled you closer. His arms were firm, and his body led you through the unfamiliar footwork with ease. You fell into step with him and your bodies felt as one, moving fluidly across the dance floor. He whipped you about and held you close all alongside with the music. Every time you turned back into him and your body slammed against his, you felt your desire increase exponentially. Now and then Professor Laufeyson would glance at your visible cleavage and you suppressed a smile. In a room filled with people who stared, he could look unblinkingly at you and you would not flinch. When his eyes were upon you, it felt as though you were flying.

During a slower part of the dance, you looked past him and noticed everyone looking at you again. No, not just you, but the two of you. Your face flushed, and you hesitated for a brief second as your thoughts grounded themselves again.

“Careful, any sudden moves and I’ll rip you to shreds,” Professor Laufeyson said under his breath. “At least, that’s what they all think.”

“Everyone is watching,” you said apprehensively.

He spun you around and dipped you back. A devilish smile stretched across his face. “Miss Eves, are you ashamed to be seen with the most evil man in Hogwarts?”

You shook your head as you brought you back up. “No, and you are not evil.”

The music swelled, and he spun you several times; you were thrilled and dizzy all at once. He ran a hand across your back, leaned in close, nearly inappropriate. “Oh my dear girl, you have no idea what I am.” His voice sounded almost sad, but when you tried to look into his eyes, he deflected your gaze by turning to the stage and clapping for the band.

Nathan approached the both of you hesitantly. “May I steal her back, Professor?”

You did not want to leave him, but any more sensual dances and you would become a puddly mess. Professor Laufeyson nodded and handed you over to Nathan, a gleam in his eyes that told you, ‘see you later’, as a sort of warning.

The next dance was more upbeat and now most of the students joined in and some teachers stepped away. You laughed when you observed the head of your house, Professor Bjorn, dancing rather erratically with himself. Then you noticed he was holding a ferret in his hand and doing a waltz. Valkyrie came over to you and gave you a tight hug. You held her close and both of you shouted each other’s ear over the music at the same time.

“Did I just see you dancing with Professor Odinson?”

“Did you just dance with Laufeyson?”

You both smiled widely at each other and broke into laughter. Arms still entangled, you jostled her gently. “What is going on between you two?” You said, glancing at her and then at Professor Odinson, who was now in conversation with Headmistress Frigga over by the tables.

Valkyrie looked down and then back up at you. “I have a lot to tell you,” she said. But then her eyes grew suspicious. “And what have you got to tell me? Shaggin’ the bad boy now?” She clicked her tongue and looked you up and down, impressed. “My sweet Hufflepuff, always surprising me.”

You hit her shoulder. “Stop it! I am not shagging him…” Not yet, at least...

“Can I cut in?” Nathan said, dancing over to you. You disentangled from Valkyrie who gave you a ‘this isn’t over’ look. You danced together in a big group with Pom, her date Vlad, Nila and Mo, and Valkyrie. Some other members of the Quidditch team came over and joined as well.

The music sped up into a fast-paced rock number as all of you jumped in the newly formed dance circle to show off your best moves. You laughed when Mo started raising the roof and waving his arms in the air and at one point you, Pom, Nila, and Valkyrie made a conga line while the boys watched you sway your hips. The song shifted into another tune seamlessly, and when you heard the croaking of the toads and you undeniably lost your shit.

“This is my JAM!” you said, grabbing Nathan by the hand and dancing away. He perked up at your moves and you spent the next hour sweating, swaying, jumping and having the time of your life.

After another half an hour, you were panting as you yelled, “I need a break!” And left them all on the stage. Your feet got sore but in a good ‘dancing pains’ kind of way. You went to refresh yourself and catch some air. Upon sneaking out the door, you did not realize that Nathan followed you until he gently grabbed your arm as you descended the stairs towards the garden. You jumped and nearly tripped on the stairs when he caught you and held you close.

“Careful,” he said, flashing you a gorgeous smile. You were frozen in place with a small flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

He leaned in and you thought about pushing him away, but your arms stayed still as he kissed you. It was not intrusive; it was more of a questioning sort of kiss. This kiss would have been perfect a month ago, when your life was normal and you weren’t falling for a mysterious man who may or may not be doomed.

He pulled away but continued to hold you. “You’re beautiful, Freya,” he said.

The slight flutter of butterflies now sank into stones from your guilt. You should not have led him on. “Nathan,” you said, taking a deep breath and stepping away from him. “You are so sweet, and handsome, and honestly, a lot of fun…”

“But you want to stay just friends?” he said, with a knowing look.

You looked up at him and nodded. “I’m sorry,” you said.

He seemed slightly crestfallen, but the smile never left his face. “It’s okay, and you’re pretty fun too.”

“Thank you for being such a great date,” you said.

He laughed and nodded, leaving you to go back inside. You appreciated what a gentleman he was about the whole thing. Many of your friends had rejected boys only to receive scorn, disdain, and sometimes downright violence. It warmed you to know that Nathan was one of the good ones and you hoped he would find someone extra special.

The night air was cool, and a gentle wind fanned against your skin. You closed your eyes as you wandered into the gardens. You looked at your watch and realized that it was nearly midnight. The balloons would explode at the stroke of midnight and the tiny pumpkins would be there to surprise everyone. You thought about returning, but the thought of tiny pumpkins nipping at your ankles was just not as appealing as spending your time in the night air surrounded by flowers and beautiful trees. You had gotten your fill of the Halloween prank last year, when the stone gargoyles had sprung to life and puked all over you and Valkyrie. Mo had laughed up a storm until a gargoyle flew across the Great Hall and vomited right on his head.

“Did the Headmistress not advise you to avoid wandering about alone?”

Your heart leapt at his voice. “I’m not alone,” you said, not looking back yet, and continued walking down the trail of gardens. A long row of willows stood gorgeously with their sweeping leaves blowing in the breeze.

He fell into step with you, a hand on your lower back. His touch made your chest tighten. Where else might his hands go?

“Thank you, by the way,” you said.

He glanced at you, not clear on your meaning.

“For the dress and necklace. I only wore them since I knew you would curse me if I didn’t,” you said with a teasing smile.

He chuckled. “That’s right, I would have.”

For several minutes, the both of you silently walked through the gardens; smelling the flowers without speaking. It was peaceful and not terribly awkward. There was a comfort that had set in when you were around him. However, after a certain amount of silence, you wondered why the man who loved to talk so much was particularly taciturn.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you said boldly. Perhaps it was the overexertion from dancing or the dress that gave you the delusional idea you could coax the truth out of this man, but regardless, you tried.

He shifted closer to you. “Perhaps I’m plotting to kidnap you as a part of my master plan, and lock you in a tower,” he said mischievously. You laughed loudly at his response.

“Do you always laugh when the villain reveals their grand plans?” he said, smiling. Though his smile did not reach his eyes.

You pushed him as you walked. “You’re not a villain,” you said.

“And how do you know that?” he said, stopping underneath a tall tree. You had wandered back towards the castle. The warm glow of the candles and pumpkins inside illuminated the windows in an orange light, as if the entire castle itself were one gigantic jack-o’-lantern.

There was a rustling, and you stepped away from Professor Laufeyson in case it was a student, or worse, a teacher, and a couple walked by. However, they barely glanced at the two of you, for they were far too busy searching for somewhere to...well...finish off the night. When they walked around the corner in a hushed fit of giggles and quiet moans, you took a step towards Professor Laufeyson again.

“I know you’re not a villain because there is warmth in your heart,” you said, placing a hand on his chest.

The moonlight reflected off his eyes and illuminated his face. You noticed a look of utter desperation in his expression that you had never seen before. It was there for only a second before it vanished with a raised brow. “What you see is a fire, Miss Eves; dangerous if you get too close,” he said and seized you with a grin. You wrapped your arms around him and his lips touched yours in a passionate embrace.

Your core awakened from the feel of his tongue gliding across your lips and the strength of his arms gripping you so tightly that you might break. But you wanted him closer, tighter. You bit his upper lip as he took a hand and palmed your breast through the fabric of your dress. It was as if a new feral hunger hit you. It took all your strength of will to not strip bare right in the garden and let him take you. You tangled your fingers through his hair and moaned as his hand grazed the most sensitive part of your breast.

A scream tore through the air. You broke the kiss and immediately felt the chill of the night. Screams erupted from the Great Hall. You and Professor Laufeyson glanced at each other before seeing several students run out the door in terror. Some were frantically moving about as if they were trying to get something off of their bodies. A boy was thrashing so hard that he ran down the stairs, knocking several people over along the way.

“It’s not supposed to be like that, they’re just pumpkins,” you said to Professor Laufeyson, alarmed at the chaos that ensued from the castle. What was going on?

It was then you saw a girl, completely pale and red-haired in a light blue dress. At first you thought she wore a strange patterned glove, but in fact, there were large black masses covering her arm. They wriggled over her skin and she screamed and shouted, “get them off! Get them off me!”

You both were about to run over to the crowd of students when a shriek closer to you echoed through the garden. “Help me! Please!” It was in the direction where the couple from earlier had gone.

You and Professor Laufeyson ran over to the couple and you saw the boy was crawling away on his hands and knees while the girl was trying to do the same. The boy shoved past you as the girl reached out for help.

A horrifying creature, about the size of a dog, was slithering through the garden. It was scaled and dark green with the body of a snake, but five times thicker. It had five heads protruding from its centre, and each head had a menacing pair of red eyes. Each head snapped its fangs at you and the girl. The creature hissed and lashed its barbed tail. You ran over to the girl and grabbed her by the arm to help her up.

The creature whipped its tail, and you pushed the girl away from it, right into Professor Laufeyson. You cried out when you felt its painful barbs against your leg. The creature hissed, and you saw five forked tongues, inches away from you. You tried reaching for your wand, but the pain had set in immediately and it was debilitating. You fell to your knees.

This was when the screaming and noise all slowed down, as if you were in a film. One moment the five heads reared back to bite you, the next, you saw an insanely bright green light. You heard someone screaming right next to your ear, and it annoyed you to the point you begged them to stop, only to realize that it was you that was screaming.

“What’s happening?” You said your words slurred.

Darkness edged your vision, and you saw Professor Laufeyson’s face above yours, looking terribly distressed. “Stay awake Freya! Stay awake!” It looked as if he was yelling at you, but his words sounded far away.

You felt yourself being carried, or floating away. Perhaps you were in the castle again? It was hard to tell. Your stomach was aching terribly and your whole body was sore. Shooting pain ran up your leg and your chest tightened. How you wished it would end, but as soon as the wave of pain ended, another wave rose. You thrashed back and forth trying to shake the feeling, but it would not stop. “Please, make it stop,” you screamed.

Darkness clouded your vision, and you saw Professor Laufeyson once again. This time he was saying things, but you could no longer hear him. “Loki,” you whispered, and everything went dark.

[rahleeyah]

I totally missed doula Liv! Please, tell us about her!

Thank you 🥰🥰🥰🥰 lmao ok so

Doula Liv

Here we go

After the Lewis trial, Liv walks away from the NYPD. She's got her twenty, got her pension, saw Lewis put away, but she lost pieces of herself in the process, and she is struggling with guilt and the resurgence of her ptsd, and she can't keep going on like this. She needs a change.

She has always, always been a helper. She wants to help people, help women, in a way that doesn't require her to break herself in half. She starts volunteering at the rape crisis center. She meets people, ends up volunteering at the local pp. She meets more people, and her therapist encourages her, and she trains as a doula. She loves the idea of it, not just helping to bring new lives into the world but also supporting their families. It comforts her. Sometimes late at night she wonders if she made the right choice; is this the best place for her? Are these the people who need her help most? Is she just being selfish? But then she thinks about all those babies who are safe bc of her and after tells herself no. The average shelf life of a detective in svu is 3 years. She put in nearly sixteen. She did more good than most, and got out before she lost her life.

One of the nurses at the hospital tells her about the little baby the police brought in, the one no one seems to want. While they're waiting to decide what to do with him Liv sits in a rocking chair on the ward, and holds him. There's something special about him, she thinks. Maybe it's because nobody wanted him, just like nobody wanted her. She keeps an eye out for him. It's been a long time since she set foot in a courthouse but Judge Linden remembers her. And one day, exasperated by how this child has been treated, asks Liv to take him home. So she does. She still gets Noah.

But it's different. She doesn't have to work; her mother left her a sizeable inheritance (Rich Girl Liv) and she invested wisely and she's got her pension, but she needs something to do. She takes as many clients as she wants, and still volunteers at the rape crisis center. But she gets more time with Noah, and she loves it.

She's not in business alone; she has a partner. Idk let's call her Mary, just to give her a name. Babies are unpredictable and occasionally - not often, they do their best to avoid it - they have to pinch hit for each other during a labor. And one day it happens. Noah's in school and one of Mary's clients has gone into labor but she's assisting with a home birth that just won't end and please, can Liv go?

She says of course, takes down the client's name and information and rushes to the hospital. The nurses know her and Mary told them she was coming, she heads back to the delivery room. Just as she approaches the door, a woman walks out.

It's Kathy fucking Stabler.

They both rock back on their heels for a second, completely shocked. The client's name is Maureen Dawson and a half hysterical laugh bubbles up in the back of her throat; it's Maureen. Elliot's Maureen. She's been called in to deliver Elliot's grandchild. She doesn't know if she wants to scream or cry.

"Olivia?" Kathy breathes her name. "Did Elliot call you?"

And that's a shock, bc Liv hasn't spoken to the man in ten years. Why would his wife think he called her?

"no," she says. "Mary did."

And she explains, and Kathy laughs, a little wild around the eyes, and hugs her suddenly, quickly, fiercely. And then they step into the room together.

Maureen is in the bed, the man who must be her husband holding her hand tightly. He barely notices Liv's entrance, but Maureen does.

"Olivia?" She asks, confused.

"hey, Mo," Liv answers, trying not to cry. She explains again.

"I didn't know," she tells Kathy, a little desperately. "I swear I didn't-"

Kathy shakes her head. "I'm glad it's you," she says.

And they get to work. It's shaping up to be a long labor, and they settle in for the long haul. Kathy tells Maureen's husband that it's only fitting Olivia is here to deliver her first grandbaby, after what she did for Kathy and Eli. There's no one I'd trust more, Kathy says, and Liv tries not to cry. It's just so surreal; these people belong to her old life, a life she thought she'd left behind, and now she's here. There's no wedding ring on Kathy's finger but Liv won't ask, can't ask, not now.

Eventually Elliot comes barreling into the room, wild eyed. He stops short when he sees her, but they're getting down to the wire. Everyone's focus is on Maureen. Elliot goes to her, kisses her forehead, tells her how much he loves her. But then she's pushing, and he backs away, lets Kathy hold one of her hands while her husband holds the other. Liv coaches her through it, gently, and he's mesmerized by her, how her hair is longer, softer than he remembers, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes when she smiles, the deftness of her hands. Between Liv and Maureen and the doctor they get the job done, and Liv's hands are the first to hold his grandson, cradling him gently before carrying him to Maureen, settling him on her chest. Everyone is crying, now.

Mary turns up and takes over, and the family is gathered around, staring at the baby, and Liv slips away. It's not her place to linger, she thinks. They don't need her.

Kathy notices Elliot noticing her departure, though.

"go get her," she says.

And so he does.

He catches up with her in the hallway, asks her if she wants a coffee. The sun has gone down and Noah is at home with a sitter but she can't say no. She doesn't want to.

They get coffees from the cafeteria but there are too many eyes and the walls are suffocating so they take them outside. Find a spot on the steps out of the way, and watch the city moving around then, both of them thinking about all the nights they spent sitting on a stoop somewhere, just being together.

Elliot tells her haltingly what became of him. Why he had to leave. That he and Kathy are divorced. That he's missed her, every day. And Liv hears him, and she wants to be angry, she does, but he's here beside her and she's just held his grandson in her arms, and the anger feels very far away. Sitting there on those steps with their shitty hospital coffee, both their lives start over again, moving in the same direction this time.

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

Carry Me Home (A Din Djarin/Reader Fic)

Summary: Din and Reader find themselves on a jungle planet hunting a bounty, but nothing goes as planned, and secrets are shared.

***Based off this line from a previous fic in this series: "Then the mysterious bounty hunter told you his name one day when you were trying to hold his femoral artery together with nothing but bacta gel and hope."

No spoilers. Set in Season 1 between Episode 6 (The Prisoner) & Episode 7 (The Reckoning)

Pairings: Din Djarin/Reader; Din Djarin/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, gore, & violence. Brief mentions of past slavery. 

A/N: In true Star Wars fashion, I'm just writing shit out of order lol. But the idea for this fic kept bugging me, so i just had to get it out on the page. 

You don't need to read the previous fics to understand this one, though (since the others are set in s2.) I have some more ideas for out of order stories, too, so I'll most likely be continuing this series.But let me know if you'd be interested in a fic from Din's POV! I think that could be fun, but if y'all are digging Reader POV, I'll stick to that.

And in case anyone cares, the title is taken from the lyrics of Arcade by Duncan Lawrence, which I was listening to on repeat as I wrote this. 

