#they have this system where they take turns dragging the other to bed instead of sleeping on a lab table

[sboochi]

They're late for a presentation

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 14: Sickfic

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Sickfic (🌼)

Summary: Matt doesn't like admitting when he's sick, but his behavior says more than a thousand words.

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of vomiting, sickfic (the flu, to be more precise), Matt being a mess, established relationship, mentions of nudity (nothing sexual, but Matt's Devil is on display)

Word Count: 1.1k

A/n: I always wonder what it would be like for Matt when he gets sick because my senses are out of whack when I'm sick, so he must be in hell, right?

Read Me On AO3!

Matt Murdock doesn’t get sick.

At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself. 

His immune system is strong, and people with a strong immune system don’t get sick. Except, his logic is incredibly flawed, and when he does get sick, he refuses to admit it until he’s quite literally on the brink of death. You’ve learned this the hard way over the years; he turns into a feverish, disoriented, ridiculous man-child whenever he’s down with something.

The door falls shut behind you, a bag from the local pharmacy in one hand and chicken broth take-out in the other. Matt managed to catch himself the flu—again. You told him that is what he gets for going out in the dead of night, but he never learns.

“Honey, I’m home!” you sing. 

Though instead of finding your boyfriend wrapped in a burrito of blankets in bed, where he should be, he’s standing in the middle of the living room, trying to wrestle the Daredevil suit over his clammy skin. So far, he has only managed to get half of it on, and—oh no, why—his pants are on the floor. No pants, and yes, no underwear. 

From the looks of it, he is as hot as he is cold.

“Uh,” you frown, “hello? What the hell are you doing out of bed?”

“I have to–” Matt tries to catch his breath, failing to find the opening in the fabric. “The city. The city needs me.”

He’s so congested you would have laughed at him any other day, but not today. 

“Nuh-uh. Your bed needs you,” you retort. “And for God’s sake, Matt, put your pants back on!”

He tugs on the suit again, but it’s like watching a toddler trying to put on a pair of socks. He’s too weak, too sweaty, and too feverish to even know which way is up.

“I don’t… need pants,” Matt argues.

“Yes, you do.” You put the bags down by the coffee table and grab his boxers off the floor. “Normally, I don’t mind seeing you naked, but you’re sick, and sick people need pants.”

He frowns at you, head tilting in your direction. “No… Is someone knocking?” 

You pause, trying not to laugh. “That’s my heartbeat.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

His hand drifts up toward your chest on autopilot, and the moment his fingers brush against the swell of your breast, you stop him. “That’s my boob,” you say.

God, he’s exhausting. If you didn’t love him so much you would turn around and run. The last time he tore off all his clothes, he ended up on the roof while it was snowing, trying to cool off. It sounded as though he was holding a seance, and you swore you would never make the mistake of leaving the rooftop access open again, not when he’s sick and doesn’t know what he’s doing. His senses get cloudy, and he starts to hallucinate. 

Fun times.

Matt’s hand stays there for a moment. “Soft,” he murmurs.

The groping stage is new, but you find it more endearing than anything. You take his hand away. “Remember what I said?”

“No?”

“Underwear,” you tell him, lips curling into a smile, “Then straight to bed.”

He retreats like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“Alright, come on. You’re dizzy.” You start to guide him toward the bedroom. Maybe you can finally convince him to get some rest. 

“No, I’m not—” Matt takes one wobbly step and immediately starts to tip forward, legs giving out underneath him.

You catch him just in time, which is a feat because he is heavy, keeping him from face-planting into the coffee table. “Yep. Definitely dizzy,” you say.

He groans. Happens every time. “I don’t get sick,” he insists.

You drag him over to the bed. “You sure about that?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Sure.” You lower him down on the mattress, and for the first time today, he lets you. “Let me just get you your medicine, okay?”

“No!” he whines. 

“Yes.”

He makes a face like a petulant child. “Tastes bad.”

You sigh. “Do I need to wrap it in peanut butter for you?”

He doesn’t answer, just grumbles something unintelligible. You grab the bag from the living room and the jar of peanut butter from the kitchen. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” you scoop up a spoonful of peanut butter, “I have a dog.”

But it’s the only way he will take the cough syrup. It’s the only way he will swallow the bitter taste of the ibuprofen. And it is the only way Matt will even eat something when he’s sick. “Eat this,” you say, “and I’ll let you go back to sleep.”

Matt, still half-delirious, opens his mouth obediently, taking the spoon into his mouth. “It’s not even… that good,” he says.

Liar. You chuckle. “Lie back, c’mon.”

The bed creaks under your weight as you climb in beside him, pulling the covers up and over him. He hesitates, torn between telling you for the hundredth time that he is not sick, and he never gets sick, and just melting into your embrace like a candle on its last bit of wax. His body aches, his cheeks are burning, and he can barely breathe without breaking into a fit of toe-curling coughs. He’s miserable, and he has to admit it. He has to admit it so he can rest—so you can get your boyfriend back.

He loves you to death. 

You brush your fingers through his messy hair. “Come here,” you say.

Matt presses his face against your chest. “I hate being sick,” he says.

It is the most honest he has been all day.

“I know.” You press a kiss to the top of his head. “You’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

“Don’t wanna get you sick.”

“Shh,” you shush him. “Just rest, baby. I’ve got you.”

He clings to you, his breathing finally starting to even out. He snores, and he wheezes, but he falls asleep, finally, still holding onto you like his life depends on it, and you are right where you need to be.

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @ravenclaw617 @lucienofthelakes @steve-chandler

[shalomniscient]

Soo..are we allowed to get thirsty on main?

How would freaky times be like with our wonderful bird lady? I love her so much i want to pound her into the bed and hand feed her grapes afterwards

[nsft utc]

with sara it's just going to be a continuous series of firsts. she's probably used to kissing you by the point you both fall into bed together, but as soon as you start hungrily tugging at her clothes she freezes up. now comes the part where you slowly guide her ("you can take it off, sara, it's okay"), bringing her hands to the hem of your top so she can shakily pull it off. she definitely blushes bright red seeing you topless for the first time, her throat going utterly dry. for boob havers you'd have to take her hands and place them directly on your chest because she's definitely not making the first move despite her eyes absolutely fixating on them. you'd have to encourage her ("you're allowed to touch, sara,") and if you sigh in pleasure when she does she gets so embarrassingly turned on she feels feverish. she overheats more when you tell her she can use her mouth on your chest, and whines when you tangle your hand in her hair and push more of your breast into her mouth. she's so sloppy with it but oh so eager, tongue flicking and pressing flat against your nipple alternately. she gets so into it she forgets she has the rest of you to explore.

sara's gaze is nothing short of reverent as more and more of you is revealed to her. she just sort of kneels there between your legs when you've finally shed all your layers, her lips slightly parted as she looks down at your wetness. she'd splutter and stammer if you tease her about it, ("look how wet you get me, baby,"), and her hand trembles as she reaches out, almost entranced, to shyly drag a finger along your pussy. her movements are a little stiff and unsure, so you have to reach down and take her gently by the wrist and show her how it's done. she's absolutely dead to the world watching the way you react to her touches; the arch of your back and the pleased moans that slip from your lips. she physically shudders when you ask her to press her fingers inside and she feels the squeeze of your cunt. she's so turned on it hurts. she follows your direction with pinpoint precision ("deeper, mmh-- just like that, baby,") and once you help her reach that sweet spot inside you she's going for it every time until your thighs tremble. she cums untouched when you do, the praise spilling from your lips ("archons-- yes, sara, good girl, don't stop,") snapping the tight coil in her stomach. she braces over you, shivering, burying her face in your neck as she pants for breath. she marvels at the strings of gossamer between her fingers as she pulls them from your soaked cunt--then squeaks in surprise when you gently roll her over so you're straddling her instead.

you giggle a little when your hand slips into her underwear to find her thoroughly drenched already. sara would be embarrassed, if she still had the brain capacity. any thoughts go out the window the moment you drag two fingers up and down her lower lips, flicking against her clit. she just came, she's sensitive, but the thought of asking you to stop almost makes her want to cry. her back arches, pushing her chest into yours as you pepper kisses up and down her neck and collarbones. she whines out your name, one hand digging into your shoulder and the other in your back when you push into her. her hips jump and rock in time with your gentle thrusts, and she whimpers each time your fingers graze her g-spot. she's nearly in tears by the time you make her cum. and when her orgasm does hit sara likes to be kissed, spilling her moans right into your mouth. she gets absolutely boneless afterwards despite her stamina, pleasure buzzing through her system.

when it comes to eating out, after getting some direction sara's insatiable. truly, having her face between your legs, eyes closed as she laps at your pussy with her only thought being making you feel good is a method of relaxation unto itself. sara's horrendously weak to praise, and if you tug her hair a little and dig your heel into her back to pull her closer she's going to moan into your cunt. sara gets messy with it too, drool and slickness smearing all over her lips and chin. if she's eating you out sniper-position she's definitely humping the bed. and eating out sara? having her sit on your face? she's probably broken the headboard more than once by gripping it so tightly. her wings flare out when she cums, completely losing all her willpower to keep them in. i think her moans are a little hiccup-y when she's cumming, slight hitches in breath with your name interspersed in between.

and oughjkhs... sara taking your strap... she'd be so pretty about it too. to me sara is a missionary enjoyer; she can see your face and you can kiss her easily and she can see the bulge you form in her muscled abdomen. she'd be clawing at the sheets or any surface within reach as you gently rock into her. when taking strap i think sara prefers positions where she's lying down and most of the work comes from you. she can have a little pillow princess moment, as a treat. sara isn't a fan of receiving roughness, though i think she could be convinced to show you a little. but even then it's not proper roughness, just moreso an increase in pace and maybe gripping your hips tight enough to leave a few marks. if she's dicking you down i can see sara enjoying doggy. it gives her a nice view of your back and the way it arches when you fucks into you so good, your arms giving out beneath you as you moan into the pillows. she'll kiss all over your shoulders and back and nape, and she leans down to almost pronebone you when you cum. she likes being as close as possible to you during either of your orgasms. also she'd definitely enjoy watching you ride her; she gets this absolutely adorable, starry, dopey look in her eye as you bounce on her lap.

i think sara is relatively vanilla but she'd be open to trying maybe some light bondage and sensory deprivation like blindfolds. she'd be okay with something like shibari if you're edging her for a bit, but when you properly fuck her she wants her hands to be free so she can hold you. she doesn't have much qualms about blindfolding, again, as long as she can hold you. but oh my god... they say being deprived of one sense heightens the others and sara is a yokai with already heightened senses... she gets so so unbelievably sensitive when she's blindfolded. have her kneel on the bed as you touch and tease her lightly and she'd drip onto the sheets. she cums twice as fast if you fuck her while blindfolded. BUT pain is a no go for her. i don't think sara takes any pleasure at all in being hit or hitting. there aren't many soft things in her life but she wants sex to be one of them.

[sharpvst]

" just friends. "

tw ; smut , smut and more smut.

situationship , rough sex.

————————————————————————

you were friends , until he had you bent over some random dorm room sink. you were friends until he fucked you. you were friends. just friends. nothing more — nothing less.

passing glances , agony fills your system each time he pretended to not know you. fallacious hope after every night he ravaged you. you'd be lying in his dorm room. he's sat on his windowsill , cigarette in mouth as he ignores you . . waiting for you to just leave.

you'd hesitate , eyes wandering around his crowded messy room — taking a moment to breathe. " round two or are you leaving ? " he'd ask coldly , not even turning around to face you. he already knew the answer , you always stayed.

he'd only talk to you in private , and even then the conversation barely lasted — the only thing it seemed that the two of you had in common was love for the art of fucking. it had been a common dance between you two , varying from time to time.

sometimes , he'd be sweet. you'd almost think he's making love to you , but he's just doing this to make you stay. other times , most times , he'd fuck you so hard to where you could barely move afterwards.

" yeah , you like my cock ? say it. " he'd spit on your face , large hands grasping at your throat just right. you gargled out something , but that wasn't good enough. " say it. " he would slap the soft flesh of your ass.

once , only once , he papered you. on your birthday of all things. it was the only time that you ever felt like he gave a fuck about you. he laid on near the edge of your bed , mouth covering your soft sensitive bud. his face already soaking wet and practically dripping onto the sheets as he edged you closer and closer to your release.

that was a good day , a long time ago however. you still think about it.

maybe you aren't friends , maybe this is more than that , maybe it isn't. you saw him take orher girls into a party bathroom or his dorm , it bothered you. and it bothered him because it wasn't you.

" such a fucking whore for me. " face squished into the mirror , farleigh's hands cupped your cheek - his thumb in your mouth. he was driving himself so deep into you . . all you could do was sit there and take it.

" need a cig ? "

he asked , eyes stare over at your semi - covered figure. this was the first time he'd ever said anything different. the first time he actually offered something. " sure. " you came over , joining him on his windowsill after a long night of intense fucking.

you expected something good , something worth coming over for. you lit the cigarette , taking a long drag before he spoke.

" we should stop. " cold , your heart stung. " why ? " he should have at least some integrity . . he should tell you. but instead , he stayed silent.

you walked away that night , tears streaming down your face pathetically.

so much for friends.

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Put to Sleep

Based on this prompt!

The cell door opened with a harsh screeching sound of metal against metal. Whumpee squinted against the light. Whumper strode in, roughly hoisting them to their feet and dragging them over to a table.

“I’m done with you, Whumpee,” Whumper said, “you’re much too broken for me to do anything with. So I’m putting you to sleep like the old dog you are.”

Whumpee’s dull eyes widened. For the first time in months, they fought against Whumper’s iron-grip.

“No! I’m only acting how you want me to! You can’t-!”

Whumper ingored them, instead wrangling them onto the table and strapping them down excessively. They took an alcohol pad and wiped down the crook of Whumpee’s elbow. No, no no no no no. This was just a trick- it had to be a trick. Why would Whumper kill them now? Whumpee didn’t want to die, why was this happening- was it something they said? Something they did in the past? Some kind of divine punishment for whatever reason!? Whumpee didn’t want to die! They didn’t want to!

The needle came into view and Whumpee burst into tears.

“Whumper! Whumper, please! Please, I don’t wanna die, I don’t want to be put to sleep, please Whumper!”

“Now now, there’s no use fighting about it. I’m putting you to sleep.”

Whumper jammed it into Whumpee’s skin and pressed down on the depressor, flooding their system with the drug.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!” Whumpee shrieked.

“There now, it’s done.”

This was it then? This was really it. There was no undoing this. Even as Whumpee panicked they began to feel sleepy. They didn’t want to go to sleep, they didn’t want to! They… they didn’t want to… they didn’t…

…

The afterlife looked a lot different than Whumpee expected. For one thing, they still felt all their bruises and cuts from the previous months in captivity- they thought Heaven would take care of all that. That would’ve led them to conclude that they were in the Other Place, but when they opened their eyes, such conclusions went away. They were in a large, lavish bedroom, in a big, plush bed. The covers were pulled up to their chin, and the window let in a stream of sunlight. Okay, so not Heaven, not… the opposite… then where?

“Hello, little one,” someone said.

Whumpee turned sluggishly. Their body was still half-asleep. They stared at this mystery person who had apparently been sitting next to them the whole time. Whumpee spoke over the lump forming in their throat.

“Is this… Purgatory?” they sniffled.

The stranger laughed.

“No,” they said gently, “you’re not dead, Whumpee.”

Whumpee’s brows slowly furrowed in confusion. What did they mean?

“But Whumper said…”

“What? What did they say?” the stranger asked, mirroring Whumpee’s expression.

“They said they were going to put me to sleep. They… they did put me to sleep!”