As always, I’ve posted this piece on Ao3, but I’ll paste the text below. 

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28763814

I’ll also include the links to the other two fics here: 

The Sea Like Glass Ch 1: Here

The Sea Like Glass Ch 2 (includes smut): Here

“Dank farrik!” you hissed as the wire in front of you sparked and sent a jolt of electricity through your already singed fingers. Not for the first time, you wished you could wear your gloves, but some of the pieces that needed repairing were too small to feel through the bulky material, so you could do nothing more than sacrifice your flesh for the cause.

Didn’t make it hurt less, though. You sucked the smarting tips into your mouth, glaring at the trashed circuit board in front of you, but the ruined hardware only crackled in response.

If you were back in Hanger 3-5 in Mos Eisley, you would have probably trashed the whole part and dug through Peli’s stock for a replacement, or gone down to the market and haggled for something newer, but you weren’t on Tatooine. You were smack dab in the middle of a jungle planetoid you couldn’t remember the name of, and it was up to you to get the Razor Crest running again on what you had available.

Which, admittedly, wasn’t a lot.

You sighed as you sat back on your haunches, using the back of your wrist to swipe at the sweat trailing down your temple. The pre-Empire ship towered over you as you dug into her innards, having pried off one of the semi-melted lower side panels to access the appropriate circuits. Your thin tank top was already drenched, and the hair sticking to the back of your neck kept giving you phantom itches. You wanted nothing more than to tie it up completely, but you always felt naked when your nape was exposed. You weren’t necessarily ashamed of the scar there, or the past connected to it, since it wasn’t your fault you were born into shackles, but… still. It was a… personal story to tell, and you weren’t sure you were ready to share it with your new boss.

Well, “new” was relative. You’d been employed on the Razor Crest for several months now, but you didn’t know much more about the Mandalorian than you did when you’d first set foot onto his ship. You knew he was a bounty hunter, from a race of legendary warriors. You knew he had a partially sordid, and dangerous, past if your encounter with Ran and his crew of mercenaries was any indication. You knew the green baby was his ward, or foundling as he called it, and Mando was tasked with returning the little guy to his people. And you knew his Creed forbid him from removing his helmet.

That was about it. The Mandalorian didn’t talk much, but it didn’t particularly bother you. You’d always been a quieter person, and after years of Peli’s constant chattering, you were kind of relieved for the silence.

Most of the time, anyway.

“How’s it looking?”

You gasped in alarm, jolting yourself off balance and falling back onto your ass in the dirt.

“Maker, Mando,” you panted as you craned your neck back to stare up at the bounty hunter. “What have I told you about sneaking up on me when I’m working on electrics?”

The impervious mask of the Mandalorian stared down at you silently, blotting out the sweltering sun and providing you a modicum of relief. A moment passed, then two, and you shifted uneasily under his unblinking gaze.

“I thought you heard me approach,” he said finally, his modulated voice flat and unaffected, but he didn’t move from where he was looming over you.

“Well, I didn’t,” you grumbled as you flopped your head forward and popped your neck, stretching your legs out in the dirt.

The tight leggings you wore ended not too far past your knees, so your shins were streaked with the red soil of this planetoid. The dirt didn’t bother you, but the heat sure did. It was different than Tatooine’s dry desert. This heat was oppressive, stifling, almost cloying, and every time you took a deep breath, a small part of your brain panicked, images of drowning flashing through your mind even though you knew it was irrational. You were just grateful your clothes didn’t look a fraction as hot as the Mandalorian’s all black get-up and what had to be twenty-five kilos of armor.

“So,” the bounty hunter said after a few more moments of silence, interrupted only by the call of exotic birds in the canopy, “how are things looking?”

“Honestly?” you sighed as you pushed yourself off the ground, dusting the red dirt off your hands but not even bothering with your pants. “Not good. The bounty’s guns must have grazed us when we were still outside orbit, and entering the atmosphere certainly didn’t help matters. Some of the side paneling has been melted beyond repair, and a lot of the wiring is fried, too.”

“Can you get it flying?” Mando asked, crossing his arms over his chest and making his silhouette all the more imposing. The sun glinted off his silver beskar, and you squinted in the glare.

“Maybe.” You pursed your lips and averted your gaze, turning back to stare at the charred panels and sparking wires. Sweat trickled down your neck, and you reached back to cup your nape, feeling the bounty hunter’s eyes on you.

“Didn’t know I was paying you for maybes.”

“You’re not paying me at all if you can’t even catch that quarry,” you snorted before your brain could catch up to your mouth.

You froze when the words finally registered, nails digging into the back of your neck. Stupid. Your mouth always did get the better of you. You used to mouth-off to your former owner until he backhanded you into silence, and now you’re starting shit with a bounty hunter you’d seen kill half a dozen men in just as many seconds.

Stupid.

You waited for Mando to say something, staring at the Razor Crest without even seeing it, and even if you didn’t really believe he’d hurt you for a simple off-handed comment, your body didn’t get the message. Muscle memory was a hard thing to forget, and every fiber in you braced for the blow.

The birds chittered in the towering blue-green canopy above your head as sweat poured from every single one of your pores, and you were just about to come out of your skin when the Mandalorian finally spoke.

“Well, to catch the quarry, I need my ship to fly,” he said, and when you chanced a glance over your shoulder, you discovered he’d somehow moved further away from you, like he took several steps back.

Was he… giving you space?

His tone was still flat, but after several months spent in close proximity with the bounty hunter, you were now able to parse out several different minor inflections in his modulated voice. You were by no means an expert, but you knew for a fact he didn’t sound angry in this moment. When he was angry, his voice took on a softer, menacing quality. The few times you’d heard it—thankfully never directed at you—every hair on your body stood on end, and the lizard part of your brain had screamed to run and not stop running until you were in a completely different star system.

This wasn’t anger. This was… something else. You almost wanted to say… amusement, but that would have been crazy.

Still, the tension bled out of your shoulders like sand through a sieve, and you dropped your arms as you turned to face the Mandalorian fully again.

“Alright, this is the best I can do,” you said. “I can get her flying again, I think I can even get her shielded enough to withstand leaving the atmosphere when we’re done here, but it’s gonna take some time.”

“How much time?” he asked.

You glanced over your shoulder again at the damage, did some calculations in your head, and added some padding to give yourself a margin for error. Then you turned back to the bounty hunter.

“At least two days,” you replied, confident in your abilities. “Anything less, and we risk blowing ourselves to the Inner Core and back when I go to start her up.”

“Hmm.” Mando stared at you for a moment and then shifted to gaze into the jungle. “The bounty will most likely be off planet by then.”

“I don’t think so,” you contradicted him, and your heart actually skipped a beat when the T of his visor turned to look at you. There was something nerve-wracking about staring into the dark, reflective glass, but then you noticed your red-streaked appearance, and you cringed self-consciously as you looked away.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Because,” you started, stooping down to pick up the tablet beside your tool bag, “when I first came out here and saw the damage, I was afraid we’d end up in this situation. But then I remembered that the quarry’s ship took more damage than we did in our little space battle. I know for a fact we landed at least one solid hit, I saw it myself.”

“And?”

“Well,” you said as you tapped at the screen, “given the make and model of his vessel, and the location of where we struck the ship, I was able to deduce that we most likely damaged his engines. If his engines are damaged, then there is a maximum distance he could have gone before he would have been forced to land, or even crash landed. With all this information, plus the fact that I knew the general location of where we lost visual of him when we entered the atmosphere, I’ve estimated the quarry can’t be farther than five klicks from our current coordinates. And with his entry trajectory, he’s most likely in this triangulated area three and a half klicks to the west, which should be easily reachable on foot.”

You turned the map on the tablet to face the Mandalorian, and he stepped forward to take the device from you. His gloved fingers brushed across your singed ones, remnant electricity shooting through your veins, and you stifled a flinch as you dropped your arm.

Mando studied the map for a long moment, cocking his head and zooming in to get a better look. You shifted uneasily in the silence, scuffing the tip of your boot into the red soil, but then the bounty hunter finally looked back up at you.

“When did you have time to do this?” he asked, and he actually sounded… impressed. “You were out here for less than ten minutes after we landed.”

“It wasn’t that hard.” You shrugged as your cheeks flushed with heat, but you blamed the sweltering sun overhead and the soup-like air.

“I didn’t realize you were so good with numbers,” he said, his helmet staring directly at you.

“Numbers are easy,” you replied, shrugging again as you raised your hand to chew nervously on your nails, but you stopped yourself when you saw the crimson dirt still caked on your skin. “They don’t lie, once you understand the rules.”

“Did Peli teach you how to do this?” he inquired, and you were surprised by all these questions. Most of the time, the bounty hunter asked you one-or-two-word questions and expected one-or-two-word answers. You couldn’t figure out why this situation was any different, but you found yourself responding anyway.

“Partially,” you explained, and you wondered how you could phrase your answer to be vague but satisfactory. “She… taught me a lot of the specifics for bigger jobs like ships and larger machines, but I’ve always been good at numbers and tinkering.”

That seemed good enough. You didn’t think it was relevant that you first started tinkering because your former owner used to lock you in his shop’s basement with broken droids when you misbehaved, and putting the discarded machines back together kept you from going crazy when your punishments lasted days. You also didn’t think it relevant that when your former owner found out and realized he could profit off your skills, you fine-tuned your abilities to become indispensable. The bastard still hit you occasionally, and his other slaves weren’t treated any better, but you had to admit, him locking you in the basement all those years had saved your life. If you hadn’t cultivated the skills you had, Peli wouldn’t have bought you at auction when the bastard bit the sand, and she wouldn’t have dug out your transmitter chip and effectively freed you the moment you walked into Hanger 3-5. The tiny woman had said she needed an apprentice, not a slave, and so that was what you became. Now, you were a mechanic in your own right, and a damn good one if you did say so yourself. Mando just didn’t need to know how you’d gotten there.

The bounty hunter seemed to think the same thing, too, because he nodded once before he looked back at the tablet.

“This is good work,” he said, and something in your chest preened at his words before you squashed it down. “If these calculations are correct—”

“They are,” you interjected before you could stop yourself.

“Then I think I can set out on foot, find the quarry, and bring him back tomorrow just as you’re finishing the repairs,” Mando went on, and he glanced up at you again. “Does that time frame sound right to you?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “Should work for me, but it could take you a little longer. I’m unfamiliar with this terrain, and there are too many other variables, like jungle beasts or indigenous species, for me to be sure.”

“The terrain won’t be a problem,” the Mandalorian said as he handed you the tablet back. “And neither will any beasts or natives.”

You cocked an eyebrow at the bounty hunter but didn’t contradict his confidence. “Alright. Then, yes, I should have the ship up and running by the time you get back. Are you leaving now?”

“Once I grab some supplies,” Mando replied before he paused and seemed to consider you. “Will you be… okay until I return?”

It was a familiar question, albeit still surprising. The Mandalorian was a stoic, usually silent warrior, literally a wall of beskar steel. You’d seen him kill men as easy as breathing, and he threw each bounty into carbonite without an ounce of remorse.

And yet, every time he had to leave the ship alone, he asked you if you would be alright until he got back. The question and concern would have made no sense… if you hadn’t seen the bounty hunter interact with his foundling. He tried to hide it, but he treated the little green baby so gently you knew there had to be a warm, beating heart beneath all that beskar. You just never expected any tenderness to be aimed at you, so it drew you up short every time.

“Yeah.” You smiled. “I’ll be fine. Besides—”

You trailed off as you felt something touch your lower leg, and when you looked down, big brown eyes set in a little green face blinked back up at you. Then little green hands lifted in your direction, and you laughed as you swooped down, picked him up, and set him on your hip.

“Besides,” you continued, still chuckling as you booped the child on the nose and left a smudge of red dirt behind, “I’ll have this little guy to keep me company. Right, kid?”

The baby cooed and reached out, his three tiny fingers settling on the bridge of your nose as he tried to boop you back. When he withdrew his hand, though, his skin was dyed black.

“Huh?” You frowned at the slick ooze on his fingers, your eyes crossing as you tried to bring his hand into focus. “What’s on your hand there, bud?”

“It’s grease,” Mando supplied.

“What?” you asked as you turned your head to the bounty hunter.

“Grease,” he repeated, and he touched the intersection on the glass T of his visor, right over where the bridge of his nose would sit. “You’ve got some just there.”

“Oh.” You blushed, your hand flying up to cover your face. Not only were you covered in dirt and sweat, but grease now, too. Typical. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought you knew,” the Mandalorian said, but there was that faint undercurrent in his voice that you were sure was amusement now. “Don’t you have any rags?”

“I did,” you muttered as you tried to rub at your face with your shoulder, “but I had to throw most of them out after that oil leak we had on the moon we left about a week ago. It’s fine. I’m already a mess anyhow, and I’m just going to get dirtier as I fix up the ship.”

Mando seemed to stare at you intensely for a moment, and you had the feeling he was taking in just how filthy your clothes were. You could read nothing from his body language, though, and since he wasn’t speaking, there was nothing to infer from his voice, either. Embarrassed heat crawled up your neck, and you suddenly felt naked in your tank top and leggings. You shifted the child in your arms a little to bring him more in front of you and block more of you from view, but the effort was useless because Mando was abruptly spinning on heel and marching toward the ship’s ramp.

“I’m going to gather supplies,” he said gruffly over his shoulder. “Don’t let the kid touch any of the wires.”

And then he was gone, his cape flapping behind him as he disappeared into the bowels of the Razor Crest.

“Okay, bye,” you muttered, and you frowned after him before looking down at the kid and lowering your voice. “Your dad’s a little weird, you know that?”

The child blinked up at you and then seemed to nod his head in solemn agreement.

You laughed and kissed the top of his head even though you knew you were toeing a dangerous line here. You knew you were just the ship mechanic, the hired help, but you and the foundling had spent a lot of time together when the Mandalorian was out hunting bounties, and you couldn’t help loving the adorable baby like he was your own. He was mischievous and always looking to put things in his mouth that he shouldn’t, but something about his presence was calming, soothing. Plus, those big brown eyes were to die for. You weren’t even that surprised the kid had managed to wiggle his way under Mando’s beskar. It had only been a few months, but you knew without a shadow of a doubt that if it came down to it, you would give your life to save this child.

Which was wildly inappropriate, but you chose to ignore that fact.

“It’s just gonna be the two of us again for a bit, little man,” you told the foundling, turning back to face the Razor Crest. “But we’re gonna have some fun, yeah? Do you want to help me fix up the ship?”

The child gurgled into your ear and patted your cheek, which you took as an affirmative.

“Alright,” you laughed as you set him on a large root right next to your tool bag. You dug around until you found a tool you would need eventually, and then you handed it to the kid. “Here, hold this until I need it, okay? But don’t put it in your mouth.”

The foundling seemed to pout at that last bit, but he dutifully wrapped his three little fingers around the tool and held it firmly.

“Thank you.” You smiled. Then you turned back to the ship, put your hands on your hips, and furrowed your brow. “Now, where to start?”

You spent the next ten minutes assessing what was completely ruined, what was salvageable, and what you had on hand that wasn’t necessary and could possibly be retrofitted to fix the damage. The skeletal beginnings of a plan were already forming in your mind by the time the Mandalorian was clomping down the ramp again. You set down the tablet you’d been tapping away at and picked up the child once more, and the foundling babbled as he waved around the tool he was still holding.

“Be careful with that,” you chuckled, and you craned your head back to avoid getting smacked in the temple. “I’ll need it soon, so keep holding onto it.”

The child cooed and then shifted to wave the tool at the bounty hunter as he approached.

“Putting the kid to work now?” Mando asked as he stopped a few feet away. The crescent-shaped hilt of his favored Amban rifle jutted out over his left shoulder, and a small bag was slung over his right, probably filled with spare ammo, cuffs for the bounty, and possibly some food. You’d never personally seen the Mandalorian eat, though, and a part of you was convinced he didn’t, even if you rationally knew that wasn’t possible.

“Nah, I’m just teaching him a thing or two,” you said as you settled the foundling more soundly on your hip. “You’re never too young to learn something new, and on the plus side, being my little helper keeps him out of trouble. For the most part, anyway.”

“Thank you for watching him,” the bounty hunter said, tilting his visor down minutely to stare at the child, who grinned a gummy grin and waved the silver tool again. “I know it isn’t exactly what I hired you for—”

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you glanced down to smile at the kid. “He’s pretty good company, and some of Peli’s droids have given me more trouble than he does. It’s really no problem.”

“Well, regardless,” Mando replied as his visor returned to studying you. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You nodded, flushing again under his scrutiny. Then you cleared your throat and gestured at the bag on his back. “All ready?”

“Yes,” the bounty hunter said. “Days are longer here, but the sun will set eventually, and I want to try and find the quarry before moonrise. If all goes well, I should be back tomorrow before sunset.”

“Good luck, then,” you told him, and you lifted your chin with confidence. “I should have the ship ready when you return.”

“Thank you.” He inclined his helmet.

The baby suddenly burst out babbling something, and you glanced down to see him reaching out with his free hand toward the Mandalorian. His three little fingers made grabby motions, and the bounty hunter sighed.