The stranger stared with wide eyes, then suddenly drew Whumpee in and hugged them close.

“Oh my poor little Whumpee,” they cooed, “they were playing with your fear. No. I requested that you be rendered unconscious for the journey here, nothing more.”

“You… you requested…?”

“My name is Carewhumper,” they said, “and when I saw what that monster was doing to you, I took the liberty of purchasing you from them. Not to worry. They won’t have time to spend a cent of the money before my men get through with them.”

“So… I’m not going to die?” Whumpee asked timidly.

“No. I’m going to make sure that you’re taken care of. You’re going to live.”

Whumpee stared in amazement, then burst into tears. Carewhumper rubbed their back soothingly, rocking them back and forth ever so slightly.

It was only when Whumpee’s tears had dried that Carewhumper pulled away.

“There now,” they said, “why don’t we get you fed? You look like you haven’t had a proper meal in months.”

Carewhumper helped Whumpee out of bed and escorted them down to the kitchen where a hearty breakfast was waiting for them.

…

Whumper cowered at the business-end of Henchman’s gun.

“Say the word, and they’re gone,” Henchman said into their earpiece.

“Do it.” Carewhumper’s voice crackled.

A loud bang, and Henchman put Whumper to sleep.

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@mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

@electrons2006

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter fifteen : two tea parties (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.4k

summary : reader and din have a tea party, just not with each other

warnings, etc. : language, angst

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

“What did you do to her?”

Her voice breaks through his sleepy haze as he sits up properly. 

“Excuse me?” He can’t seem to remember her name as he struggles to his feet. She pokes a finger into his chest, for someone staring down a bounty hunter she sure seemed to have a lot of confidence in her ability to intimidate him.

“The princess. What did you do to her? She’s got bruises, she’s hardly eating, and she’s all melancholy in there. And I think you’ve got something to do with it.” 

Shit, shit, shit.

He has several responses forming in his mind right now, all of which would make him appear guiltless. Then his stupidly tired brain decides he’s taking too long so instead he blurts out the first words to force their way out.  

“I didn’t mean to hurt her.” 

He couldn’t be more of an idiot.

The woman grabs his arm and starts dragging him away from your door. He could easily resist but he’s so embarrassed by his own fuck up he doesn’t bother as she pulls him towards an unfamiliar part of the castle, descending staircase after staircase until they reach the servants quarters and she shoves him into a room. It’s about the size of the cabin, a small kitchen in one corner, a sofa in the other, a fireplace with small burning embers dimly illuminating the stone walls, and a twin bed in the back. He recognizes the girl currently snoring softly under the blankets as your other servant. 

“Sit.” The Togruta girl snaps at him, pointing at the wooden table. 

Of course this is where he decides to finally take a stand and he crosses his arms, staring at her. 

Doesn’t last for long as she starts setting things up at the stove.

“Sit or I’m not giving you any caf.” She doesn’t bother turning around and he doesn’t bother resisting further at the promise of caffeine as he sits at the table.

He doesn’t speak as she puts a pot on the stove to boil. He feels a bit like a child who’s about to be scolded. For several minutes the only sounds are the other girl's soft snores and the crackle of the fire as he tries to keep his eyes open. 

He must have fallen asleep for a second because he jolts upright as she slams a mug down in front of him. 

“Drink. You look like shit.” 

“You have no idea what I look like.” He mutters as his hand grips the mug. 

“I do. You look like shit and you look like you haven’t slept in days. Drink.”

She says as she walks over to the bed, facing the wall and blocking his view of the other girl. “Be quick about it.” She takes a sip from her own mug. “Tell me when you’re done.”

In any other scenario he would refuse, or at the very least protest but he hasn’t had caf in a long time, he misses the bitter taste, and he should probably have his wits about him for the conversation they’re about to have. So he releases the airlock and lifts his helmet, quickly swallowing down the mug. 

The fact that he’s a little intimidated by the woman has nothing to do with his sudden obedience. At least that’s what he tells himself as he locks his helmet back in place. 

“I���m finished.” He can feel the familiar buzz of the caffeine as it flows through his system as he temporarily gets to feel a bit more conscious. 

“Good.” She turns and walks over, taking a seat across from him as she stares at him expectantly. 

His hands get clammy and he can feel his palms sticking to the insides of his gloves. 

This must be what his bounties feel like when he interrogates them. 

“What did you do to her?” She finally breaks the silence, continuing to glare at him. 

That’s a good question. 

He had loved you. 

There isn’t a doubt in his mind about that. 

He had been limited to only showing it to you physically, and when you had shown him a glimmer of something outside of that realm he had turned that love into something ugly. 

And now, mere days later he has to wonder if he made the wrong choice. 

He can’t exactly backtrack. He said terrible things to you. His own words from that night echo around in his helmet, taunting him. 

What did he do to you?

He was starting to get a little worried that he might have broken you.

You had spent all day scribbling in the library like a woman possessed. Truly that could have nothing to do with him though, he’s certain he couldn’t have possibly meant that much to you. Enough to drive you mad.

The Togruta girl snaps her fingers in front of the helmet.

“Hey, shiny, snap out of it. I know you had something to do with it so start talking.” 

Okay, maybe he did have something to do with it. 

No, what does she know about what had happened between the two of you? Well apparently she has wickedly good intuition, and he did basically already confess. 

“I’m not sure.” He wishes his voice didn’t tremble slightly but he can’t help it. 

“You aren’t sure…?” She grumbles as she finishes her mug. “Why don’t you start at the beginning. Tell me what happened.” 

And there’s no rational reason to. 

Or at the very least, there’s no rational reason to tell her the truth. 

And maybe it’s because he’s so tired. 

Or maybe it’s because this girl reminds him of someone he once knew, before he took this job.

But he tells her.

He leaves out a lot of the gorey details but he gives her the gist, she sits quietly the entire time as he whispers the things that transpired. And when he’s done he expects her to maybe tell him he did the right thing by ending it, or offer him words of comfort for what’s happened but instead she squints her eyes as she stares him down.

“You’re an idiot.” She says matter of factly as she leans back in her chair. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. You are dumb as shit.”

“I did what needed to be done. Things were getting out of hand.”

She scoffs.

“Out of hand? So you’re allowed to do nice things for her like buy her jewelry, and take her on little dates in the garden, but she isn’t allowed to do them for you? Seems pretty stupid to me. And your game is dumb, if you want to know things about her all you have to do is ask, the poor girl would talk to the walls if they’d talk back.” She takes the pot and pours herself another mug of caf, filling his as well. He doesn’t touch it. “And you say you don’t like her rules but it sounds to me like you’re the one who needed them, she didn’t break any rules you didn’t break first.” 

He crosses his arms in front of him, ready to retort but every response dies on his tongue.

She’s right. 

And he doesn’t want to have to ask her for advice but there’s no one else to ask.

“So what do I do? How do I fix this?” 

She chokes a bit on her caf.

“Fix it? Oh hon, you’ve done a lot of damage in a short amount of time.” 

If she could see through the steel she’d see the way his ears tinged pink in embarrassment. 

“So I shouldn’t do anything?” Even he knows he sounds way too sullen. 

She sighs and contemplates for a moment. 

“Look… normally I’d say yes. But I can’t deny that she seemed happier on days when things were okay with the two of you.”

“So what should I do?” He leans forward a bit in his seat. 

“I’d start with an apology, and you better make it good, especially after what you’ve put her through.” 

“Okay. Tomorrow I will try that.” 

He does, try, that is. The most he gets out is static, a crackle of his modulator before he shuts right up. He’s pretty sure you notice. 

“And then, no more lies. No more beating around the bush. If you’re going to put her through this again you need to be certain and you need to be honest. No more pretending it’s just physical, you tell her exactly what you want and exactly how you feel.”

He also tried that. After Kodo had struck you he had pulled together all of his resolve and told himself that he would just spit it out. Instead he had accidentally insulted you and threatened your husband. 

“Okay, I can do that. Umm… What about Kodo?” She takes another sip as he speaks.

“What about him?” 

“Should I not take into account the fact that she’s married?” 

She laughs, a genuine chuckle. 

“Have you seen them together? She looks at him like he’s some mud that she’s accidentally stepped in. Look, if they were happy together, or if I ever thought they could work it out then I might tell you to back off but trust me, those two will never make it work. He’s a pathetic excuse for a man.”

He’s a bit taken aback by her words. 

“Now go. I’m gonna get some shut-eye, I’d tell you to do the same but I know you won’t.” 

He stands, nodding at her. 

“And take the caf. You need it more than I do, if you’re gonna insist on not sleeping.” She sets hers down as she stretches her arms above her head. He takes his mug gratefully in his hands. 

“...Thank you.” 

She only nods in response, he opens the door of her quarters.

“Mandalorian.” 

His hand is on the doorknob as he turns to look back at the woman. 

“Don’t play with her. Either leave her alone or put in the effort.”

He hesitates for a moment before he leaves. 

✩

When your eyes flutter open the first thing you think is that your face should be hurting, your lip should be much more swollen. 

But when your fingers poke at your lip you find it to be mostly healed. 

You stand and leave the closet, walking over to the mirror and inspecting your wounds. There’s no trace of the red welt you would have thought you’d have. The only trace of the incident is a faint pink and white line through your lip. 

Finding the vial on the bed you carefully walk over to the mirror and apply another layer to the mark as Elaine and Lysa knock once as a warning before stepping into the room. You set the tube down on the vanity. 

It’s another hazy morning. 

They really are all blending together when you don’t have things to do. 

You’re dressed in a lacy orange gown. It’s flowy and cool, it seems like it would be perfect for a day in the gardens. Before you even realize what you’re doing you turn to Elaine. 

“Would you like to have tea with me today?” You have no idea what inspires you to ask such a question and you’re sure she’ll say no. That she’ll tell you it isn’t proper for a servant to do such a thing with you but instead she nods.

“That would be lovely, my lady. Where would you like to have it?” She wipes her hands on the front of her dress as she gives you a patient smile. 

“How about the gardens? There’s that gazebo by the water we could sit at.”

✩

You have no idea when she instructed someone to set it up but as the two of you walk towards the gardens there is miraculously already a table with chairs set up inside. A tray of tea steaming in the center of it all. 

You walk in silence, in all honestly it would probably be a comfortable silence if it weren’t for the looming presence of the Mandalorian behind you. Once the two of you step into the wooden structure, taking your seats you clear your throat, awkwardly, seeing him standing beside you in your peripherals. 

Elaine stares at him and the both of you sit, looking at each other uncomfortably until you finally turn and speak to him. 

“Can we have some privacy?” You shoot him a look as you say it and he takes a single, theatrical step back. 

Jackass. 

You’re about to just give up, he’s never wavered previously, why would he start now? But Elaine speaks up.

“I believe she asked for privacy.” 

You lean over towards her to tell her it’s useless, there’s no sense in arguing with him but your eyes go wide as he begins to walk away. You turn to stare at Elaine like she just performed an act of god. 

As the Mandalorian starts walking along the edge of the water you can’t seem to pick your jaw up off the floor, you have more questions than ever for her but none of them seem to flow, so she speaks first. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened at dinner last night?” She’s pouring tea into the mugs, mixing a generous amount of sugar and cream into yours. 

“You heard about that?” The nearly invisible mark on your face stings at the memory.

“Servants talk, I’m afraid it was inevitable that I would hear of it. Do you want to tell me what happened?” She hands you the mug and you take it in both your hands. 

She doesn’t ask if you’re okay. 

Like she knows you couldn’t possibly be. 

“Not really. There isn’t much to talk about, it all happened really fast.” You take a sip, it’s sweet just like the caf she makes you, it warms your tongue and puts you at ease. 

She hums softly, sipping her own, much darker tea. 

“He’s always had a temper that one, the king and queen did not keep a close enough eye on him growing up, and when no one ever says no it’s easy to quickly become a little monster.” She frowns as she speaks and you have to fight to keep the surprised look off your face, the servants never spoke ill of him.

You know this is probably a dangerous conversation but at this point you’re so lonely and things can’t possibly get worse. 

“Honestly, I’m just surprised it didn’t happen sooner. I knew with his pattern of behavior it was inevitable.” You mutter.

She has a breathy sad laugh. 

“Smart girl.” She raises her cup towards Mando. He looks like a kid being left out of a game on the playground as he kicks a stone into the lake. “He seems more upset about it than you.” She raises her eyebrows, now you’re really treading dangerous waters. 

“Mando? He doesn’t care, I think he just doesn’t want me getting banged up because it makes him look like he’s bad at his job.” Deep down you know that isn’t the case.

“Really? So he wasn’t the one who tore that book in half that I found in the hallway this morning?” She takes another sip as she stares at him out across the water, you choke on your tea.

“In half?” Your voice is a shocked whisper. It had been by no means a short book. It had been a hardcover, thick encyclopedia. 

“In half. Took Leo quite some time to pick up all that shredded paper.” She chuckles. Setting down her mug as she stares at you with an intensity you weren’t prepared for. 

She takes a deep breath that has you nervously tapping your nails against your cup. 

“I know that it’s hard, being in your position, to find people to confide in. But if you ever need to talk about something that’s bothering you, I am available, my lady. And I can be extremely discreet.” She folds her hands in her lap as you stare down at them. Unable to meet her gaze. 

What a breath of fresh air it would be, to have a friend, with no other complicated feelings. But you can’t just tell her what you’ve done. 

“I am not blind, princess. It’s my job to make sure you’re okay. And I know for a fact that you were doing more than okay for a few days and in an instant I saw all of that disappear.” She tilts her head down so she’s in your eyeline and you’re sure your face has a look of guilt on it. 

If it was just your life on the line you’d probably tell her everything. Just to get it out. But it’s not just your life, it’s his. You shudder as you imagine the things Kodo would do to him if he found out. 

But you could twist the truth. 

Tell her harmless details and maybe still find some comfort.

“He had been my friend. Briefly.” Your words are careful and deliberate. 

She nods, picking up her glass once more. Staying silent as an invitation for you to keep going. 

“At least… I thought he was my friend. Now I sort of think he might have just been messing with me.” You’re still being cautious with every detail you reveal. Keeping it simple and innocent. “And I guess he got bored. It’s confusing, I can’t keep up with him, it makes my head spin because he keeps changing.”

“Changing?”

She picks up the teapot, refilling your mugs. 

“It’s… hard to explain. It’s like, he’s a different person everyday. Some days he can’t stand me and some days he-“ You manage to catch yourself before you go one step too far. “Some days he cares for me. I’m starting to wonder if he just enjoys making me miserable.” You pour another spoonful of sugar into your mug. 

“I think he cares for you very much.” She says it so matter of factly that you almost roll your eyes at the notion.

“I doubt that. If that is the case he has a really fucked up way of showing it.”

“Look at him.” She nods out towards the lake and when you turn he’s crouched down next to the edge of the water. 

He’s deadly still for a moment and then he slowly reaches down and scoops something up from the surface of the water. Holding it close to his helmet as he stands. Completely focused on whatever is in his hand. 

He looks strangely domesticated. 

You watch as what you now realize is a frog, jumps out of his hand back into the lake. 

He stares at his empty palm for a long time. 

“He looks like a lost puppy without you. I have to wonder what he was doing before he took this job because it seems like he doesn't know what to do with himself when he isn’t wagging his tail and trailing behind you.” She chuckles and you can’t help but laugh softly with her. 

It feels good to laugh. 

It feels less good to blurt out your next question. 

“Have you ever, umm… talked to him?” You don’t want to ask it, it feels so childish but you can’t help it as you turn back to face her, hoping there isn’t any lingering jealousy in your tone. 

“A little bit. Enough to know that I’m right, he does care for you.” 