“Listen to her while I’m gone, okay?” Mando murmured as he stepped closer into your personal bubble and held out his finger for the foundling to latch on to.

The child cooed, swinging the Mandalorian’s finger from side to side, and the breath stilled in your lungs as the bounty hunter’s glove brushed the edge of your mouth. You smelled something like leather and smoke, probably blaster residue, but then Mando was stepping back again, and the baby was forced to drop his finger.

“Keep alert,” he addressed you as he adjusted the pack on his shoulder. “We’re pretty far from any civilization out here, so I don’t think you should encounter anyone, but don’t assume you’re safe. And get inside the ship once the sun sets. The jungle will be more dangerous at night. I’ll have my comlink on me, but it’s affected by proximity, so you most likely won’t be able to contact me until I’m on my way back.”

“Don’t worry, Mando,” you said, and you patted the blaster he’d given you that was almost permanently attached to your hip. “I can defend myself if need be, and I have no desire to be caught outside after dark. We’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he replied, but you weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself. Either way, he seemed to compose himself because he nodded once. “I’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll keep a weather eye on the horizon.” You smiled. “Try not to die of heat stroke.”

“I’ll try my best,” he said dryly, but after one more moment of staring at you and the foundling, he turned on heel and marched off into the jungle without another word. The multi-colored trees swallowed him almost instantly, and suddenly you were alone.

The child cooed sadly as he stared after the Mandalorian, and he turned his big brown eyes on you as if to say, Where’d he go?

“Don’t worry, bud,” you said, turning back to the ship. “He’ll be fine and back before you know it. Now, let’s take a look at those power converters, shall we?”

You set the foundling down beside your tool bag again, but you couldn’t help glancing over your shoulder in the direction the bounty hunter had disappeared in.

He’ll be fine and back before you know it, you repeated silently to yourself.

~~~~~

Two days later, you were starting to doubt the validity of your statements.

The sun had set and risen twice, and there was still no sign of Mando. Now, the celestial orb was steadily making its way across the horizon for the third time, and you sat on the ramp of the ship and glared up at the chattering canopy.

The child was down for a nap in the hammock the Mandalorian had set up in his own bunk, and your eyes burned with a similar exhaustion, but the anxiety slowly mounting in you made it impossible to sleep. The past two days had passed uneventfully. You’d spent every hour of sunlight you had at your disposal patching together the ship, and since days were longer on this planetoid, you estimated you’d spent over seventy-two hours getting the Razor Crest in working order again.

And you’d done it. It wasn’t perfect, but the ship could fly, and you were ninety-eight percent certain it would withstand leaving the atmosphere.

Now, all that was missing was the Mandalorian and his bounty.

“Dank farrik, Mando,” you grumbled under your breath as you dragged your singed, cut-up, and bandaged fingers through your hair. “Where the Maker are you?”

The chittering birds and critters in the underbrush didn’t have an answer for you, and you huffed out an aggravated breath as another bead of sweat dripped into your eyes.

By your estimate, there were about six hours left before the sun set again. Part of you, the illogical, irrational part, wanted to charge into the jungle in search of the Mandalorian. You had a general direction and location he should be in. Maybe you could find him.

But the rational side of your brain thankfully pointed out all the problems with that plan. For one, leaving the ship unattended was dangerous. You hadn’t seen anyone in the past two days, but that didn’t mean you were alone in the jungle, and now that the ship could fly again, someone could potentially walk right in and steal the vessel if you weren’t here to stop them.

Then there was the issue of the foundling. Sometimes, Mando took you and the kid along with him when he was hunting a bounty in a more populated area, but he was always there to protect the two of you if something went wrong. What happened if you brought the child with you into the jungle and you couldn’t protect him? And you couldn’t exactly leave him behind. Someone could steal both the child and the Razor Crest in that scenario.

The most compelling reason to stay with the ship, though, was Mando himself. Before he left, he’d confidently declared that neither the jungle itself nor the beasts or peoples therein would pose any problem for him. If he was wrong, and these things had posed a problem for the bounty hunter, what luck did you have of doing something he could not?

Anddddd that’s where the irrational side of you chimed in again with, Well, if he did run into an issue, he could need your help, so you should go look for him.

It was a vicious cycle, and your head was pounding with how fast it was running in circles.

You groaned as you dropped your face into your hands, digging the heels of your palms into your eye sockets.

“Fine,” you sighed into the darkness. “I’ll give him until morning.”

If the Mandalorian hadn’t returned by then, you’d start up the ship and fly over the area you’d triangulated for him. If you couldn’t find him from the air… well, you’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

~~~~~

You huffed in irritation as you tossed and turned in Mando’s bunk that night. You turned one way, rolled another, but then you found yourself with your nose buried in his pillow, and you instantly flipped back over, face hot with embarrassment even though it was dark and you were practically alone. You weren’t sure if he slept with his helmet on when he was alone in the closed confines of the bunk, but either way, the small space smelled of him intensely. You tried not to put words to his scent, told yourself it was inappropriate and he was your boss, a Mandalorian to boot, and you had no room or right to think of him in any way other than strictly professional… but that apparently didn’t work because you knew he smelled like the cheap soap from the fresher, and the rest was a blend of smoke, leather, and metal, the degrees of which varied by the day and yet was still always uniquely him.

You knew you were playing a losing game even just having these thoughts, but you somehow couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t stop yourself. Ever since Mando stepped between you and Ran’s crew all those months ago, blocking you with his body, a startling, protective rage in every inch of his armored silhouette, this little voice had come to life in the back of your head and wouldn’t shut the kriff up.

What if? the little voice whispered. What if it’s not just you having these thoughts? What if you could have him in more than just your dreams and fantasies in the darkness of this bunk?

Usually, you shoved the voice into the deep, dark recesses of your thoughts and recited equations until it grew quiet. You knew that was nothing but wishful thinking at best and delusion at worst. The Mandalorian was just that: a warrior closed off from the world by a shell of silver beskar. He cared for the foundling, yes, but that was entirely different and bore no correlation to the bounty hunter’s relationship with you. There was little he could possibly want from a former slave turned mechanic, aside from your skills, of course, so you clenched your eyes closed and tried to take shallow breaths through your mouth, but nothing you did could get his scent out of your nose, your memory.

You sighed for the umpteenth time and rolled to face the wall of the bunk.

When the bounty hunter was on the ship, the two of you usually slept in shifts so you could share the bunk, though sometimes the Mandalorian slept upright in the cockpit. It had been his idea originally. You’d been fine with a thin sleeping mat on the floor of the cargo bay, but he’d insisted in his strange, stoic, nonchalant way. So, you shared, and when it was just you and the kid on the ship, the two of you had the run of the place.

The child was currently in the hammock above your head, but you were pretty sure he wasn’t asleep, either. Every so often, he’d gurgle or make some other noise, and more than once you peeked up to find big brown eyes staring down at you in the dimness. You wondered if he could sense your anxiety, and you shifted so you could glare past your feet, out of the bunk, and at the closed ramp door.

You wanted to be angry with Mando, but by the time the sun set a few hours ago, you’d moved past that anger and straight into worry. The bounty hunter had never been gone this long before without contact, and your gut told you something was wrong and wouldn’t let you sleep. You wished you could blame your insomnia completely on your concern, but sadly, that wasn’t the case.

As if on cue, a sudden, piercing shriek echoed through the ship, and all the muscles in your body locked up on reflex.

The child gasped and made a worried noise as he poked his head over the edge of his hammock and stared down at you, and you tried to plaster on a fake, reassuring smile.

“It’s alright,” you murmured, reaching up to gently rock the foundling. “The ship’s closed and locked up. They can’t get us in here.”

The baby made an unconvinced sound, but he settled back into his bed without any further argument.

You sighed as you continued to rock the child, and you did your best not to flinch when another high-pitched screech sounded outside the ship.

You weren’t entirely sure what “they” were, but you knew they were nocturnal and carnivorous. And hungry. The past two mornings, you’d found bloody animal remains torn to bits and strewn along the edges of the clearing the Razor Crest was parked in like gory, crimson confetti. You’d kept the child practically glued to your side during the days because of this, but nothing ever attacked you during the day. They just circled the ship incessantly at night, howling and screeching and keeping you from finding a moment’s peace or rest. They hadn’t outright attacked the ship yet, but you were ready for it, your borrowed blaster a cold and heavy weight tucked under your pillow.

Reaching for it now, you curled your fingers around the familiar hilt and tried to block out the crescendoing, bloodthirsty shrieks of the mysterious jungle beasts.

You didn’t know how or when, but you must have dozed off at some point because all of the sudden, you jolted awake with a panicked gasp.

The bunk was dark and close around you, but since you’d left the door open at your feet, it wasn’t claustrophobic. Your vision was still blurry with sleep, so you swiped at your eyes with the back of your left wrist as you scrambled into a seated position. In your right hand you grasped the blaster, and you pointed it blindly in front of you, toward the rear of the ship.

You couldn’t remember what had woken you up, but it had been something. Your heart pounded a frantic tattoo into the underside of your ribcage, your arm shaking minutely with adrenaline. The ramp was still closed in front of you, so it hadn’t been Mando opening the door and returning. You squinted in the darkness but couldn’t see anything beyond shadows and vague shapes in pale, muted moonlight. It must have still been night, then.

You strained your ears, listening for the howling, but it was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. The jungle beasts usually didn’t go silent until right before dawn, but it was dark enough in the ship that you estimated it was still the middle of the night.

Where had they gone?

Your heart rose up into your throat, sweat beading at every one of your pores, and your mouth was so dry that your throat clicked when you swallowed.

The child made a noise of inquiry above you, barely louder than a breath, but it still made you jump all the same. Your gaze darted upward to find brown eyes staring down at you, but they were wide in an alarmed sort of way. One three-fingered hand poked over the edge of the hammock, making grabby motions at you, and the noise he made this time was more urgent, louder.

Had he heard something, too?

“What is it, little guy?” you whispered, reaching up with your free hand and awkwardly grappling him from his sling-bed.

He tumbled gently into your lap with a soft “oof,” but almost immediately he was standing up, turning around, and frantically patting at your cheek.

“What?” you asked with a frown.

He babbled and continued to tap the side of your face, and his noises grew increasingly distressed until he was grunting with frustration.

Then his tiny palm actually slapped down right across your ear canal so hard that both of your ears rang, and you hissed as you jerked your head back.

“Kriff, what was that fo—” you started to ask, but another hiss cut you off, and this one wasn’t from you.

Your heart stuttered, eyes skipping over the child’s head and out into the cargo bay, and your right hand tightened around the blaster you’d lowered to your side.

But there was nothing there. Nothing moved in the shadowy ship beyond you, and you frowned, thinking your mind was playing tricks on your startled and sleep-addled mind, but then the hiss came again.

And this time, you recognized it.

“Oh, pfassk!” you cursed as you craned around and shoved your hand under the pillow. Your fingers scrambled wildly across the sheet but encountered nothing, and you growled in aggravation, shifting the child off your lap and coming onto your hands and knees. You tossed the pillow over your shoulder in a fit of frustration, and your right hand slapped at the wall around your head until the bunk light came on.

You squinted in the flood of harsh light, the child gurgling behind you, but when your vision cleared, you spotted the thumb-sized comlink off the edge of the cot, shoved up into the far corner of the bunk. You lunged forward and wrapped your fingers around the small device, and the words were falling out of your mouth before you were even sure you had hit the button.

“Mando?” you called into the comlink, cringing when your loud voice echoed back to you in the close confines of the bunk. “Mando, can you hear me?”

Mild static crackled back for a moment as you huddled around the tiny communicator, but then a louder burst of static—the hiss from earlier—exploded to life.

And you were sure you heard Mando’s voice in there.

“Mando!” you shouted as you heart did its best imitation of a speeder, and you cupped both hands around the comlink like that would help him hear you better. “Mando, it’s me! I’m here. Can you hear me?”

Another burst of static. Then…

Mando yelled your name, clear as day, followed by a scream of what sounded like “help” and a chorus of familiar howling, and your stomach bottomed out inside of you.

“Mando!” You were gripping the communicator so hard you were afraid you were going to break it. “Mando, where are you? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond. You sat there frozen for a full minute, ears straining to the point of ringing, but only quiet static crackled back at you.

“Dank farrik!” you cursed, punching the side of your fist into the bunk wall.

The child cooed at you, brown eyes big with concern, and he put his tiny hand on your knee as you raked a shaking hand through your hair.

Your chest heaved up and down as you fought for breath, your mind spinning off into a million directions at once.

Mando was in trouble. Mando needed your help. He was fighting jungle beasts, and he was far enough away that you couldn’t hear the shrieking with your own ears, but close enough that he could partially reach you over the comlink. You had to do something. You had to go help him.

But what about the child? What about the ship? You couldn’t take the Razor Crest. It was pitch black outside, and you wouldn’t be able to see Mando below the thick, dark canopy. You had to go on foot.

And you had to take the kid with you.

“Come on,” you said as you tucked the communicator into your pocket, grabbed the foundling and blaster, and scooted to the edge of the bunk. Your boots were on the ground below you, and you shoved your feet in them blindly, tying the laces in three deft movements.

Then you were on your feet, turning on the cargo lights, and jogging the child over to his floating silver carrier. You grabbed the spare remote on top of it, pressing the button and watching the top slide open with a hiss. Then you set the foundling down inside of it, and in the same motion you were tucking the remote into your pocket, turning on heel, and striding for the armory.

Another button press, followed by the hiss of hydraulics, and you were left staring at several walls of guns and weaponry. Some of them you knew. Mando had even taught you how to shoot a few, but those were typically smaller blasters.

And based on those howling screeches, you needed something with more of a kick.

Your eyes skipped over the blaster pistols since you already had the one on your hip, and after a moment’s indecision, your gaze settled on a midsized rifle you’d shot once before. You hadn’t been very good at it, only hit four of the ten targets Mando set out, and you remember it being very heavy.

But it was better than nothing, and you needed something to fight back against the dark jungle.

So, you took the rifle down and looped it around your shoulder, pursing your lips as the strap dug into your skin. You spent a moment checking the power cell and gas canister, and even though both were full, you still stuck a few spares into a belt that you wrapped around your hips. You also added a few grenades to your arsenal, both explosive and ones set to stun, plus a pair of Mando’s vibroknives, as a last defense measure. If you were being honest, if the rifle and grenades failed you, you probably wouldn’t live long enough to use the knives, but it made you feel better to clip their sheaths unto your belt.

The rifle and belt weighed you down with an extra five to six kilos, but you had lugged far heavier burdens through Tatooine’s desert, so you knew you could handle it.

The last two things you grabbed were the head lamp you typically wore when working under or inside ships and the cuff you’d programmed to work the twin lights—along with a variety of other tasks aboard the Razor Crest—resting at each of your temples. The cuff was a haphazard creation of yours made of old leather, metal, and glass, but it worked and was comfortable, which was all that mattered. It also had a small magnetic slot that was specifically meant for the remote of the foundling’s floating carrier, so you fished that out of your pocket and felt it snap into place with a satisfying click.

You were armed and ready now. All you had to do was move.

“Mando,” you said as you stuck the comlink in your ear and synced it to your cuff, which had a built-in frequency booster. You were already moving toward the ramp, tapping at your wrist and listening to the foundling’s carrier humming after you. The rifle felt heavy as you maneuvered it into your slick palms, and your heart hammered a war song in your ears. “Mando, I’m coming for you. Just hold on, okay?”

Static crackled in your ear, and your chest began to heave up and down as adrenaline flooded through you.

“Okay, little man, you’re going to take a nap, alright?” you said as you looked down at the child in his pod, your voice shaking even though you tried to stop it. “And when you wake up, your dad will be back with us.”

He cooed up at you with a fearful expression on his face, but you only spared a moment to press a kiss to his head before you were tapping at your wrist again. The lid of the pod started to hiss close as the ramp of the ship began to clank open, and you slid your finger onto the rifle’s trigger as the door slowly lowered before you.

The ramp finally thudded to the jungle floor, and you took a moment to stare out into the foreboding darkness. The moon was pale and wan in the purple-tinted sky, and all you could see were shadows along the edges of the clearing. Your eyes darted back and forth, every muscle in your body locked and braced for an attack, but nothing happened. Nothing moved save the indigo clouds over head, and the only sound you heard was the muted chirps and hums of insects.

“Okay, come on, quit stalling,” you muttered to yourself even though your heart felt like it was about to roll off your tongue. “Mando doesn’t have time for this.”

At the sound of his name—or at least, the only name you had ever known the bounty hunter by—some of the fear inside you vanished, and you were suddenly jogging down the ramp without further thought. The child’s carrier trailed after you quietly, and you jabbed at your wrist to close and lock up the Razor Crest.

You spared half a glance over your shoulder to make sure the ramp was secured, and then you looked down at your cuff. Mando’s comlink had a built in GPS transmitter, but its range was limited. However, if he was close enough to briefly contact you…

A dot flickered in and out on the grungy screen on your wrist, and you spun in a circle to figure out which direction had the strongest connection. The dot flared brightly when you angled toward the west, and you started running before you even had a plan.