You cough awkwardly. 

“What did he say?”

You catch her smirk right before she takes another sip. 

“Mostly he seemed to have a lot of excuses. But I think his real issue is just that he’s scared.”

Huh. 

It’s difficult to picture him scared of anything. 

“Scared?”

“I think this is a conversation you should be having with him.”

“But he won’t talk to me, the first time he’s spoken to me all week was only because of what Kodo did.”

“It isn’t my place to tell you how to deal with him. I just know that you seemed happier when things were good between the two of you.” 

It’s quiet for a few minutes as the two if you drink and you come to terms with her words. She speaks first.

“He doesn’t sleep either.” 

“What?”

“The Mandalorian. He isn’t sleeping. He just sits in front of your door all night.”

You had suspected that to be the case but the confirmation makes your heart skip a beat. 

“He just sits there? What is he doing?”

“I only see him there in passing, I do a lot of my errands at night, I’m more productive when I’m the only one roaming the castle. It seems like he’s just waiting for you.” 

You frown. 

“Waiting for me to do what?”

She laughs. 

“He’s just waiting for you.”

There’s that ache in your chest. She leans forward to give you a sympathetic look, your pain must show on your face. 

“How about we talk about something else for a bit?” Her voice is soft and comforting as you nod. 

“What about you, do you have a special someone?” You laugh for a moment until you realize your slip up and the color drains from your face. “Like, a friend.”

Real smooth, dummy. 

She doesn’t seem fazed though as she grins. 

“Yeah, I’ve got a special friend.” She laughs to herself and you relax a bit. She looks towards the lake and back at you before raising her eyebrows. He’s walking back over as she changes the subject. “What are you planning on wearing tomorrow?”

You can’t help but laugh. 

“How should I know? You and Lysa always pick for me.” She rolls her eyes at your response. 

“I meant to the ball.”

The confusion must be apparent on your face because she sighs. 

“Of course no one told you. Maker, is anyone else in the castle capable of treating you like a person other than me?” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Kodo’s birthday is tomorrow. He makes a big deal of it every year, it’s a huge party, you of course will be expected to attend.”

You don’t bother stifling your groan.

“And I absolutely have to go to this?” 

She pats your knee as she leans back in her chair, eyeing the Mandalorian up and down as he walks into the gazebo, standing on the opposite side of it, away from the two of you. 

“I’m afraid you do, but don’t fret, he’s always so preoccupied during this thing that you won’t have to worry about staying for long. You’ll just need to make an appearance as his wife for a bit and you should be able to leave after a few hours if you'd like. It tends to get a bit rowdy as the night goes on so I suggest getting out once the opportunity presents itself.” 

You nod, this must be is what it feels like to have a friend. 

It makes you realize that you and the Mandalorian had never really been friends, that was completely different than what this was. With him there was always something more there, something demanding your attention that you always managed to ignore. With Elaine it’s easy to just talk without any other feelings lingering in the air. 

“I suppose I will wear whatever you decide is best.” You give her a grin.

“If that is what you wish.”

“But not blue.” She raises an eyebrow as you say that but she’s smirking.

“Excellent choice.”

Your eyes dart over to the Mandalorian, he’s facing away from the two of you, giving you a false sense of privacy as you look back to Elaine. 

“And not green.” 

“As you wish, my lady.” 

You don’t talk about much else of importance after that. She tells you that she wants to make dresses someday, and you tell her about some of the romance novels you’ve read. 

The Mandalorian stays in the gazebo, a reminder to keep things light. 

She tells you that Lysa is a rather talented piano player, and that Leodall dreams of one day becoming a lord or a duke. It’s nice, casual. You want to do it again at some point and when you tell her that, she happily agrees. 

Eventually she walks you back to the castle, he walks behind the two of you, always just out of reach until you make it back inside.

You can’t help it.

You hug her.

Mumbling a thank you, because you feel worlds better after having a conversation with someone with no tensions and no ulterior motives. 

She departs and you walk to the library, reading another cheesy romance novel at your drawing table until the sun has set. 

He still doesn’t speak, every so often he’ll pace the length of the room at one point you’re pretty sure he trips over nothing. How odd. You return to your quarters as always, ready to turn in for the night.

✩

Except you can’t.

You pace back and forth throughout your room. Your bare feet shuffling across the cool wood floors. 

He’s ruining your sleep again. 

Because now you can’t close your eyes without thinking about how he’s out there, waiting for you. 

You had wanted comfort and maybe even closure from Elaine but instead you’re more confused than ever. 

He wants you, he doesn’t want you, he hates you, he’s willing to die for you. None of it makes sense and he’s out there. 

Your chest hurts thinking about him all alone out there every night. Even if he hates you, and doesn’t want you. 

You’d feel better if he was at least sleeping out there. But no, he’s awake and aware and always there. 

Is he listening in? Has he turned up the helmet to listen to the soft patter of your footsteps? Why would he be doing that? He’s supposed to not care about you, to not want you. But according to Elaine that isn’t the case? Every single hour he gets more and more confusing, you want to scream at him. You want to punch him in his stupid Beskar face. (Mostly because you know it wouldn’t really hurt him all that bad.) You want to demand answers, demand he leave you alone, or demand he take it all back.

Could you forgive him?

You’re pretty sure you want to forgive him.

You just aren’t sure if you can. 

That is, of course, if he ever apologizes. 

Does he want to apologize?

Why would he have said all those things in the first place if he didn’t mean them?

You don’t remember opening the door. But right now you’re staring down at him and he’s staring up at you, so you must have at one point. He’s sitting with his legs out in front of him as you take a step back, leaving the door open. 

A silent invitation in. 

You’re worried for a moment that he isn’t going to accept it but he slowly gets to his feet. Stretching his arms back a bit with a groan as he takes a step in. 

You hadn’t seen it before but now you don’t know how you didn't realize how exhausted he looks. You don’t even know how he’s still standing as he stumbles into the room as you close the door, clicking the lock shut. 

His shoulders are slumped forward, his usual imposing posture is completely gone and his helmet keeps tilting downwards before jolting back up, like he’s barely keeping his eyes open. 

It’s torture, never being able to stay angry at him. 

You had no plan when you’d let him in. Maybe yell at him, demand answers, demand he free you of this curse that is wanting to be his. 

But you can’t do that. Not when he’s looking around like he doesn’t even know where he is. Maker, when was the last time he slept? 

Reaching forward you take his hand, leading him over to the bed and sitting him down. 

“Mando?” You say it like you’re speaking to a lost child who can’t find their parents. 

He hums softly in response, the helmet tilting up to look at you as you give his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“You’re gonna sleep here. The door is locked so you don’t have to worry about anyone taking off your helmet, okay?”

He nods and your heart stops as his hand comes up to your face. His thumb brushes over the nearly completely faded line on your lip. 

“M’sorry… ner sarad’ika. Bid ni ceta.” His voice is a warm sleepy drawl and you have to close your eyes so he doesn’t see the pained look you have when he starts speaking in that soft tone, the gentle one you feel like you haven’t heard in ages, the one that’s just for you. You can’t help but wonder if he’ll remember any of this tomorrow. 

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do this, remember? It was Kodo, not you.” You gingerly pull his hand from your face as you hold his arms, laying him down against the mattress. 

You shouldn’t, not when he’s clearly so vulnerable but you can’t help yourself as you run your knuckles against the cold steel of his helmet, trying to soothe him. 

“That’s not what I’m sorry about mesh’la.” His hands reach forward, asking for you, and you have to use all of your self control to not give in and just hold him. You settle for giving him your hands as you nod. 

You need this to end. It’s too much and you know it’ll be gone in the morning. Once he gets some sleep he’ll be gone again. Standing behind you, your shadow. Not like right now, where he’s in front of you, and needs you. You can’t lose this again, you won’t be able to take it so you start to walk away but he pulls you down so you’re sitting next to him and he’s so gentle about it. He’s so out of it right now, he should be in his default state right now, he’s a trained killer, he should naturally be rough and aggressive with you, but he isn’t. 

Even in this condition he makes a conscious choice to handle you like you might crumble to pieces if he isn’t careful. 

At this point you might. 

“I need to go to bed, Mando. I’ll be in the closet, right there if you need me.” 

His grip on your hands tightens ever so slightly. 

“Y’know that m’sorry, right? I need to know that you know.” His voice cracks on the last word and his voice is laced with a desperation you’ve never heard from him before. You even hear a little sniffle through the modulator.

Maker he must really be sleep deprived. 

It feels like drowning. He’s taking you out into open waters with these words and in the morning he’ll be gone and you’ll be left without a life jacket. 

“I know Mando.” His grip loosens enough for you to stand up. Your voice is strained. “I promise, I know, but I need you to get some sleep now, can you do that for me?”

He hesitates. Like he’s trying to make sure you understand. 

“Okay, sarad’ika.”

He nods as he releases your hands, his shoulders relax and he’s asleep in minutes. Once you’ve certain he’s out cold you go back to the closet, leaving the door cracked in case he needs something as you curl up in your blankets. 

Your hands fish around in the sheets and pillows until you find the book, pulling it out you open it and let the necklace he had given you fall out. Cradling it in your hands you trace the small charm with your fingers. 

Sarad’ika. 

He can’t do that to you. 

He can’t just call you that again after what he did. 

Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover, nothing. 

He decided he wanted to be nothing. So why should he get to say sweet things in Mando’a to you with no repercussions? 

It makes your blood boil as you shove the necklace into one of the pillow cases, getting ready to go back out there and give him a piece of your mind but as you’re about to stand and pull yourself together you can hear rumbling, static snores from the other room.

And you can’t help but crack a smile. 

He sounds like a fucking Wookiee when he snores. 

Something about it makes you lay back down.

Like it reminds you that under all that perfect metal he is still only a man. 

He needs sleep.

So do you. 

Being angry with him can wait until tomorrow. 

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[aritsukemo]

A Mid-Night Snack | Kunikuzushi

Music Artist Kunikuzushi x Idol Reader

Warnings: Major Character Death ( Kunikuzushi ), suicide, depression and bpd are implied, drugs are referenced and used ( Kunikuzushi takes antidepressants and ends up overdosing on them ), severe hallucinating ahead ( Everything that happens in this fic does not actually happen ), Scaramouche is used a stage name, Kunikuzushi as his real name, modern au ahead, also nasty topics such as vomit and blood are used as descriptors towards the end. With all that said, please enjoy this at your own volition and risk!

A/N: It's officially January 3rd where I live so Happy Belated New Years and Happy Birthday to my gloriously written shnookums Wanderer! To celebrate his birthday, I've decided to do a part two to my former-drabble-now-fanfic 'A Boring Experiment'! I'm seeming to have a pattern in trying new things with him so like my other Kunikuzushi fanfic, this is completely new ground for me. That said, I hope you can still enjoy. ( Also this is a gift for the one who enjoyed my little drabble i wrote on a whim and requested a part two of it! )

Part One: A Boring Experiment | Part Two: A Mid-Night Snack

Tagging: @nursedflowers / @kazusys

Beep. Beep. Beep.

 "Lately, a new all boys group going by the name of 5WIRL seems to be on the rise to stardom! In only two weeks their debut album, 'Alone With The Wind', has already charted as number five in The Billboard Global 200; an astonishing feat that has only ever been accomplished by the solo artist Scaramouche!"

 "Speaking of him, a new shocking piece of evidence has urged police to reopen the case regarding the sudden and tragic death of world-famous idol Y/n L/n. It has officially been revealed that L/n had a high dosage of prescription drugs in their system by the time of their death which have made police believe drove them to jumping."

"Furthermore, it's now being suspected that their death was not actually a suicide but instead a cruel setup. By who, you may wonder? Well, it's obviously none other than the love of their life Scaramouche himself! More about our thoughts after this commercial break—!"

With the click of a button the radio fell silent, allowing the quiet that once trespassed into the bedroom to seep back in. A groan of the one who was disturbed is as brief as their stretches as they sit up, their purple hair flopping in disarray around the sides of their face as they check the clock. It reads 3:12am.

It felt odd to wake up at such an hour seeming as it’s usually the time he's falling asleep. It pulls another groan out of him, but this one was wrapped in frustration rather than drowsiness. It was always a challenge to get to sleep in the first place let alone get back to sleep, especially after—

A growl rumbles through his core, interrupting his thoughts. Its origins are the center of his stomach; a consequence of deciding to lay around in bed instead of making dinner last night.

He decides his next move rather quickly; he might as well get a snack.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He's in the kitchen in another five minutes and snacking on some instant ramen in the next. He doesn't bother going back to his room, finding himself too famished to do anything except stuff his face—which he inevitably does.

His elbow brushes against the counter that he leans on as he raises the cup in his hand, lifting a large portion of noodles up with his wooden chopsticks in tandem, before immediately bringing it to his mouth and relishing in its bland taste.

 "Hmg...Kuni', is that you? Why are you up?"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He turns at the sound of the familiar voice—the sweet symphony of his beloved’s wrapped in the raspiness of sleepiness—and, upon turning, is greeted with the sight of your drooping eyes boring into his own.

 "Got hungry," He simply mumbled, his tongue feeling like a paper weight in his mouth. He tried his best to ignore the feeling.

You slowly walked up to him, your feet thudding against the floor as if being dragged down by an anchor. You reach him after ages, and when you do, he lifts his arms up and allows you the space to dip under them and slug your arms around his waist. As if your head weighed one thousand pounds, it immediately flops forward and collides with the soft fabric of his sweatshirt. Kunikuzushi immediately cages you, and after that, resumes his eating.

 “Don’t get food on me,” You warn, though you’re too tired to convey your words in a properly threatening way. Even if it did, his reaction would’ve been the same; rolling his eyes heavenwards.

 “Don’t insult me. Unlike you, my food actually goes into my mouth.”

The room fills with silence again after that...not really. Periodically, a series of slurps fill your ears; a product of your boyfriend being too eager to stuff his face which ultimately results in him having to suck up a long trail of ramen in one go. You don’t mind the sound though. In fact, you actually find the obnoxious noise pleasant and you’re sure that if it continued, it’d be able to serenade you back to sleep..

Then again, you’re so tired right now that a blow horn would probably have the same effect on you. The only thing you can imagine having the opposite effect on you right now would be—

A loud gurgle cuts through all other micro-noises in the room, its animalistic growl devouring any other sound and swallowing it whole so that when it fades there’s complete silence. A heartbeat of time passes before you finally open your eyes again, peering up at your boyfriend with a kitten-like gaze when you do. He exhales in an exasperated manner yet his arms lift regardless. You take the opportunity to slip from him, your grip loosening around his body until it fades altogether, allowing him to walk past you.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You were in the dining room now—if you could even call it that. Really it was just a cheap, foldable table the two of you shoved in the corner of the open kitchen along with some chairs.

You sat across from each other. Kunikuzushi—long finished with his cup of noodles—staring absentmindedly as you demolish the freshly-microwaved ramen cup with vigor. He watches in silence. His eyes follow the journey of your utensil as it twists and wraps the yellow strands around it until it’s sturdy enough to lift into the air before traveling slowly upwards. He catches every little twitch of eagerness your lips make before they finally open and allows the delicious, soft food into your mouth at last where he hears a loud crunch!

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He blinks, the sharp noise forcing him from his daze and back to reality. His face then tightens, scrunching up from perplexment and overall discomfort at what he had just heard. You catch his expression by chance and noticing it has you looking up, your own look of confusion painted on your face.

 “What’s wrong?” You question, still chewing on the huge bite. He doesn’t answer you and simply stares at you with a narrowed gaze. It earns a scowl from you and another loud call of his name, “Kuni’!”