You crashed through the underbrush with the child’s pod hot on your heels, and the thick, humid air sawed in and out of your heaving lungs as you gasped for breath. The lights at your temples provided enough illumination to see several steps ahead of you but not much else, and you tripped and careened over root and vine as you tried not to lose your grip on the rifle.

The good news was the dot on your read-out was no longer flickering, and it was now a strong red point about a kilometer ahead of you.

The bad news?

The jungle was no longer quiet around you.

As your feet pounded into the red soil and carried you forward, static crackled loudly in your ear, and the howling returned, faint at first but growing closer. Shivers wracked your sweat-slicked spine, and every fiber of your being was screaming to run the other way.

But you couldn’t. Because now you could hear Mando grunting and shouting over the comlink, clearer and clearer with each step, and as you vaulted over a protruding root in your path, you distinctly heard a roar of rage directly ahead of you.

You would have shouted his name if there was any breath left in your lungs, but instead you just lowered your head and sprinted as fast as you could.

The howling was nearly deafening now, echoing all around you, seeming to come from every shadow in the jungle. Your ears rang with the soul-piercing shrieks, and the cacophony was so disorienting, you tripped over your own feet and crashed into the dirt.

“Kriff!” you gasped, your knees and palms stinging as you skidded to a halt. Dots danced in front of your eyes as you panted harshly, and the rifle knocked painfully against your sternum.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the child’s pod come to a stop several feet away, the silver orb glinting in the pale moonlight barely filtering through the canopy.

Then you saw something else shift in the shadows behind the floating carrier.

At first, you thought it was your swimming vision, but then the weak lights of your headlamp reflected off several glinting eyes, and the breath stalled in your lungs.

A guttural, wet growl echoed out of the bushes beyond the foundling’s pod, and in the next instant the beast was lunging forward, vaulting over the carrier in one bound.

You yelped as you scrambled backward, fumbling for the rifle’s trigger, and you got the barrel up just in time to block a bifurcated jaw of gnashing fangs. The beast let out a piercing shriek as it snapped at your face, and the familiar sound nearly popped your eardrum at this proximity, but the pain barely even registered as you wedged your legs up under the creature’s chest and heaved it off you.

The beast let out a high-pitched yip as it smacked into a tree trunk, but you didn’t give it the chance to regain its feet. In one swift movement, you brought the rifle up, sighted down the barrel, and pulled the trigger.

The blaster must have been set on full-auto because a continuous stream of energy screamed out of the weapon, and the barrel jerked upward with the recoil. Bolts of energy shredded through the vines and branches overhead, and some kind of bat-bird creature screeched as it dove out of the canopy and swooped over you. It thankfully wasn’t trying to attack, merely flee, and the avian-beast cawed angrily as it disappeared into the jungle.

“P-Pfassk,” you panted, your voice as jittery as your racing pulse. Still, you scrambled to your feet, with the smoking rifle held tight in your shaking grasp, and you stared wide-eyed at the corpse of the beast that had attacked you.

The thing was almost two meters long, and six disjointed looking limbs jutted out from underneath it. Your would-be-killer looked vaguely canine yet also insect-like, with its long snout and what looked like scaled plates along its spine. The combination made your stomach churn. The blaster had carved smoldering holes into most of the creature’s flesh, but the uncharred remains were blackish-purple, mottled with spots of blue and green that matched the jungle’s underbrush. The beast was entirely hairless and slick-looking like an oil spill, and its bifurcated maw hung open to reveal rows of rotted black fangs. Two pairs of pale white eyes stared blindly up at the dark sky, and purplish blood seeped out around the carcass to stain the jungle floor.

Bile rose in your throat, but before you could even process your fear, terror, and revulsion, a very human sounding scream echoed through the dark night, and you whipped your head in the direction it had come from.

“Mando,” you breathed, and you spared the dead beast one last glance before you took off running again, every sense on high alert.

You didn’t dare blink as you crashed through the underbrush, and you pushed your aching limbs as fast as they would go. The din of snarling and howling was so loud now it was rattling your teeth, and all of the sudden you were stumbling out of the thick tree line and into a small clearing.

A clearing riddled with bodies, both living and dead.

Your brain stuttered as it tried to assess the scene before you. The canopy overhead was broken in a perfect circle, so the moonlight here was strong and bright after the deep shadows of the jungle, and it illuminated everything perfectly. The Mandalorian stood in the center of the carnage, half collapsed against a rotten log twice as tall as he was. Carcasses of the canine-like beasts were piled up in mounds around the clearing, some shot but some charred into blackened skeletons, and the stench of burnt flesh invaded your nose and sat heavy on the back of your tongue.

For every dead beast, though, there were two more still snarling, and boy, were they pissed.

The pack of creatures prowled in a semi-circle before the bounty hunter, all their attention centered on him, and they growled and snapped their bifurcated jaws in his direction. They didn’t seem to want to attack him head on, and a moment later you saw why.

One of the beasts must have reached its breaking point, because with the same piercing shriek that had kept you up the past two nights, it lunged for the Mandalorian, the moonlight glinting off the armored plates along its spine.

The poor bastard never made it.

While the creature was still in mid-air, Mando jerked his wrist up, and a blast of flames roared out of his vambrace. The beast screeched as it was swallowed by the inferno, and its charred corpse crashed to the ground at Mando’s feet a moment later. The remainder of the pack snarled in fury as they paced in front of the bounty hunter, but you felt your throat tighten with fear.

The flamethrower was obviously a great weapon at repelling these creatures, but judging by the radius on that last spurt of fire, you estimated Mando had enough fuel for one, maybe two more attacks.

And there were dozens of the beasts left.

What were you going to do?

You heaved for breath as your eyes darted around the clearing, trying to look for a solution, but you knew the answer was obvious: you were going to have to fight.

You blindly tapped at your wrist, and a moment later the child’s carrier rose up above your head and nestled against the lowest branch of the tree you were standing under. You didn’t know if the beasts could climb, but the pod was made of a strong, reinforced metal, so as long as the creatures didn’t notice the kid, he should be fine.

The same couldn’t be said for you.

Maker, you were going to regret this, weren’t you?

You didn’t give yourself the chance to change your mind.

“Hey!” you shouted as you stepped further into the clearing, one of your hands dropping to the belt on your waist.

The chorus of snarls and growls tapered off for a moment as the pack whipped around in unison to face you, and the saliva evaporated in your mouth as you stared at the dozens of glowing white eyes.

At the sound of your voice, you could see Mando jerk upright in your peripherals, but you didn’t dare tear your eyes off the pack as they started to stalk toward you. Sweat dripped down your face and trickled along your spine as you palmed a cold, heavy orb in your right hand, and you watched the distance between you and the creatures shrink bit by bit.

Mando shouted your name, but you ignored him.

“Yeah, that’s right!” you yelled at the beasts instead. “You guys hungry? Why don’t you come and get me?”

“What are you doing?” Mando roared, but you still didn’t pay him any mind as you tracked the pack. There were maybe three dozen left alive, and they bared their black fangs at you as they drew closer and closer.

Twenty meters… fifteen… ten…

Now.

“Take this!” You heaved your arm back, aimed at the beast in the center of the pack’s line, and threw with all your might, and the creature yelped as the stun grenade struck him in the skull.

A moment later, a web of electricity exploded out of the orb and arced through half of the pack, and the poor bastards screeched and screamed as they fell spasming to the jungle floor. The beasts on the edges snarled as they jumped away from their sparking brethren, and you saw some of the canine-monsters retreat into the shadows of the clearing.

This was your chance.

You darted forward the moment you had a clear path to take, and you vaulted over the pack’s twitching bodies in three swift strides. When you landed on the other side of them, you spun around and faced the fallen creatures as they whined and spasmed on the ground. Then you lifted your rifle, aimed haphazardly, and pulled the trigger. You swept the barrel from side to side for a moment, energy bolts tearing and searing through flesh, but then you whirled back around and sprinted toward the Mandalorian’s prone form.

He was propped up against the log with his legs splayed out in front of him, and you inhaled sharply when you saw the dark stain of blood on the ground beneath his right thigh. His Amban rifle lay beside him, but since he wasn’t using it, you assumed he was out of ammo. The bounty hunter listed heavily onto what you first thought was a rock of some kind, but as you skidded to a stop in front of him, you realized the lump was the body of another humanoid, except it didn’t look to be breathing.

“Mando!” you gasped as you crouched down in front of him. “Maker, w-what happened—”

“What are you doing here?” he cut you off with a snarl, and the absolute rage in his voice drew you up short.

You gaped at his visor, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “W-What… you called—”

“I didn’t call you, he did, right before they tore out his throat,” Mando growled and shoved the prone form beside him.

The body flopped over with a thud, and you stifled a gag when you realized the poor bastard had been eviscerated. He was torn open from gut to gullet, intestines and innards gleaming wetly in the dark, and his bulging black eyes stared up unseeingly at the moon.

“Dank farrik, Mando,” you breathed in horror. “What happened?”

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet up to look at you, but then his gaze seemed to shift over your shoulder, and he was suddenly latching onto your wrist with an iron grip and tugging you forward.

“Watch out!” he shouted as you tripped over his legs and landed on the other side of him, and a moment later you heard and felt the roar of flames at your back as another beast met a smoldering end.

You scrambled up onto your knees and whirled around, rifle held at the ready, but there were only the two new dead creatures sprawled at Mando’s feet. Their corpses smoked as their blackened flesh crackled, and this time you weren’t successful in stifling your gag. You dry-heaved off to the side, tears blurring your vision, but when the chorus of bone-chilling howls started up again, you blinked away the tears and clenched your rifle in a white-knuckled grip.

“We gotta get out of here,” you panted, your eyes darting from place to place as you tried to track the beasts slithering through the shadows.

“Can’t,” Mando grunted, and all of the sudden, you realized his voice sounded off, slurred.

You whipped back around to face the bounty hunter, and your gaze immediately fell to the dark stain under his leg. It had grown since you’d first seen it, and then you realized a haphazard tourniquet was lashed around the top of his leg, right above the metal plate that covered the front of his thigh.

“You’re hurt,” you breathed. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Mando’s head jerked up and down in an unsteady nod. “Just… happened. One of them got me… when I was trying to save the bounty. Pretty sure they nicked my femoral.”

His words were softer and definitely slurred now, and panic rose up in your throat like a burning coal.

“Then we need to get back to the Razor Crest now,” you said as you reached for his shoulders, but the Mandalorian sluggishly shoved you away.

“I’ll… only slow you down,” he grunted. “The bounty and I… are easy meals. The pack should stay to finish us off while you make a break for the sh—”

“No,” you cut him off, and the snarl in your voice surprised even you. “No, Mando. I’m not leaving you to die. We’re only a kilometer away from the Razor Crest. I have extra power cells and grenades. We can make it.”

Mando’s head thunked back against the log he leaned on as he stared up at you, and even if you couldn’t see the face underneath the visor, you could see the resignation in every inch of him.

And it ignited a fury in you unlike anything you had ever known.

“So, what?” you growled, bending down to bare your teeth in his face. “You’re just gonna sit here and die? What about the kid? You just gonna abandon him?”

You’re just going to abandon me? you didn’t say, but the words rattled against the backs of your clenched teeth.

“He’ll… have you,” Mando said, and suddenly his gloved hand reached up as if to touch your face, but he didn’t seem to have the strength, and the tip of his index finger barely grazed the edge of your jaw. His touch left behind a warm streak on your skin, and you didn’t have to look to know it was blood.

“That’s not good enough,” you snarled before you stooped down and grabbed the ends of his makeshift tourniquet, yanking tightly on both ends until Mando groaned in pain and latched onto your shoulders.

He murmured your name, his modulator crackling in your ear, but you ignored him as you looped his spent Amban rifle over his shoulder and shifted to slide your left arm behind his back, throwing his right arm over your shoulders. You took two deep breaths to brace yourself, and then you dug your fingers into his waist as you tried to leverage the both of you onto your feet.

It was nearly impossible. The Mandalorian had to weigh nearly ninety kilos in his beskar, and with the added weight of the weapons and grenades you carried, you could feel the muscles in your legs, core, and back scream at the strain.

“Dank… farrik,” you hissed out between clenched teeth, but you managed to get the two of you upright, even if Mando was practically limp against you. Still, you had to leverage your back against the log behind you to keep from collapsing.

“We’ll never make it… back to the ship like this,” Mando panted, his cold helmet brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Shut up,” you gritted out, listening to the howling beasts closing in again like they could sense your weakness. “I refuse to leave you behind. So, unless you want to kill us both, you need to get your ass in gear, Mando. I can keep them off our backs as we go, but you need to walk with me. Understand?”

“Cyare,” he slurred, and the unfamiliar word sounded pained as his helmet thunked into your temple. “I… don’t want you to die.”

“Then walk,” you grunted as you tightened your grip on his waist and lurched forward a step.

Mando staggered behind you, half draped over your back, but you widened your stance and refused to go down.

“Please… Mando,” you panted, shoving the barrel of your rifle into the loamy red soil to act as a crutch. “Help me save us. Just… just put one foot in front of the other.”

“Wait,” the Mandalorian said, and he actually lifted his head off your shoulder. “The bounty…”

“The bounty’s dead,” you grunted as your eyes darted to the trees again. You could see the sinuous shapes of the pack weaving between the towering trunks, but they kept their distance for the moment. They’d lost more than half of their numbers by your estimate, and you prayed to the Maker they would just give up, but you knew that would be way too convenient for your life.

“The puck… said dead or alive,” Mando sighed, his arm weighing down on the nape of your neck like a yoke, and it reminded you of the slave’s collar you once wore.

“I can’t carry both of you back, Mando,” you growled in frustration. “I can barely drag you.”

“Don’t need the whole body,” he clarified. “Just… the head. It’s… a big bounty.”

You groaned as you glanced down at the quarry’s corpse, and then you tilted your head back to try and look at Mando.

“Can you stand by yourself for a minute?” you asked.

“Maybe,” Mando grunted, but he shifted his weight off you bit by bit and leaned up against the tall log at your backs. His boots slid a few inches in the blood-soaked dirt as he almost collapsed, but he dug his gloved fingers into the rigid bark and stood there shaking.

“Didn’t know I was paying you for maybes,” you parroted his words from days ago back at him in an attempt to take his mind off the pain, and it seemed to work because he actually huffed out a strained-sounding chuckle.

“Hurry,” he panted, and you nodded as you quickly stepped away from him, stood over the bounty’s corpse, and shoved the barrel of your rifle between his shoulder and neck.

It was so dark, and you were running on so much adrenaline you couldn’t even be sure of what species the man used to be, but you pushed the thought away as you took a deep breath and held down the trigger.

The rifle screeched as it tore through flesh like a hot knife through butter, and you tried to ignore the feeling of lukewarm blood splattering across your lower legs. Moments later, the jittery, rapid-fire motions of the gun ceased, and the bounty’s head rolled away from the smoldering stump of his neck.

Bile rose up in your throat again, but you swallowed it down as you picked up the decapitated head and started punching buttons on your cuff.

Instantly, you heard the familiar hum of the child’s pod drone closer and closer, and behind you Mando inhaled sharply as the jungle dogs yipped in curiosity from the shadows.

“You brought the kid?” he growled.

“Well, it wasn’t like you left me much kriffing choice, but you can fire me later for child endangerment,” you snapped as the carrier floated down to stop in front of you. Then you turned to the Mandalorian and held out your bloodied hand. “I need your fibercord whip. Eject it.”

Mando didn’t even question you, he just did as he was bid. Within moments, you had the thin but strong wire wound up in your palm, and then you started the gory process of wrapping it securely around the bounty’s bloody head. Your stomach churned at the slick warm goo covering your skin, but you swallowed the saliva pooling in your mouth as you tapped at your wrist again.

The child’s pod opened with a hiss, and you made sure to lower the decapitated head so it was below the carrier and out of the foundling’s line of sight.

“Hey there, bud,” you said as you leaned down and tucked the end of the fibercord into the interior of the pod near the hinges. “Look who I found.”

The foundling cooed and gurgled happily when he caught sight of the Mandalorian, and he lifted his arms and made grabby motions at the bounty hunter.

“Not yet,” you said as you stepped forward and blocked Mando from view. “First, we need to get back to the ship, so I need to close you up again. Don’t worry about anything you hear, though, okay? I promise we’ll be fine.”

The child murmured a soft sound as you bent down and kissed his wrinkled brow, but then you tapped at your wrist, and the pod closed with another hiss, locking the wire with the dangling head in place. You keyed in a few more commands, and the carrier rose up high above you, hovering at least six meters off the ground. Blood dripped from the severed stump of the quarry’s neck as it dangled from the pod, and you flinched when a speck of it landed on your cheek. It might be disgusting, but this way, the child and the remainder of the bounty would hopefully be out of reach of any of the beasts, and you could focus all your energy on getting you and Mando back to the Razor Crest.