 “I can hear you,” He quickly snaps, “No need to yell.”

You can feel the end of your brows twitch, agitated by his tone and overall comment. Kunikuzushi notices, but doesn’t speak on it and instead listens to your soft munching until it eventually ceases.

 “If you heard me then you should’ve answered,” You grumbled, already preparing your next bite by forcing your utensil to twirl once again, “And you get an attitude when you were the one giving me strange looks.”

 “..Anyways..nightmares aren’t usually a common occurrence with you unless..” You find yourself hesitating to ask your question and decide to calm your nerves with another bite of food.

You bring your utensil up to your lips again, this bite is bigger than the last and you can see the thick, white steam admitting from each yellow strand. It singes the delicate skin of your lips when it gets near and you have no choice but to take the time to gently blow the steam away. It’s in that little time that you finally work up the courage to continue.

 “..Have you taken your meds?” You whisper the question into the darkness, your eyes glued to your noodles, too scared to watch his reaction take shape—to see his lips dip into a frown and his eyes darken with annoyance.

 “Yes, I took ‘em before I went to bed,” He grumbled. The lack of vexation in his voice coerces you to glance up at him. He simply looked exhausted, nothing more. It was a sight that was as surprising as it was relieving. You found yourself staring for longer than you probably should’ve. Kunikuzushi’s eyes quirk up and he catches your gaze, frowning when he does so. It’s only then that you realize how unconvinced you likely looked in that moment.

Alas, it was too late to fix your face because the damage had already been done. The love of your life was already looking away and flicking his hand, saying,  “You can go check if you want. I’m sure you know the exact number of pills I had in there.” 

His comment was deep with scorn and though his eyebags and lazy tone hid it well, you could tell you had hurt him to some degree. It made your heart sting, made your frown grow three times bigger, but you stood to your feet regardless. You might as well.

A moment of silence passes as you make your way to the kitchen, passing the table and ultimately him as you slowly make your way over to the specific cabinet near the fridge where the two of you kept all your bottled remedies. You reach for the handle and quickly realize that you had accidentally brought your noodle cup with you, seemingly too hungry to part with it. It makes you pause only for a moment, though, and ultimately, you switch hands, grab the handle, and swing the cabinet door open.

Medications of all kinds sit in the same place you had left them it seems, there varying lengths and thrown around locations making the small space seem like a mini junkyard. You scan each bottle, briskly reading the description of those whose initial appearance matched the particular bottle you were looking for only to quickly move on upon reading the first couple letters. You do that for some time, reading bottles, moving bottles, and even restarting the process once or twice…but it seems what you were looking for was nowhere to be found. It had completely disappeared. 

 “Kuni’,” You called. Having long set your cup of noodles aside and are now gripping both cabinet doors, which are both now wide open, by their knob handles. You hear his raspy hum—his sign of acknowledgement—and it’s then you finally say, “Where are the pills?”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

 “Should be on the second shelf,” He replied, “Well they aren’t,” You retorted.

 “Look again,” He tells you, “I’ve looked through the cabinet, like, three times already; they’re not in here,” You told him. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep!

 “I put the bottle back in the cabinet after I took one, it should be in there,” You heard him say. You could tell he was agitated. It was especially clear in his next words, “Do you think I’m lying?”

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

 “No,” You tried to say as sincerely as possible despite raising your voice. Though past experiences have made you doubtful, you do vaguely remember him convincing him to take them the other night and him getting up to go and take them.

Did he hide them then? The thought sits at the back of your mind, but you try to ignore it. Unfortunately, your subconscious suspicion must be blatant in your voice—more so than your heartfelt sincerity—because the next time he spoke, it was with the same irritability as before.

 “You think I’m lying,” His earlier question comes out as a firm statement and has you just about wincing upon hearing it. Kunikuzushi looks back at last and his eyes lock with your discomforted expression—a rather audacious look to have on your face in his opinion, seeming as you’re the one accusing him of doing wrong.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Seeing that your previous plan of diffusing the situation—and his anger—failed miserably, you move on to your next one, going on to ask in a cautious tone, “Why are you getting so worked up anyways? All I did was tell you that your medication wasn’t in the cabinet.”

 “Unless…Kunikuzushi, did you actually—” You stop yourself from letting the full sentence slip out, but it was futile. The rest of your question weighed heavy in the silence that followed, lingering in your boyfriend’s ears—his mind—until he finally exploded.

 “I took the fucking pills, aright?! I took them last night and then put them back in the cabinet! Them being gone now has nothing to do with me!”

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

  “I didn’t mean it like—” “Bullshit. You know exactly what you meant!”

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! 

 “Do you even think I took them? Because I did. You know why? Because someone wouldn’t stop bitching about it!” His screams bounce off the walls before reaching your ears. The volume has you flinching away from it.

You’re sure that if your neighbors weren’t out of town, you’d have a noise complaint taped to your front door come morning..

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

His voice suddenly dips, evening out to his normal tone yet still holds his anger as he spoke, “I’m not a child. I’m capable of doing things without you having to constantly keep up with me,” He turns his head away from the entranceway—from you—deciding to direct his glare to the table instead. Having such an intense gaze off of you felt like a drop of water in a desert; relieving. It allows you to breathe and move at last, albeit with trepidation, and you do so, slowly making your way over to him.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! ………..Beep.

You make it up to him relatively quickly even with your turtle-paced walk. You stop right behind him, but he doesn’t acknowledge the newfound proximity and continues to keep his back turned to you. You don’t feel disheartened by this. If anything, you found this a blessing. After all, it’s much harder to keep your voice from wavering when you have daggers pointed your way.

 “I’ll admit, for a moment, I did doubt you” You began, your hands reaching out for him, your shoulders relaxing when he allows you to slide your hands onto his shoulders. You grip at them, tenderly squeezing and massaging the tensing flesh underneath your fingertips as you continue on to say, “Even so, I believe you now. I mean, why else would you get so upset otherwise, right?”

Kunikuzushi remains silent so you assume that’s his way of giving you the green light to keep going. You take the chance, leaning in to plant a kiss to his scalp before muttering into it.

 “I don’t see you as some helpless kitten, but I just..I worry about you sometimes.. A lot of the time, actually. I always am. I never intended to come off as bossy. I do try to stress the importance of taking your medication and following up on your appointments with your therapist, but that’s only because I want to ensure you’re okay.” 

 “That still doesn’t give me a pass for my actions, though, and I hope that you’ll be able to forgive me. If not immediately, then maybe after some cuddles and a good night’s sleep?” You’re full on leaning into his back now and you’re certain that at this point you were likely leaning all your body weight onto him. It wasn’t entirely on purpose. In fact, you’re pretty confident in your assumption that those noodles digesting in your stomach had sucked away the little energy you had in you and were the cause of this, but you didn’t really mind. Not if he didn’t. 

 “I’m going to bed,” Is what he mutters instead of an apology for his overreaction—not that you expected one from him anyways. You stopped expecting and hoping for things like that a long time ago, as sad as that may be.

He sits up and you begrudgingly straighten up yourself. Too tired to even hold your head upright, your head droops as if it weighed the same as a sack of jewels. Having no choice but to stare downwards, you watch as the chair legs move back and his knees straighten out as he stands up. You slide back, allowing him space to walk past you. He does just that, but before he’s completely out of reach, he swings his arm back and hooks your fingers with his. It’s then that your eyes open to what he really said, or rather, what he wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to.

 “I’m sorry. Let’s go to bed, please.”

You squeeze his hand once and never let go; silent proof of your acknowledgement and acceptance. Kunikuzushi, feeling your grip warming his hand, steps forward..only for his knees to suddenly become jelly underneath his skin.

His legs buckle for a mere moment before he collapses, ultimately dragging you down with him. Your descent is short, yet you still stare at him as if you two had just fallen off the side of a mountain and managed to survive the fall unscathed; bewildered and fearful.