“Alright.” You tore your gaze away from the silver pod and shifted your grasp on the rifle, wedging the stock against your right shoulder as tight as you could. You knew your aim would be abysmal since you were going have to shoot one handed while dragging Mando, but you hoped the full-auto setting would grant you some leeway. “Let’s go.”

“You really should—” the Mandalorian started, but you clicked your tongue to cut him off.

“That wasn’t a request,” you said as you sidled up against the bounty hunter and double checked that his tourniquet was secure.

“Fine.” He reluctantly draped his right arm over your shoulder, and you wrapped your left one around his waist. Then the two of you pushed off the log at your backs, and you staggered forward several steps, trying not to trip on any dead jungle dogs.

Mando’s cold beskar felt like it was burning you wherever it brushed against your bare, hot flesh, and he groaned in your ear as he practically dragged his injured leg behind him. The agony of his voice made you want to stop and sprint forward all at the same time, but you settled for stumbling several more steps.

“That’s it,” you panted in encouragement. “One step at a time.”

The pack howled and shrieked as you painstakingly shuffled your way across the clearing, but you haphazardly aimed your rifle into the jungle and held down the trigger. Rapid-fire bolts of energy careened into the darkness, illuminating white eyes and flashes of twining vines and snarling beasts, but several yowls echoed through the night, so you knew you’d hit at least some of them.

“Mando,” you gritted out as you neared the tree line. “I need you to hit my cuff. There’s a button on the side that will turn up my headlamp. I want it at maximum. Since these bastards are nocturnal, I’m guessing they don’t like the light.”

The Mandalorian grunted something that sounded like an affirmative, and then his left hand was swatting blindly at your cuff. After fumbling for a moment, his thick, gloved fingers encircled your wrist, his thumb brushing faintly over your thudding pulse point.

Your feet nearly tangled beneath you, but then Mando found the button on your cuff, and he pressed on it until the lights at your temple were bright enough to blind. The beams of white light cut through the oppressive darkness of the jungle, and the canine creatures yelped in pain as they darted back into the shadows. You swung your gaze back and forth, your lamp dragging over the scenery like a burning laser, and the beasts whimpered as their tails disappeared into the bushes.

“Come on,” you groaned as you dragged Mando forward, and the two of you finally stumbled into the thick of the trees.

You didn’t know how much time passed as you and the Mandalorian struggled back to the ship. Seconds seemed like minutes, minutes hours. The moon appeared frozen in the sky above your head, and more than once you had the thought that you were already dead, and this was some messed up version of an afterlife where you were tortured for eternity.

In the end, though, you knew you were alive.

If you weren’t, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Left,” Mando slurred in your ear, half draped over your back, and your feet stuttered as you swung both of you around to the left.

The rifle screeched as it fired off into the darkness, followed by the yelps of dying dogs, and you hissed as the stock dug into your already sore shoulder. The pack snarled and gurgled as they encircled you, but they were hesitant now that you’d killed a majority of them. You wondered why they just didn’t give up, but you realized they could most likely sense you weakening, slowing.

Sweat ran in rivers down your face and spine, and every tendon in your body felt like it was on the edge of snapping. You could tell Mando was trying to take some of his weight off you, but he was becoming more and more unsteady with each step, his breath jagged and uneven as it rasped out of his helmet. He probably wouldn’t remain conscious for much longer, and if he passed out before you reached the ship, you were both dead. You couldn’t fully carry him, and you would not even entertain the idea of leaving him, so it was all or nothing.

Either you both reached the ship together, or neither of you did.

But, as you glanced up at the child’s pod hovering high over your head, you knew the second choice wasn’t really an option. The kid needed you. Needed both of you.

So, you were going to kriffing live, even if you had to break your body down to achieve your goal.

“Come on,” you encouraged as you stumbled over a tree root. “Come on, Mando. We’re almost there. Stay with me, okay?”

You had no idea if you were almost there or not. The homing beacon on your cuff was beeping steadily, but with all the howling, and the blood pounding through your ears, you couldn’t approximate how close you were to the Razor Crest.

“I’m… trying,” Mando mumbled, lifting his head just slightly. “B-Behind us.”

You cursed under your breath, letting the rifle dangle against your chest as you fumbled at your waist. Your fingers curled around a cold, metal orb, and you clicked the button in its center before you lobbed the grenade over your shoulder with all the strength you had left, which wasn’t much.

Then you staggered forward a little faster, dragging the bounty hunter behind you, and five seconds later, you heard the stun grenade go off, followed by the crackling of static and the yelping of beasts.

“That’s my last… stun grenade,” you panted, and the hair on your arms stood on end with all the electricity in the moist air. “I have some explosive ones… but…”

“But we’re not fast enough to get out of range in time,” Mando finished for you, his helmet bumping into the crown of your head as he sagged a little more.

“Yeah,” you huffed, but then a crunch to your right had you whirling and firing in one motion.

The canine yipped and screeched as the energy bolts tore through its chest mid-lunge, and it crashed into the ground at your feet as you staggered into a tree. The bark scraped painfully across your bare shoulder blades, and Mando groaned as you almost lost your grip on him.

“No,” you growled, tightening your arm around the bounty hunter and tugging you both upright. “Dank… farrik!”

The muscles in your arm burned hotly from the strain of keeping the Mandalorian on his feet, and you bit through your tongue to keep from crying out, the metallic taste of blood coating your teeth and whetting your parched mouth.

You stumbled forward blindly as you tried to work through the pain, but all the sudden, the claustrophobic darkness caused by the towering trees lessened a few degrees. You thought you were hallucinating it at first, but then you lifted your head a fraction and realized the trees were thinning out ahead of you.

And the beacon in your cuff was beeping like mad.

You were almost there. The Razor Crest was so close.

Of course, that’s when the snarling behind you reached new frantic heights, and you knew the pack was gearing up for one final assault.

“Mando, listen to me,” you gasped as you shifted to shove him against a tree, using your palm to keep him rooted at the sternum and on his feet.

He groaned as he listed there, mumbling something that didn’t sound like it was in Basic, but he remained upright, so you seized the opportunity to jab at the screen on your wrist. A moment later, the child’s pod swooped down from where it had been hovering near the canopy, and the bounty’s head dragged against the jungle floor with a dull crunch. You tweaked the carrier’s settings half blind, one eye on the encroaching darkness and the beasts therein, and then you grabbed the floating orb and shoved it against Mando’s gut.

“Ugh,” the bounty hunter grunted, his feet starting to slide out from under him.

“No, lean forward,” you rushed out, grabbing one of his shoulders and tugging him toward you.

Mando moaned as he collapsed onto the child’s pod, but since you’d cranked up the carrier’s power output to the max, the bounty hunter didn’t crash to the ground. Instead, he hung there half suspended, the pod whirling angrily from his added weight, his feet limp and dragging behind him.

“Mando,” you said as you tapped the side of his helmet, eyes still on the shadowy trees. “Mando, I need you to hold onto that pod as tight as you can, okay? Can you hear me?”

“Hear… you,” the Mandalorian just barely breathed, and you saw his arms wrap around the bottom of the silver carrier.

“Hold on like your life depends on it,” you instructed as you tapped at your wrist again. “Because it does.”

“What—” he started to ask, but he didn’t get to finish the question because the pod was suddenly surging forward, in the direction of the ship. The bounty’s head and Mando’s feet dragged loudly against the ground, but with one last jolt of power, the pod lifted away from the jungle floor and began to float away.

The pod would probably have just enough power to get Mando back to the ship before it died, but that was fine. That was just what you needed.

The jungle dogs howled and shrieked as they watched the Mandalorian drifting away through the trees, but as you listened to them start to skirt around you in his direction, you finally gripped the rifle with two hands and aimed into the dark.

Then you pulled the trigger, full-auto, and the shrieking of the energy bolts collided with the screeching of the canines and crescendoed into a deafening cacophony. You sprayed the jungle in wide sweeps as you slowly started to walk backward toward the Razor Crest, the rifle stock jolting into your shoulder in time with your racing heart. You just needed to give Mando time to reach the ship. You had programmed the pod to open the ramp at a certain distance, so they would just fly on into the cargo bay, and it would close behind them. Once they were safe, you could make a break for it and—

Suddenly, one of the shadows broke away from the trunk directly to your right, and you turned too late to see it was a slavering beast, its bifurcated jaw wide open and aimed for your throat.

“Ahh!” You stumbled back, trying to crane away from those jagged black fangs, but your feet got tangled up beneath you, and you came crashing down. A root slammed into one of your rear ribs so hard you heard and felt the snap as the bone gave, but you didn’t even have time to register that pain before the jungle dog smashed into your chest.

You instinctively shoved your arms outward, wedging the rifle between those deadly, snapping jaws. One of the beast’s jagged fangs scraped down your forearm as you tried to keep the bastard from swallowing you whole, and you screamed in fury and pain as blood spilled from your rending flesh.

Then you brought your knee up and smashed it as hard as you could into the jungle dog’s ribcage, and this time you felt its rib snap, and grim satisfaction burned like a wildfire through your blood. The warmth filled your limbs until you thought you would burst into flame, and you kicked the beast again and again as it yipped.

You were just starting to think you had the upper hand when the creature’s jaw started to close with a creaking sound of bone on metal, and your eyes widened in horror as the canine jerked its head back, taking your rifle with it. Then its bifurcated jaw snapped close with a horrible crunch, and the rifle shattered into shards of metal and sparks.

The beast roared in pain and rage as it tossed the remains of your rifle aside, but now you were acting on pure survival instinct, not thought, not logic, and you were already wrenching two grenades and a vibroknife off your belt when the nightmare dog finally settled its four milky white eyes on your face.

“Eat this, you bastard,” you snarled as its terrible jaws, rowed with serrated teeth, descended on you.

Then with one hand you stabbed the vibroknife into its neck just above the shoulder, and with the other you activated the grenades and shoved both of them down the jungle dog’s throat.

Warm blood sprayed down on you like humid rainfall, and you twisted the blade in to the hilt, feeling as it tore through flesh in a jittery fashion. The creature gagged and gurgled as its throat muscles convulsed around your other wrist for just an instant, but then you yanked your arms back with all your might, teeth catching on your elbow again, before you crashed into the dirt.

You were scrambling up in the next instant, barely listening to the creature heaving and choking behind you as you staggered forward into a clumsy sprint.

The rest of the pack howled at your back, but you were flat out running now, and you could see the Razor Crest through the trees. The pounding of paws on dirt sounded at your heels, and you couldn’t tell if you were gasping for breath or sobbing as you tore the final grenades off your belt, activated them, and let them fall through your numb fingers.

In the next instant, you broke through the tree line, and you could see the ramp of the Razor Crest, closing. You slapped at your wrist blindly as you sprinted as fast as you could, lungs heaving to the point of seizures, legs at the point of collapse. You didn’t know if the dogs were still right behind you, but the grenades…

You must have finally hit the right command because the ramp suddenly shuddered before it started to lower again, and you were ten meters away when the grenades went off like dominoes falling.

The first two explosions—of the grenades you shoved into the jungle dog—only shook the ground hard enough to make you stumble forward, but then the rest of them detonated much closer, and the combined shockwave hit you moments later and catapulted you into the air.

Thankfully, the ramp was just low enough that you scraped over it and crashed into the ship, smashing into a bulkhead with a dull crunch. The howling shrieks of dying dogs reached you through the ringing in your ears, and you felt a wave of heat hit you as the grenades engulfed the jungle trees. You curled into a ball on the cargo bay floor, your back to the ramp, and you just barely had the presence of mind to tap at your wrist one last time. A moment later, you heard the whirling of the ramp closing, and when it clanked shut a moment later, you rolled over onto your back and stared blindly above you.

You could just barely hear the roar of the building wildfire outside the ship, and the screeching of the jungle dogs died down within seconds. Your entire body—your lungs, your heart—heaved up and down as adrenaline pulsed through you like a bad hit of spice, and your ears ached in the relative silence.

Then the child cooed, and Mando groaned weakly, and you jolted upright like you had just been struck by lightning.

“Mando,” you rasped, flipping over onto your raw hands and bruised knees.

The bounty hunter half-sat, half-sprawled on the floor at the foot of his bunk. The foundling’s pod lay askew on the ground in front of the fresher like it had crash landed there when it finally died, but the child stood unharmed beside the Mandalorian.

Who was currently bleeding out on the floor of the cargo bay.

“Kriff!” You scrambled forward when you saw the spreading stain of blood below his leg, and as you drew closer, you realized his tourniquet must have been loosened when he collapsed.        

The Mandalorian barely even seemed conscious at this point. His chest stirred only slightly beneath his beskar chest plate, and if it weren’t for the soft groans he was exhaling, you would have thought him dead.

“Mando!” you shouted as you shakily rose onto your feet and staggered the rest of the way to the fresher. Your hands were shaking as you tore one of the storage compartments open in search of a med kit, and your voice cracked when you said his name again. “Mando! Stay with me. We made it back. We’re on the ship. Just stay with me for a few more moments. Please.”

You crashed down onto your knees beside the bounty hunter, tearing the med kit open with bloody hands and broken nails. His helmeted head lolled onto the edge of the bunk behind him, and you could barely hear his raspy breaths through the modulator.

The child stood between Mando’s splayed boots, eyes large and frightened, but you couldn’t pay him any mind right now. Your frantic gaze darted between the bacta gel patch in your hand and Mando’s bleeding leg, and even though it felt crazy, you set the patch down for a moment and reached for the last vibroknife on your belt.

Suddenly, Mando jerked awake with a gasp, and you reached out without thinking, pressing your left palm over his heart and feeling his faint, fluttering pulse.

“Mando, I’m right here,” you murmured soothingly. “Keep breathing for me.”

The Mandalorian muttered your name as his head lolled toward you.

“Yes, that’s me, I’m here,” you said, rising up on your knees and leaning over him. The vibroknife glimmered in your hand, looking like a real-life glitch, but you shook off the unsettling feeling and fixed your eyes on Mando’s visor.

“Mesh’la,” the Mandalorian slurred. The word was soft and elongated to the point of sounding like gibberish, but his hand settled firmly on the wrist you still had pressed to his heart, like he was talking directly to you.

In any other situation, your own heart would be fluttering with a feeling you didn’t want to name, but as the bounty hunter’s blood started to soak into the knees of your pants, all you could feel was dread.

“I need you to stay still, okay?” you said as you dropped your hand from his chest to grip the top of his injured thigh. “I need to cut your pants away from the wound.”

“O… kay,” he muttered, and his hand fell to settle over yours again on his leg like he was grounding himself by touching you.

“Nice and easy,” you cooed, trying to blink the tears out of your eyes so you could see to cut through his pants and not his flesh. “I’ll have that bacta patch on in just a moment. Why don’t you talk to me, huh? Mando, talk to me. Tell me something. J-Just stay awake.”

“Aw…ake,” he whispered, but it sounded like he was just repeating you now, barely clinging to consciousness.

Your hand shook as you slowly sawed through the blood-soaked fabric, and an aborted sob rose in your throat. But you shoved your hysteria down, down, down, you had no time for it, you had to stay level-headed, steady-handed, Mando was counting on you, Mando was dying.

“Mando,” you choked as you finally pulled the cloth away from his wound. Three parallel gashes, each nearly five centimeters deep, ran from his hip crease and nearly all the way to his knee, and blood pulsed sluggishly from the wounds in crimson gobs. “Oh, Maker, Mando.”

You dropped the vibroknife with a loud clang as you lunged for the bacta patch, and out of your peripherals you could see the child waddling closer, standing in between the Mandalorian’s knees, the hem of his little robe slowly staining scarlet. You didn’t have the heart or the strength to shove the child away now, so instead you focused on settling the bacta patch over the bounty hunter’s grisly injuries.

Mando twitched and inhaled sharply as the bacta adhered to his skin, and you sent up a million prayers to the Maker that you had administered aid in time.

“There y-you go,” you sniffled, unable to stop the tears from coursing down your cheeks now. “I got the patch on, Mando. You’re going t-to be okay. You… you have to be okay. Do you hear me, Mando?”

You felt like a glitching holotape repeating his name over and over, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You wanted, no needed, him to stay awake, and every time you said his name, he seemed to jerk a little, like he’d been recalled from a long distance at the sound of your voice.

For a moment, there was only the faint, raspy wheeze of the Mandalorian’s breath through his helmet, but then he suddenly mumbled something.

“What?” You shuffled closer, slipping in blood. You practically had your ear pressed against his visor. “What was that, Mando? Say it again. Come on, talk to me, Mando.”

“Not… Mando.”

The words were stilted, sluggish, and you frowned in confusion. “Huh? I-I don’t understand.”

“My… name isn’t… Mando,” the bounty hunter struggled out, and his helmet tilted forward a fraction like he had lifted his head and was looking right at you. “It’s… Din. Din Djarin.”

The shock you felt was muted, distant and removed, like a crack that formed deep in the heart of a glacier, buried beneath the adrenaline, horror, and helplessness warring within you.

“Din,” you breathed, and the word somehow tasted like the exact moment Peli dug out your transmitter chip. It tasted like freedom, like infinite possibility, and you didn’t understand why.

Mando—no, Din, Din Djarin—exhaled heavily as his head thunked back against the bunk, and even if you couldn’t see it, you could tell his eyes were slipping closed. “I… wanted at least someone to know before I—”

“No,” you cut him off vehemently, reaching out to cradle the sides of his helmet like you were cupping his face. “No, you’re not going to die. Not now. Not when… no, do you hear me, Din Djarin? I will not allow you to die. Not when I worked my ass off to fix this ship and drag you back onto it by the skin of my kriffing teeth.”

“Mmmm.” Din’s head lolled in your grasp, the weight of him growing heavier and heavier. “I knew I would like the way… you say my name.”

Oh, Maker. He was nonsensical now, and terror gripped you by the throat and squeezed.

“Then stay awake, Din,” you begged, and your heart felt like it was on the edge of a great precipice. “Stay awake for me.”

“’m so… tired,” he sighed.

“I know,” you breathed as you guided his head back to rest against the bunk, and you couldn’t speak above a whisper because your voice was thick with tears. “I know, but just listen to my voice, Din. Just—”

You trailed off as the child suddenly waddled into your line of sight, and you dropped your gaze slightly to find him standing between the Mandalorian’s thighs, right next to the bacta covered wounds. The foundling stared up at the bounty hunter with a furrowed, seemingly determined expression, and then he closed his big brown eyes as he reached for Din’s leg.

“Oh, buddy, don’t,” you started, reaching out to stop him, but Din—Maker, his name felt delicious and forbidden even in your mind—weakly placed his hand on your wrist to stop you.

“It’s… okay,” he panted. “He can help.”

“Help?” You frowned down at the child. How could he help? Was this one of the “powers” the bounty hunter had vaguely mentioned before? You thought the foundling’s ability dealt with physically moving things, not healing, but honestly you could do for a miracle right about now.

The child gurgled a small noise as his three fingers settled over Din’s wound, and the Mandalorian inhaled sharply at the same time that you felt… something. You weren’t sure what it was, but it was like the very air shifted, became magnetic, charged somehow. The air stilled in your lungs as you feared even the barest breath would fracture this fragile spell you were bearing witness to, and you watched with wide eyes as the gashes on the bounty hunter’s legs began to close right in front of you.

Bacta worked fast… but not that fast.

Several still, endless seconds passed as the foundling healed the Mandalorian, but then just as soon as it began, the moment ended. The atmosphere snapped almost tangibly, time jolted back into motion, and the child suddenly started to pitch backward.

“Oh!” you gasped as you lunged forward, your hands cupping the baby and bringing him close to your body. The foundling’s eyes were closed, his face slack, but his little chest still moved up and down with breath.

“He’s okay.”

You snapped your head up, more tears spilling down your cheeks with the motion.

Din was sitting up a little straighter, and his helmet looked squarely at you. His voice sounded stronger, too, and you gaped at him in bewilderment.

“He’s okay,” the Mandalorian repeated when you continued to blink at him. “He usually… tires himself out when he uses his powers.”

“I d-didn’t know he could do that,” you breathed, and your tongue felt like a disembodied lump of flesh in your mouth. “I… wait, how do you feel? A-Are you okay?”

You suddenly realized how close you still were to the bounty hunter, practically kneeling in his lap, but you ignored this as your eyes darted back to his leg. It was a little hard to tell through the dried blood and blue bacta, but it looked like the three gashes had closed altogether, leaving behind faint pink lines.

“I’ll survive,” the bounty hunter sighed, thunking his head back against the bunk again, but he tilted it to the side to regard you still. “Thanks to you.”

“I-I’m not the one who just healed you with magic,” you stuttered incredulously as your cheeks flared hot, and you cuddled the child against your chest even though you realized you knew almost nothing about the apparently powerful foundling.

“No,” Mando said evenly, “but you did charge out into a dark, unknown, dangerous jungle, fight off a pack of wild dogs, and drag both me and the bounty back safely.”

“Well,” you snorted with an edge of hysteria in your voice, and you gestured to the discarded head that lay sprawled against the corner of the fresher. “I don’t know if I’d say he got here safely.”

Maker, you felt a little crazy, hollowed out and wrung dry by the sheer amount of emotions you’d just experienced in a span of a few minutes.

“I’m serious,” the Mandalorian replied. “You… saved my life. I am in your debt.”

“I-I’m not one for debts.” You shook your head to try and clear it, dropping your gaze to the foundling’s face, nuzzled against your sternum. “I don’t like to owe anyone or be owed. You’ve stuck your neck out for me before, so let’s just call it even… Din.”

You saw the bounty hunter freeze out of the corner of your eye, and you bit your cheek until you tasted blood.

You should have known that was too much to ask for.

“Sorry,” you muttered, peeking up at the Mandalorian through your lashes. “You… mentioned your name when you were—”

“I remember,” Mando said, cutting you off, but you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his expression hidden as always and his voice pitched in a way you didn’t recognize, couldn’t identify.

“Right.” You cleared your throat, feeling the adrenaline starting to drain out of you and be replaced by every ache and pain you had ignored in lieu of survival. “Of course, I can just forget about it. You weren’t exactly in your right mind, after all. I’ll just… using ‘Mando’ is fine for me.”

The Mandalorian’s visor stared you down unflinchingly for what felt like an eternity. Then…

“You can… use my name, if you like,” he said haltingly, then quickly amended himself. “But only when we’re alone, on the ship. I… my name could be a dangerous thing in the hands of my enemies.”

You blinked in shock at the bounty hunter.

“A-Are you sure?” you asked, and you tried to keep the hope out of your voice, but you knew you failed miserably. “O-Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You’d thought giving up his name had just been a delusional, dying declaration, and you didn’t want him to regret it. What you said had been true enough. You were fine using “Mando,” even if the traitorous feelings buried deep in your chest said otherwise.

“I’m sure.” The bounty hunter nodded minutely. “I… trust you.”

The admission flooded your whole body with warmth, and goosebumps broke out across your skin. You’d known the Mandalorian trusted you, he wouldn’t have left his ship or his foundling in your care otherwise, but hearing him say the words felt like something out of a dream.

“Okay, then.” You smiled, heart thudding against where the child was pressed into your chest. “Din.”

At the sound of his name, the tension in the Mandalorian’s worn body seemed to bleed out of him entirely, and he sighed as his helmet fell back again.

“Let’s get off this Maker-forsaken planet,” he grumbled.

“I second that,” you chuckled dryly before you slowly clambered to your feet, careful not to slip in Din’s tacky blood or jostle the sleeping baby in your arms. You very gingerly leaned over the prone Mandalorian to set the foundling in his hammock, but you hissed when the movement jarred the bruised or fractured rib in your back.

“What’s wrong?” Din asked below you, and he was so close you could feel the rumble of his modulated voice against the bare skin of your stomach, your tank top having lifted up a fraction.

“Nothing.” You took a quick step backward, trying to put distance between you and the bounty hunter, but now that he was no longer actively dying, you were starting to realize you were a little more beat up then you’d previously thought.

The moment you stepped back on your right leg, your hamstring seized up, and when you went to grab at it, you realized your fingers were a little numb. You glanced down and saw fresh blood dripping down your forearm—your blood, not Mando’s—and the sight of the wound seemed to flip a switch in your brain because a moment later, pain crashed over you like a wave.

“Dank farrik,” Mando cursed lowly as he tried to shove himself up.

“No, no, no, no,” you babbled, holding out your less injured left hand in a gesture to stop him. “Don’t get up so fast.”

“You’re hurt,” he grunted, and you could practically hear the scowl in his voice as he tilted his helmet back to stare at you. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” you stressed, even though you could still taste blood on the back of your tongue. “Also, you seriously have no room to talk. You were literally just bleeding out less than five minutes ago.”

“How much bacta do we have left?” he asked, completely ignoring your statement. “We should take care of your injuries before they get any worse.”

“Maker, you’re not even listening to me, are you?” You rolled your eyes as you leaned your shoulder against the bulkhead, but when the Mandalorian started to get up again, you held your hand out once more. “Alright! Alright. Let me at least set the coordinates to meet up with the client and get the ship in the air. I’m pretty sure the jungle is burning down around us as we speak anyway, so the sooner we lift off, the better.”

Din stared up at you silently for a moment like he wanted to argue.

“It will take me two minutes, max,” you reasoned with him. “I won’t pass out or die in that time frame, okay?”

“Fine,” he finally sighed and dropped his chin to his chest. “Just… be careful climbing up there.”

“I’ll try my best,” you snorted, wincing when pain flared through your body, but you still slowly made your way to the ladder.

It took you way longer to climb five rungs than it should have, but you thought not falling back into the cargo bay was a feat in itself, given how every muscle in your arms and legs twitched in pain. The blood pouring down your arm also did nothing to help your grip, nor did your scraped up palms, but you still made it into the cockpit relatively unscathed.

Dawn was just breaking beyond the windows, but you could barely see it through the black smoke that hung thick in the air. Guilt sat heavy in your chest as you saw the charred trees and the birds fleeing the flames overhead, but you told yourself you did what you had to in order to survive.

And it wasn’t like you were walking away scot-free, either. Your arm pounded painfully in time with your slowing pulse, and every time you took a deep breath, you became a little surer that the rib in your back was, in fact, broken.

You punched in the client’s rendezvous coordinates without sitting in the pilot’s chair since you knew if you sat down now there was no way you were getting back up. While you waited for the Razor Crest to power up, you cringed at the blood you were dripping all over the floor, but there was nothing for it at this point. The whole ship would need a thorough scrub down the next time you made a pit stop, but that was a future-you problem. Right now, you were mainly focused on getting off this planetoid and out into orbit without crashing and burning.

You held your breath as the pre-Empire ship rose up above the now smoldering jungle, but no warning alarms or messages sounded. The Razor Crest glided steadily upward, and you leaned heavily on the control panel as you breeched first the clouds and then the atmosphere. Entering orbit rattled the ship and you more than you cared for, but nothing broke off or burst into flame, and before you knew it, you were drifting through the familiar black void of space.

“Thank the kriffing Maker,” you sighed as the autopilot took over, and then you turned and shuffled back to the ladder, exhaustion starting to make the edges of your vision go fuzzy.

Or maybe that was blood loss?

You were a little less graceful with the descent than you were with the ascent, but you at least landed on your feet before you nearly collapsed into the fresher.

“Careful,” Mando’s modulated voice murmured, and suddenly his bare hand was on your left, uninjured elbow, skin against warm skin.

“What are… you doing up?” You frowned as you studied the Mandalorian, trying to make sense of what you were seeing as he led you to sit in the open mouth of his bunk.

“I told you,” he said, reaching over and grabbing another med kit from the fresher. “We need to take care of your injuries before they get any worse.”

“You should be resting,” you grumbled, but you were too tired to put any real heat behind your voice.

“I’m fine,” Din parroted your earlier proclamation back at you. “The kid did a thorough job.”

Then the bounty hunter sat on a crate before you, a crate that hadn’t been there before, and you realized he was no longer wearing a majority of his beskar, save the ever-present helmet, of course. Instead, a faded but clean pair of duraweave clothes covered his body, and the bloodied outfit you’d basically sliced off him was piled up between his feet. It also looked like he had haphazardly tried to mop up some of his blood with the dirty clothes, and you wondered if you’d been up in the cockpit longer than you thought.

“Hey,” you chuckled suddenly, and you distantly noted that your voice was a little slurred with exhaustion. “Looks like I’ll have some new rags after all.”

You giggled a little loopily as you gestured to the Mandalorian’s blood-soaked clothes and then to the blood and dirt your outfit was also currently coated in, but Mando didn’t seem as amused as you were.

“Let me see your arm,” he said as his helmet stared at you impassively, but then he paused and added, “Please.”

“It’s really not that bad,” you tried to argue as you held out your injured limb, but since it was still actively dripping blood, your words didn’t carry much weight. Then the bounty hunter gingerly gripped your wrist with tentative fingers, and you hissed through your teeth as pain lanced up your arm.

“Osik,” Din cursed in a language you didn’t recognize, slowly rotating your arm to take in the extent of the damage. “Did one of those dogs get you? The bastard almost flayed you to the bone in some spots.”

“Yeah, well I shoved two grenades down his throat, so I think we’re even,” you gritted out.

Din froze and lifted his head, your blood, sweat, and dirt-streaked face reflecting back at you from his visor. “You what?” 

He must have really been on death’s door if he didn’t notice or remember you literally blowing the jungle dogs to Tatooine and back, but you just shook your head.

“Story time later,” you huffed, narrowing your eyes as you tried to breathe through the pain. “Bacta time now, please.”

“Right.” Mando jerked back into action, and in the next moment he was shifting into medic-droid mode.

Few words were shared between you two as the Mandalorian tended to your bumps and scrapes. Beside the deep lacerations on your forearm, your palms and knees were scraped bloody from tripping your way through a dangerous jungle in the dead of night. Your upper back was in the same condition since you’d been wearing a tank top when you decided to grapple with blood-thirsty hounds, and when Din accidentally brushed against your lower back, a small whimper squeezed out between your clenched teeth.

“This rib is probably broken,” the bounty hunter said, and there was a heavy quality to his quiet voice.

“Thought as much,” you grunted, trying to sit up straight without breathing too deeply. “Too bad we don’t have a full bacta tank to soak in.”

“I could always… drop you back off on Tatooine,” Mando muttered. “With the payment that I owe you, of course. Should be enough to pay for a full treatment and then some.”

You froze sitting there in the doorway of his bunk. The Mandalorian wasn’t looking at you, too busy double checking the bandage he’d wrapped over the bacta on your forearm, but you could see how rigid his body was as he awaited your answer.

“Do you… want to drop me back off on Tatooine?” you asked hesitantly, the breath shallow in your lungs. You could hear the child snoring softly in the hammock directly behind your head, and the thought of leaving him opened a dark pit inside you.

And that was nothing to say of the thought of leaving the Mandalorian. Of leaving… Din.

Now that you knew his name, the feelings you had done your best to ignore came surging up to the surface, that little voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

He told you his name. He trusts you. He wants you here. Maybe he wants you for more than just your skills.

You shoved the thoughts away as quickly as they cropped up, but that didn’t stop something small and fragile from unfurling in your chest. You almost wanted to call it hope.

“I—” Mando started, stopped, fidgeted on his crate, and then sighed as he scooted back a little to stretch out his injured leg. “No, I don’t want to do that. You’re a talented mechanic and… good company. I’ve… enjoyed having you on my crew.”

“Oh.” You blushed as the breath whooshed out of your lungs, leaving you feeling lightheaded and buoyant. “T-Thank you. Current circumstances notwithstanding, I’ve enjoyed being on your crew, too. A-And not just for the payment. Seeing new worlds, as dangerous as they are, was something I never thought I’d get to experience. So, even if the price to pay is a few bumps and scrapes, I think that’s a fair deal.”

“You have a skewed idea of ‘fair,’” the Mandalorian chuckled dryly as he reached down beside him, picked up a pair of his gloves, and slipped them back on.

“No kriff,” you snorted, the scar on the nape of your neck tingling. “But it works out in your favor, so I wouldn’t question it too much.”

“Fine.” Din held up his hands, but then he lowered them to his knees and cocked his head at you.

“What?” you asked when he didn’t say anything for a full minute. His gaze made your skin prickle even if you couldn’t see his eyes, and with each passing moment, you grew acutely more and more aware of how dirty and disheveled you looked and felt.

“Nothing,” he said, fingers flexing against his knees. “Just… thank you. Again. For saving me, the kid, the bounty, and the ship.” 

You fidgeted in discomfort. You didn’t know what to do with praise and compliments, having never really received them before, so you shrugged your shoulders as you picked at the bandage on your arm.

“I told you, we’re even,” you muttered.

“It doesn’t feel that way to me,” he argued, and something about his tone told you he wasn’t going to let this go. “So, how about this: after we drop off this bounty with the client, you can pick the next planet we stop on.”

“Really?” Your eyes flicked up to the bounty hunter and widened. He’d never let you pick a destination before. You’d always just been along for the ride.

Mando nodded. “And make a list of parts and stuff you need to keep the ship running. We’ll stock up wherever we stop off next.”

“Okay.” You grinned as your heart did a little jig in your chest, and you stuck out your bacta-wrapped hand to shake on it. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Din Djarin.”

His name rolled off your tongue like a grain of sand spiraling down a dune, picking up momentum as it went, and it sent a shiver of pleasure straight down your spine. You knew you were playing a losing game with your own heart here, but as you stared into Mando’s visor, you also knew there was no stopping yourself now. You would just have to deal with the future heartbreak.  

The Mandalorian tentatively reached out and grasped your fingers in his gloved ones.

“Deal,” he rumbled back.

“Good.” You nodded as a yawn cracked open your jaw, and you reached up to cover your gaping mouth and scratch your nose. “Now, given the client’s rendezvous coordinates, we should have a few days of rest before we reach our destination, and if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to start right now by taking a well-deserved nap.”

You made to stand up, but Din gently placed his hand on your shoulder to keep you seated on the edge of the bunk.

“Take the cot,” he said as he nodded behind you. “I’m going up to the cockpit to send a message to the client anyway.”

“Are you sure?” you murmured around another yawn.

“I’m sure,” he said, but then his gloved fingers were suddenly ghosting over the bridge of your nose. “By the way, you’ve got a little grease right here. Just thought you should know.”

You went cross-eyed as you tried to draw his finger into focus, but when he stepped back, you noticed the fingertips of his glove were shiny, and glancing down at the hand you used to shake his revealed that your palm bore the same black sheen.

“Hey, this is your grease,” you muttered indignantly, but then Din was pressing gently on your shoulder, guiding you to lay back on the cot, and you went willingly.

“Get some rest,” he said, turning off the bunk lights. “We’ll worry about cleaning up later.”

You tried to grumble something, but exhaustion was starting to tug at your limbs and eyelids, and your body unwound bit by bit as you buried your face in the bounty hunter’s pillow with no remorse.

A moment later, Mando’s boots were clomping up the ladder to the cockpit, but he left some of the cargo bay lights on and the door to the bunk open, like he somehow knew you were afraid of the dark.

The beginnings of a smile tugged at your lips, but you spiraled into sleep before you could fully process the thought.

[wangxianficrecs]

hi do you know this fic: a-yuan is mo xuanyu's son and he dropped him in front of wwx and lwj doorstep. wangxian are bestfriends and they live together. it's 90k+ and lwj keeps buying a-yuan whatever he needs and there's a scene where they raise chickens in theie backyard because wwx mentioned that he wanted one and lwj deadass ordered it in a drunken moment

Oh, this one is just about due up in my queue, but meanwhile, you can find my bookmark comments here.

so take my hand (take my whole life too)

by cicer

E, 92k, wangxian

Summary:  When the doorbell rings, Wei Ying lunges for it and triumphantly throws open the front door. He looks down, expecting to see a package. But there's no package on the front stoop. Instead, there's a baby.

A real actual live baby, nestled within a car seat. It blinks at Wei Ying, and he blinks back.

Then he opens his mouth and screams.

(In which A-Yuan is dumped off on Wei Ying's doorstep. He and Lan Zhan raise the baby while falling in love.

...Yeah, it's one of THOSE stories.)

[ETA:  Oh, this is next up in the queue, actually, so you’ll see the offiicial rec in less than 4 hours!]

[hils79]

Monday Fic Recs

Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji (The Untamed/Mo Dao Zu Shi)

so take my hand (take my whole life too) by cicer

When the doorbell rings, Wei Ying lunges for it and triumphantly throws open the front door. He looks down, expecting to see a package. But there's no package on the front stoop. Instead, there's a baby.

A real actual live baby, nestled within a car seat. It blinks at Wei Ying, and he blinks back.

Then he opens his mouth and screams.

(In which A-Yuan is dumped off on Wei Ying's doorstep. He and Lan Zhan raise the baby while falling in love.

...Yeah, it's one of THOSE stories.)

This is so incredibly sweet and full of feelings. I was in a glass case of emotions the entire time I was reading it

Zhao Yunlan/Shen Wei (Guardian)

when the light goes out by janonny

“Shen Wei…” the lantern says, and for a moment, his tone sounds fond, almost longing. Then the lantern continues in a jovial tone, “That is a good name.”

For some reason, Shen Wei starts at that, feels an odd jolt of deja vu.

Shen Wei stumbles across a lantern in the library that is always lit, sitting wholly out of place next to a window that allows in neverending Dixing light.

I love reading all the different ideas of how to fix the ending of the show. This one is so interesting and wonderfully written.

[isitgintimeyet]

Letting Go - A Christmas Ficlet

Letting Go Masterlist

AO3

So here’s an update on the Letting Go story. Whilst I suppose it can be read as a stand alone story, it does fit after the end of the epilogue in ‘Letting Go’. I never intended this story to go into a second arc, but i guess it’s nice to drop in every now and then to see how they’re doing.

Now that Jamie and Claire are together and have moved to Lallybroch, this is the story of their first Christmas there with the extended family.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge, @wickedgoodbooks, @happytoobserve for their support and advice with this story. I hope you enjoy and that you all have a wonderful holiday time.

All I want for Christmas is...

I don't want a lot for Christmas

There is just one thing I need

I don't care about the presents

Underneath the Christmas tree

Mariah Carey/ Walter Afanasieff

One year ago

“It’s been such a lovely day, Jamie but I feel guilty now, just sitting here watching the fire. Are you sure we shouldn’t be doing something? Helping someone?”

“Och no. Jocasta’s fine, supervising Da and Murtagh washing up. Jenny and Ian have their own routine putting the bairns tae bed and yer uncle seems content studying those old maps he found.”

“Ok, you win. We’ll stay here just a little bit longer. What’s that under the tree?...  Are you sure everyone opened their presents this morning?”

“I dinna ken, Sassenach. What does the tag say?”

“It says ‘Sassenach.’ Don’t try and look innocent, Jamie. What have you done?”

“Well ye’d best open it and find out, then.”

“Oh. Oh, Jamie, it’s beautiful…”

“I’ve never loved anyone but ye. I never want tae be apart from ye ever again. This is it... us fer ever. Sae, Sassenach, I ask ye, will ye marry me?”

“Jamie, yes, of course I will. I love you too.”

**************

“Sassenach, what do ye want fer Christmas?”

Claire rested her head against the back of the sofa and sighed. Not a deep sigh, her lack of lung capacity at present prevented that. She shifted uncomfortably, trying unsuccessfully to encourage an awkwardly positioned foot to move.

“What do I want for Christmas?” The frustration was clear in her voice. “What do I want for Christmas? Oh, just a few things. I want to be able to paint my toenails, or at least actually see my feet. I want to sleep through the night without having to pee at least three times. I want to drink a cup of coffee, full of caffeine, without the smell making me heave. Oh, and most of all, I want evolution to rethink the whole childbirth scenario. Why does the baby have to come out the way it went in?”

Jamie chuckled. Claire glared at him. He stopped abruptly.

“I mean it, pregnancy needs a whole rethink. I can’t walk properly, I can’t sleep properly. I can’t get out of the bath unaided. I feel like a beached whale. My bras are like industrial scaffolding. Every midwife takes one look at you and then tells me what an ‘awfa bonnie’ size my baby is going to be. Quick translation, I’m going to give birth to an enormous baby. God knows how I’ll manage that. And you men, you just keep getting congratulated on the fine job you’ve done with the impregnation, which was no hardship on your part in the first place and, I might add, purely incidental.”

She sniffed, fighting the overwhelming urge to cry… again. “And I’m a complete hormonal, irrational mess. Every time any of the Christmas adverts come on, that’s me… in floods.”

Jamie kissed her cheek before lifting her feet into his lap and starting to rub them. “Ye’re allowed to be irrational and hormonal. Ye’re carrying our baby around.”

He placed his hand on her stomach, relishing the feel of the little elbow -- or heel -- pushing hard against his palm.

“Our very active baby,” he continued. “And I’m sorry that she may be a fair size. I ken that’s ma fault. But every time I see ye, getting bigger and tae feel her moving around, weel, ma heart feels fit tae burst with love fer ye and fer the wee, or no’ sae wee, bairn.”

Claire burst into tears.

“Jamie,” she cried between noisy sobs. “That was so lovely. Can you get me a tissue, please? And maybe a chocolate biscuit?”

*************

Claire and Jenny sat together at the kitchen table, enjoying the temporary peace and quiet. The occasional muted giggle or yell of excitement floated in from the living room where Jamie and Ian, with help from Wee Jamie, Maggie and Kitty, were busy decorating the large Christmas tree.

“Are ye no’ worried about the aesthetic quality of the decoration?” Jenny asked with a smile.

Claire took another Hobnob from the packet in front of her. “Not really, no. I don’t think I could stand for long enough to do the decoration myself, so anything that lot do will be fine for me.”

“Are ye sure ye’re up tae having us all here fer Christmas? I mean, ye’re, weel…”

“Fit to burst?” Claire rubbed her bump affectionately. “I’ll be fine. Midwife says the head’s not even engaged yet, so I don’t think he’ll be putting in an early appearance. And there’ll be so much help around here. Murtagh and Jocasta are driving up on Christmas Eve with Uncle Lamb. She’s bringing all the veg, she says. And Brian and you all will be here Christmas Day of course. I won’t have to move a muscle. And now my mat leave has started, I’m a real lady of leisure.”

Jenny snorted. “That’ll change, just ye wait.”

Right on cue, the kitchen door burst open and three giggling children rushed in, closely followed by Jamie and Ian both bedecked with tinsel and glitter.

“We done the tree.”

“We done Da and Unca”

“Dey all pwetty.”

Jamie swept Kitty up in his arms before moving to Claire’s side and stooping to plant a kiss on her curls.

“Baby.” Kitty announced, pointing excitedly at Claire’s belly.

“Aye, baby.” Jamie agreed.

“Cheesus.”

“Nah, Kitty,” Jenny laughed. “That’s no’ baby Jesus in there.”

“Cheesus,” she repeated.

“Alright, jes’ like baby Jesus. And now, c’mon ye rabble, I think it’s time we went home. Bath and bed fer the lot of ye... and fer Da too by the look of him.”

************

Claire shuffled awkwardly onto her side, bringing one of her pillows down under her belly and leant on her elbow. She kicked one leg out from under the bedclothes, relishing the fresh air cool on her permanently overheated body.

The bedroom curtains had not been fully drawn and the full moon cast an eerie mix of light and shadow around the room. As usual Jamie was asleep on his back, fingers interlaced across his chest. Claire studied his face, blanched white with the moonlight, the fine lines around his eyes smoothed with sleep, his mouth relaxed into a small lopsided smile.

The remembrance of eight years without this face beside her and all the what-ifs littering the path to their reunion made her shudder instinctively. Carefully, she reached out to touch his face, as if to reassure herself he was truly there. Her fingertips brushed the growth of ginger stubble on his chin before she ran one finger lightly around his lips.

Still asleep, he scrunched his nose as if to sneeze, then his face relaxed once more in repose.

Now sufficiently cooled, Claire returned her leg back under the covers, positioning it against Jamie’s calf.

“What? What’s matter? Is it the baby?” Startled by the unexpected cold next to his skin, Jamie immediately awoke in a state of agitation. “Are you ok? What’s wrong?”

“Shh, shh,” Claire soothed. “Everything’s fine. It’s not the baby. I didn’t mean to wake you. I couldn’t sleep... I was too hot, but now my feet are cold.”

She rubbed her foot against his calf.

Jamie flinched. “Christ, woman, yer foot is like ice. I dinna understand how the rest of ye is like a furnace, but yer feet are freezing.”

She pressed her feet more firmly against his leg, ignoring his protests. “Just more of the joys of pregnancy, I guess. I would wear bedsocks, but then I’d get too hot and it’s just too much of an effort to actually get them on.”

Jamie closed his eyes. Now he knew there was no cause for alarm, he was eager to return to sleep. He tried to relax and clear his mind, forcing his breathing to a steady pace. But…

“Are ye watching me?” Even without opening his eyes, he could sense Claire’s gaze on him.

“I’m sorry. Had you gone back to sleep?”

Jamie opened his eyes and rolled onto his side to face Claire. “Not anymore. What’s the matter?”

“I can’t get to sleep. I can’t get comfortable.” She shuffled around a bit as if to prove her point.

“Och, Sassenach, I’m sorry but it’s no’ fer much longer, ye ken, and —“

“I know, I know, you’re going to say ‘it’ll be worth it.’ And you’re right, it will. But right now, all I want is an unbroken night’s sleep, which, I think, I’m not going to get for, ooh, another five years.” Claire’s voice cracked a little.

“And I keep thinking—“

“Never a good idea, Sassenach.”

“I keep thinking…” she pressed on. “...about us. What if Jocasta and Murtagh hadn’t rented Lamb’s house, what if I hadn’t bought the flat above John, what if you…”

“Shhh.” Jamie stroked Claire’s cheek, now damp from tears. “Dinna upset yerself. Life is a series of what-ifs and that’s a fact. But we’re here now, together, the soon-tae-be three of us and that’s all that matters. And I ken we were meant tae be together. Call it fate, call it karma, we would have found a way tae each other with or without Jocasta or John.”

He kissed her mouth before yawning and rolling onto his back. “Now, go back tae sleep. We’ve a busy day tomorrow.”

“Jamie, I love you.”

“I love ye too.”

Claire groaned. “And now Dalhousie is awake and I’ve got to pee… again.”

********************

Claire wandered around the house, (or more appropriately ‘waddled,’ in her opinion) from room to room, checking everything was in order for the guests. Jocasta and Murtagh as well as Uncle Lamb would be staying; Brian, Jenny and family would visit just for Christmas Day.

She truly loved Lallybroch, and somehow she felt that the house knew it and loved her too. The creaks and rattles as the old building shifted and settled were a comfort -- Lallybroch welcoming her as she went about her business. She still found it hard to believe that Brian had been willing, no, more than willing, happy and relieved to pass the ownership of Lallybroch to Jamie. He now resided in a single storey cottage one mile away.

The guest bedrooms needed no attention. They were ready for the arrivals, even down to the tins of shortbread on the bedside tables, should the mass of Christmas food resting in the fridges and freezers prove to be insufficient. Claire opened a tin and removed a large piece, holding a cupped palm beneath it to avoid crumbs as she munched.

The nursery door was slightly open. Claire smiled. Jamie had obviously snuck in for a moment’s reverie before heading to the stables that morning. She perched on the edge of the rocking chair and looked around.

The decoration in this room had only been finished the week before and Claire visited several times a day, still not quite believing how it would soon be occupied. The cot, the changing station, chest of drawers and wardrobe were all now in place, a few simple babygros and cardigans in neutral colours put away inside. She was convinced the baby was a boy, Jamie equally convinced about a girl.

Bracing her arms against the chair, she pushed herself to her feet once more. As she passed the cot, she lightly tapped the mobile suspended above and stood for a moment, watching the brightly coloured animals slowly rotate before continuing her inspection of the house.

Downstairs, everything was ready for Christmas. Claire noticed Jamie had moved her hospital bag and the car seat to a prominent position by the front door. In case of a quick get away, she supposed.

The scent of pine hit her nostrils as soon as she entered the living room. Fortunately not one of the myriad of aromas that made her nauseous. The enormous Christmas tree dominated the room, extravagantly (and somewhat lopsidedly) decorated with tinsel, baubles and other glittery objects. Claire spotted two sequinned hair clips and a lilac ‘My Little Pony’ nestling in the branches near the base of the tree. It certainly wouldn’t win any design awards, but, in her eyes, it was perfect.

She wandered into the kitchen, unsure what to do with herself. Ever since she awoke, there had been a feeling of restlessness in her limbs, an air of unsettledness over her - presumably due to the anxiety of hosting her first Christmas here at Lallybroch. She knew it would pass as soon as all their guests arrived and Christmas started properly.

Jocasta’s head suddenly appeared around the back door.

“Hello, the house.” She came into the kitchen, laden down with bags and boxes. “I thought I’d come in this way, ma dear… jes’ tae drop all the food off.”

Jocasta huffed as she deposited the boxes and bags on to the kitchen table. She enveloped Claire in a warm hug before holding her at arms’ length to study her from top to toe.

“Sae, Claire, how are ye doin’? Ye’re blooming nicely.”

Claire laughed. “Which is a polite way of saying I’m huge. No, don’t worry, I’m not offended. I’m blaming those damn Fraser genes… Jamie’s a Viking throwback.”

“Och, the baby’s sure tae be bonnie, nae doubt.” Jocasta took off her coat and rolled her sleeves up. “Sae what do ye want me tae do? I left Murtagh and yer uncle tae unload the bags and take them upstairs.”

“Oh, no nothing needs doing at the moment. Jamie can take the bags upstairs when he’s back from the stables. Let’s make some tea and relax. I’m defrosting a beef casserole for dinner. Nice and simple.”

Claire reached into a cupboard for the teabags. She winced slightly as she stretched, then straightened up, rubbing her belly. Jocasta immediately rushed to her side and guided her to a chair.

“What’s the matter, Claire? Is it the bairn?”

“No, Jocasta, I’m fine. It’s just Braxton Hicks contractions. I’ve been getting them for a few weeks now. That one was a bit sharp, but nothing to worry about.”

“I bet Jamie is on tenterhooks, is he no’?”

“Well, I do have to carry my phone with me at all times, just in case. And he’s all prepared ready for the hospital… including a variety of biscuits and crisps to keep his strength up during the labour. I tell you, Jocasta, if he thinks he’s going to be eating while I’m in pain he’s sorely mistaken.”

Jocasta patted Claire’s hand. “Ye dinna have tae worry about Jamie. He’ll do whatever ye ask, ye ken.”

*******************

Present day, Christmas Eve 9:10pm

“Jamie, I’m in the kitchen. Either the dishwasher has sprung a major leak or my waters have broken.”

“Don’t tell anyone yet but come h”

****************

Claire didn’t have time to finish the second text as Jamie burst into the kitchen, breathing heavily as if he’d run a marathon, rather than just strode across the hall.

“Sassenach,” he breathed. “Are ye in pain? What happened? What do we do?”

Claire smiled. “First you need to calm down. We can’t have you hyperventilating. Then I’m going to ring the delivery suite while you clean up the floor. Then presumably we head to the hospital.”

“Sae ye’re in labour then? Have ye been getting any pains?”

“Well, I don’t know… I’ve had some twinges today, but I thought they were just Braxton Hicks again. Then I come in here for a mince pie and suddenly whoosh.”

Claire waggled her hands expressively, mimicking the sudden release of fluid.

“Sassenach, ye’re a doctor and ye’re telling me ye dinna ken whether ye’re in labour or no’.”

“Jamie, I’m a cardiologist. Totally different bits of anatomy. Now grab that cloth, while I make the call.”

Jamie knelt down and tried to focus on his assigned task, while Claire made the phone call. He was amazed at how calm she appeared to be. Still, he was thankful one of them actually seemed to know what to do… and very relieved that he had only had the one whisky a few hours earlier, intending to save the more serious drinking for Christmas Day itself.

He listened as Claire explained the situation over the phone, clearly and succinctly, one medical professional to another. Eventually, after what seemed like an age to Jamie, Claire ended the call with “We’re on our way,” and turned to Jamie.

Her calm demeanour now slipped and her face, to him, looked as terrified as he felt. Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke. “Midwife reckons it’s definitely early stages of labour… probably been going on all day…”

“No’ Braxton Hicks then?”

Claire shook her head. “Apparently not. So, hospital it is.”

Jamie got to his feet and quickly rinsed his hands. He pulled Claire close to him, very conscious of the large, hard, bump between them. He ran one hand over the contours of her belly.

“I canna believe it’s happening. This is it, Sassenach. The last time it’s just the two of us. Are ye ready?”

He felt Claire’s head, nestled on his chest, nod in agreement. She pulled away and sniffed.

“Oh god, here come the waterworks again,” she whispered.

Gently, Jamie wiped the tears away with his thumb as the door opened and Jocasta stood there, a variety of dirty glasses in her hands.

“What is it?” She looked from one to the other. “Is it the bairn? I kent that was no’ jes’ a twinge today.”

“Aye, we’ve tae go tae the hospital now.”

“But what about Christmas lunch?” Claire felt the tears prickle her eyes once more. “I was going to do a lovely lunch for all of you.”

“Dinna fash,” Jocasta quickly took charge of the situation. “Ye canna be worrying about that at a time like this. We dinna have tae change any plans. I can do the cooking, it’s nae bother. It’ll be jes’ as if ye did it , except ye two willna be here.”

“Come on then,” Jamie was itching to get moving now. “We can ring Jenny and Da from the hospital.”

He took Claire’s hand and led her towards the hall.

“Oh and, Jocasta,” he called over his shoulder. “Make sure ye save us some dinner. I’ll be fair famished by the time we get back.”

*******************

Nine years ago

“Sassenach, do ye ever think about bairns?”

“Bairns? You mean children, plural? That’s some sort of forward planning there, Jamie.”

“But do ye?”

“Mmm, sometimes I suppose, yes. Why?”

“I jes’ ken we’ll have a family together. Do ye think about names?”

“Yes, Henry and Julia… after my parents. What about you?”

“Same idea… Ellen after my Mam and William, ma brother who died. Sae we could have Julia Ellen and Henry William.”

“Not Julia Ellen Fraser. That’d be ‘Jef.’ Ellen Julia has a nice ring to it.”

“Aye, Ellen Julia and Henry William it is then.”

***************

Claire glanced up at the clock again. Everyone is so keen to tell you about the pain of childbirth, she thought. No one actually tells you about the sheer boredom. She’d walked up and down a bit, bounced on the big ball and now was trying to get comfortable on the bed.

A rustling sound came from Jamie’s general vicinity. Claire turned to see him rifling through the hospital bag, pulling out her toiletries bag, maternity pads, nursing bra.

“What are you looking for?” she asked, more than a bit irritated.

“I thought I’d put a couple of Crunchies in here. Jes’ fancy one.”

He stopped as she glared at him and quickly tidied everything back into the bag.

Suddenly she closed her eyes and bit her lip, her fists tightly clenching the hem of her nightgown. Jamie quickly started the timer on his phone. Gradually, Claire’s fists relaxed and she opened her eyes, panting slightly.

Jamie jotted some figures down in a notebook. “Getting closer together now, aren’t they?”

Claire nodded. “Mmm.”

“Sae, based on a scale of one tae ten, how intense was that one?” His pen was poised ready to make a note.

“How the hell do I know? I don’t know what ten feels like, so it’s all subjective at the moment,” she snapped.

“Just put down it smarts a bit,” she added sarcastically.

“I need the loo. Back in a moment.” Jamie almost bumped into the midwife, Morag, as she came into the delivery room.

“So, dear, can I jes’ check on ye?” Morag asked as she took Claire’s pulse before putting  on her gloves for a further examination.

“Jamie’s made the notes you asked for. Time, duration, intensity.”

“Ah, weel,” Morag straightened up and removed the gloves. “We dinna actually need that. But yer man was sae keen tae be involved, tae feel useful, we set him a wee task tae keep him busy.”

Jamie came back into the room.

“Good job on the notes, Jamie,” Morag complimented him. “Sae Claire, ye’re progressing nicely, six centimetres dilated now—”

She paused as Claire screwed up her face. A small moan passed her lips.

“That's it, Claire. Breathe through it. Every contraction is one closer tae meeting yer baby.”

Jamie moved to Claire’s side and took her hand, wincing slightly as her nails dug into his palm.

As Claire’s breathing returned to normal, Morag made for the door.

“I’ll be back tae check on ye shortly.”

***************

Claire slumped back onto the pillows, grateful for a moment’s reprieve. Sweat plastered her curls to her forehead and she could feel the dampness of her nightgown against her back. She savoured the coolness of the damp cloth which Jamie pressed against her forehead.

“Sassenach,” he whispered. “Ye’re doing grand. I am sae proud of ye.”

She smiled weakly. “How much more, Jamie?”

Morag spoke reassuringly. “Ok, Claire, another one’s on its way. Just keep pushing, as hard as ye can. Focus all yer energy on that push.”

As the contraction hit again, it seemed, to Jamie, that Claire went deep inside herself, gathering every hidden reserve of strength. She made no sound, no unnecessary movements, conserving all her energy for the push. Resting her chin against her chest, she gritted her teeth and pushed.

“Daddy… come here. Ye can see the head crowning.”

Jamie momentarily left Claire’s side for his first glimpse of their baby. Returning to her side, he bent down, his head next to hers.

“Our baby, Sassenach. Ye can see our baby.”

He made no effort to stop his tears flowing as Claire bore down for the final onslaught until, at 5:17 on Christmas morning, Ellen Julia Fraser took her first breath as she was delivered onto her mother’s chest.

*************

With all the checks and cleaning up complete, the new family were left alone for the first time. Jamie slipped off his shirt and sat next to Claire on the bed. Tenderly he took his daughter from Claire’s arms and held her close to his chest, next to his heart. Blue eyes stared solemnly up at him.

“Jes’ when I think I canna love ye more, ye give me a daughter… our wee daughter.” He grabbed the baby’s hand now flailing outside the pink blanket, marvelling at the size, so tiny, and yet so perfect, against his palm.

“And she got’s red hair too.” Claire kissed the top of the baby's head.

“But not so wee.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Three weeks early and still nine pounds eleven. Every muscle in my body aches. I feel like I’ve run a marathon.”

“Ye were truly amazing, Sassenach. I canna believe what ye went through.”

Claire laughed. “Neither can I. Not sure I’m ever going to let you near me again, James Fraser.”

Jamie looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“Well, ok, you know I don’t mean it.”

The baby started fidgeting, rooting for a nipple, emitting little squawks of dissatisfaction at the lack of sustenance provided by her father.

Jamie passed the precious bundle back to Claire and watched, with pride, as his daughter quickly found what she wanted and settled down, sucking ferociously.

Jamie and Claire sat quietly for a moment, studying every detail of their baby before Claire broke the silence.

“A Christmas Day baby, then. Kitty was right. You know when you asked me a couple of weeks ago what I wanted for Christmas. Well this is it, right here.”

Tears filled her eyes as she gazed at her baby. “All I want for Christmas is you, Ellen Julia Fraser.”

She looked at Jamie, his eyes glistening too, and stroked his cheek. “... and you, James Fraser. Merry Christmas.”

[hb-writes]

Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.

Inspired by my 100+ lovely followers, @love-me-a-good-prompt’s “THANK YOU IDEAS” prompt list, and some feedback about Michael reminding me that I definitely need to practice with him a bit more.

Summary: A Peaky Blinder story from the Little Lady Blinder Universe. Michael helps his little cousin out when she gets caught trying to sneak out of her sister’s London house. Set in 1924 at some point following Grace’s death but before Tommy ruins everyone’s lives by getting half the family locked up. 

Featuring: Ada Shelby, Michael Gray, Clara Shelby (Shelby!Sister)

-----

“Where are you going?” 

Clara stopped just past the doorway, swearing softly to herself before retreating a few steps to reemerge in the light of Ada’s sitting room.

“Oh, Ada, hi,” Clara said, offering her older sister a smile. 

Clara had been certain Ada was asleep. They’d all retired to their own rooms following the early meal. After the busy day occupying Karl, they were all ready for sleep. That’s what they’d all said, at least, even Michael. 

“Oh, Ada, hi?” Ada asked. She set down the book she was reading and stood up from the chair, wrapping the robe around her a bit tighter. Despite the raging fire, it was freezing in the house.

“I just thought you were asleep is all.” 

Ada nodded, eyebrow raised, her head tilted to a slight incline. “And where were you planning on going? Assuming I was asleep, I mean.” 

“Just—” Clara started, turning towards the hallway when she heard her cousin calling out from the third step, all dressed up in his coat and hat. 

“Are you ready, Clara?” 

She turned towards him, eyebrow raised, and Michael winked at her as he came to stand next to her in the doorway. 

“Don’t want to be late.” 

“Late for what?” Ada asked.

“Oh, we were planning to go out for a bit,” Michael answered.

“Out where?” Ada said. “Get in here, both of you.”

It was still early, only a few minutes past seven. Clara hesitated, pulling her coat tighter but Michael placed a hand on her shoulder and led her into the room.

“Just to visit with Charlotte and Isobel,” he said, speaking of the girl he was courting with some type of regularity despite the fact that she was engaged to another and her cousin. “They invited me and I thought Clara might like to see them.”

Ada sighed, pursing her lips and shaking her head as she sat back down. Tommy had been quite explicit in his orders that she keep Clara close. He’d not permitted her out of his own care in quite some time, not since Grace’s death at least. “Tom—”

“Please, Ada? Tommy doesn’t need to know. Don’t you remember what it’s like to be young? We just want a simple night out with friends.” 

Ada sipped her tea as she watched her sister and cousin. “When I was your age, a ‘simple night out with friends’ meant I was sneaking off to see a boy.” 

“Well, as you can see I have a chaperone and he’s nearly as bad as our brothers so I can’t imagine I’ll have any proper fun anyhow,” Clara answered.

In her mind though, Michael was quite a few steps behind Tommy, Arthur, and John in regards to the careless fun he’d permit her. He had, after all, inserted himself into this situation and claimed they had plans in order to get her out of a mess he had no need to clean up, but he was still no Finn, the only Shelby Clara could act a bit foolish with, a bit spontaneous with, without fear of being stopped. 

“It’s just dinner, Ada. I’m taking her to dinner with two friends you’ve met. And I’ll keep an eye on her. I promise.”  

Ada took a deep breath. “There are men outside.” 

“And they won’t have a problem with me accompanying my cousin to dinner.” 

Ada nearly agreed with him. They wouldn’t think anything of Michael and Clara going out together. “If there’s any trouble, it’ll be on the two of you. I’ll not cover for you with Tommy, won’t even say I permitted it.”

Clara smiled, coming forward to kiss Ada on the cheek. “Thank you!”

“Do you want to come with us?” Michael asked and Clara shot him a look. 

“She’s already in pajamas,” Clara answered. “And… and we’re already running late.” 

“Thank you, Michael, but I can tell when I’m not wanted. Best to let you kids have your fun.” Ada fell back down into the chair. “I don’t know when I became this old maid, ready for sleep this early while the baby goes out on the town.”

“When you became a mother, Ada,” Clara answered. “Motherhood is terribly boring.”

“And you’d do well to remember that,” she answered. “Both of you. Children are lovely but you blink and you’re passing your evenings with tea and bedtime stories by this ungodly early hour and…”

“Alright, Ada. We’ll be home by…” Michael glanced to Clara. 

“Half-past—” Clara began

“Ten,” Ada answered. 

“I was going to say eleven.” 

“We can make it nine.” 

“Half-past ten is fine,” Michael answered, wrapping Clara’s arm in his and steering her from the sitting room. 

“If you’re not home, I’m locking the doors.”

“As you should. Goodnight, Ada,” Michael answered before closing the front door behind them.

Clara stopped on the sidewalk outside of Ada’s front stoop and tried to pull her arm loose from her cousin, opening her mouth to speak only to be silenced by him.

“Best to keep walking a bit,” he said as towed her along down the sidewalk, conscious of the officers across the street. “You can ask your questions and voice your protests later.”

Clara huffed but fell into stride beside her cousin, the click of her heel against the pavement the only sound between them as they walked. Michael kept his eyes straight ahead, steering them into the first restaurant they came across. 

“We’re actually going for dinner?” Clara frowned. She’d rather just go back to Ada’s if the evening was to be wasted adhering to the plan they’d fed Ada.

“Just keeping up appearances, cousin,” he said. “Come on.”

She stepped in the door Michael held open for her and they got settled at a table near the back, the two of them ignoring the dinner menus and Michael ordering them a pair of whiskeys instead. Clara sipped from hers straight away when it came and Michael watched her, lighting his cigarette. 

“So, what is it you have planned for tonight, Clara?”

Michael inhaled from the cigarette, letting the smoke he released pull up through his nose. 

Clara rolled her eyes. “Why do you do that?”

“Why? You want to learn?” he asked. 

“I don’t even smoke,” Clara answered. 

“Nah, I’ve seen you sometimes.”

“A handful of times when drunk, maybe. You lot act like you can’t go a day without.”

“That’s because I can’t go a day without.” 

“It’s not like it’s attractive, just pretentious you smoking like that.”

“Isn’t it though? Attractive, I mean?” he said, flicking off a bit of ash. “Charlotte likes it. Most girls do.” 

Michael did the maneuver again, smirking at his cousin before she downed the rest of her drink. 

“Do you really have plans with Charlotte and Isobel?”

“No,” he answered. “But it seemed like you needed some help getting out of the house.” 

Clara sighed. “Well, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” 

“What I don’t know is why you needed help getting out of the house.”

Clara glanced down at her watch. If she was to be on time to meet her friend, she’d have to be on her way soon. “You won’t tell?”

Michael considered it, swirling the whiskey in his glass now that he took a break from his cigarette. “That depends.”

“Depends on what?” she asked.

“On how careless you’re being,” he answered. “And on which of Tommy’s rules we’re breaking.” 

As she dug in her pocket for the flyer she’d held onto for nearly a month now advertising the club’s 8 pm show, Clara decided to tell Michael half of the truth, the half he’d permit, leaving out the plans of who she was meeting because she already knew the family’s stance on that piece.

“I just need a night out,” she said, pushing the folded up piece of paper across the table. “Please, Mickey? I haven’t heard live music in months and I’ll be back by half-past ten like we agreed and—”

Michael finished his drink and stood up, dropping a few notes on the table. “Shall we, then?”

“We?” Clara asked.

“I promised Ada I’d look after you.” Michael asked as he pulled on his coat. “Is that a problem?”

Clara shook her head, slipping her arms into the coat Michael held out for her and wondering how likely it was that he’d believe the coincidence of running into a friend so far from Birmingham. 

“Maybe we should invite Charlotte and Isobel after all. It would be nice to see them,” Clara mused, preferring the idea of her cousin being at least a bit distracted by his latest infatuation. “You said we should keep up appearances, right?” 

"Right,” he answered. “Maybe we can call them from the club.” 

Clara wrapped her arm in Michael’s as they stepped towards the door. “Lovely. It’ll be a treat to see a few people we’re not related to for a change.” 

“What do you mean? You see Mary every day, don’t you?” Michael answered, smirking at her. 

Clara glared up at her cousin. “That dreadful maid doesn’t count, Michael. I swear that bloody woman is out to get me.” 

“She’s loyal to her employer is all,” Michael answered.

“She’s a snitch.” 

“Tommy pays her to be.” 

“He pays her to clean and look after the baby.”

“Exactly,” Michael answered. “And she is. Looking after the baby, I mean.”

Clara groaned. She longed for the day they accepted that she no longer required constant looking after, not from her family or the staff or her friends, but having the pragmatic mind she did and armed with the knowledge that Tommy still had men watch their sister’s house despite Ada being a proper adult, Clara knew there was little sense in hoping after such things.

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