 “Are you okay?” Your lips move faster than your brain can process what just happened. Your limbs do too, your free hand coming up to cup his cheek. Kunikuzushi leans into your touch instinctively only to soon after peel it away from his slicken skin; a contradicting action, one of many that made up the person you loved.

 “I’m..” He meant to say fine, but slurred incoherency replaced the word instead. It made your brows furrow, made your worries grow sky high, but as you fixed your lips to ask him more questions, he suddenly leaned against you and it was then that you finally realized the problem.

Your poor baby was tired—no, exhausted. So much so that he could barely even walk.

You sigh—more so out of relief than anything else—as you force yourself onto your feet once again. You help him up, and despite the feeling of him leaning against you feeling like a boulder crushing you, you slung his arm around your shoulder before beginning to walk step by step to your safe haven—the place you both often yearned for when you wanted to escape from the world; your shared bedroom.

In a matter of minutes, the two of you were wrapped under the gentle heat of thick covers while your heads were caressed by the soft plush of your pillows.

At last, you two found peace. You especially felt relaxed at the warmth of the noodles you ate earlier feeling like a fireplace in your stomach, though it did little to improve your overall circulation. Nevertheless, it fueled your drowsiness, gave you a push as you crept to the edge of the hill of sleepiness, just about tipped you off the edge that led down to the bottomless abyss you’ve come to call dreamville.

But how could one properly sleep with their goodnight kiss?

 “Goodnight, Kuni..” You whispered, eyes just barely open as you lazily craned your head upwards. Kunikuzushi, as if having read your thoughts, was already leaning in.

You meet at a point and your lips connect and grow slick in an instant by each others’ saliva. His mouth starts tingling, quickly spreading to his tongue. It felt as if someone had spit already chewed up food into his mouth. It forces a grimace onto his face that’s barely visible even when he pulls away. In the end, as you turn on your side, he tries to swallow down. He struggles. His saliva feels like a soggy chunk of ramen, but he manages to succeed. Unfortunately for him, the taste lingers, and in the end, he forces himself to ignore the sickening feeling and taste altogether.

He grumbles out a similar phrase of wishing you a peaceful night's sleep, finding himself licking his lips as he does so. His tongue brushes along his lips, swiping up the thick slick that coats it. With his eyes closed, he doesn’t notice its color and though it burns his tongue and makes him want to vomit just like your kiss did he, again, pays it no mind. Though his reason this time was because he simply had no other choice, too tired to even open his eyes.

He begins drifting off to sleep. His strength fades first; starting from the tip of his toes and slowly making its way up to his face—which felt as if it had been splashed by a bucket of water. It felt damp, just as it did earlier when he woke up. Was it sweat? If so, how long had he been sweating?

....He’ll find his answers tomorrow, surely.

His body seems to fall asleep before his mind could catch up, and because of that, he remained awake despite his eyes and sense of touch having long left him. It feels weird—discomforting even—to feel so numb and only be able to hear the slow thumping of his heart. Though it was still a paradise when compared to his sleep paralysis moments he’d have at times.

All things must come to an end at some point though, good or bad. This is no exception. Slowly, the beat of his heart slowed to a point a turtle could beat it in a race before it stopped altogether. What quickly followed that was his fade in consciousness—which felt as though he was falling down a deep, clean hole. Nothing to grasp at, nothing to feel.. Nothing to guide him but the eerie sense of weightless chilling his bone marrow.

And just before he hit the bottom he heard your voice, suddenly felt your touch, and it was as if every negative thing that was happening to him in that moment had vanished..

 “No matter what happens, Kuni’, I’ll always love you and stay by your side. I’m not going anywhere, so please, sleep without worry so that when you awake again, you’ll be able to properly relish in the sun.”

………………….Beep………………….

 “Tonight, many are mourning the depressing news regarding the worldwide music sensation, Scaramouche—real name Kunikuzushi—who was found dead in his vacation home this morning.”

 “They say that friends of the artist had grown concerned due to his sudden drop in communication and decided to pay him a visit after he missed an important get-together that had been planned months ahead of time. When they arrived at his vacation home, they found that all the lights were off and the door unlocked which spurred them to investigate and eventually find him dead in his bed, choking on his own blood and vomit.”

 “It is reported that his cause of death was caused by severe overdose likely triggered by the chewing and ingesting of Amitriptyline. With the discoveries made so far, Police suspect his death of being a suicide and that he had to be dead for at least a few days before he was discovered.”

 “It causes many to wonder; could his sudden death have been related to the Y/n L/n case? Possibly driven by his own guilt? Or did his now missing manager have something to do with this? More about our thoughts on tonight's talk show after this commercial break!”

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[luckbealincoln]

Best Kept Secret

chapter fifteen : two tea parties

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.4k

summary : reader and din have a tea party, just not with each other

warnings, etc. : language, angst

“What did you do to her?”

Her voice breaks through his sleepy haze as he sits up properly. 

“Excuse me?” He can’t seem to remember her name as he struggles to his feet. She pokes a finger into his chest, for someone staring down a bounty hunter she sure seemed to have a lot of confidence in her ability to intimidate him.

“The princess. What did you do to her? She’s got bruises, she’s hardly eating, and she’s all melancholy in there. And I think you’ve got something to do with it.” 

Shit, shit, shit.

He has several responses forming in his mind right now, all of which would make him appear guiltless. Then his stupidly tired brain decides he’s taking too long so instead he blurts out the first words to force their way out.  

“I didn’t mean to hurt her.” 

He couldn’t be more of an idiot.

The woman grabs his arm and starts dragging him away from your door. He could easily resist but he’s so embarrassed by his own fuck up he doesn’t bother as she pulls him towards an unfamiliar part of the castle, descending staircase after staircase until they reach the servants quarters and she shoves him into a room. It’s about the size of the cabin, a small kitchen in one corner, a sofa in the other, a fireplace with small burning embers dimly illuminating the stone walls, and a twin bed in the back. He recognizes the girl currently snoring softly under the blankets as your other servant. 

“Sit.” The Togruta girl snaps at him, pointing at the wooden table. 

Of course this is where he decides to finally take a stand and he crosses his arms, staring at her. 

Doesn’t last for long as she starts setting things up at the stove.

“Sit or I’m not giving you any caf.” She doesn’t bother turning around and he doesn’t bother resisting further at the promise of caffeine as he sits at the table.

He doesn’t speak as she puts a pot on the stove to boil. He feels a bit like a child who’s about to be scolded. For several minutes the only sounds are the other girl's soft snores and the crackle of the fire as he tries to keep his eyes open. 

He must have fallen asleep for a second because he jolts upright as she slams a mug down in front of him. 

“Drink. You look like shit.” 

“You have no idea what I look like.” He mutters as his hand grips the mug. 

“I do. You look like shit and you look like you haven’t slept in days. Drink.”

She says as she walks over to the bed, facing the wall and blocking his view of the other girl. “Be quick about it.” She takes a sip from her own mug. “Tell me when you’re done.”

In any other scenario he would refuse, or at the very least protest but he hasn’t had caf in a long time, he misses the bitter taste, and he should probably have his wits about him for the conversation they’re about to have. So he releases the airlock and lifts his helmet, quickly swallowing down the mug. 

The fact that he’s a little intimidated by the woman has nothing to do with his sudden obedience. At least that’s what he tells himself as he locks his helmet back in place. 

“I’m finished.” He can feel the familiar buzz of the caffeine as it flows through his system as he temporarily gets to feel a bit more conscious. 

“Good.” She turns and walks over, taking a seat across from him as she stares at him expectantly. 

His hands get clammy and he can feel his palms sticking to the insides of his gloves. 

This must be what his bounties feel like when he interrogates them. 

“What did you do to her?” She finally breaks the silence, continuing to glare at him. 

That’s a good question. 

He had loved you. 

There isn’t a doubt in his mind about that. 

He had been limited to only showing it to you physically, and when you had shown him a glimmer of something outside of that realm he had turned that love into something ugly. 

And now, mere days later he has to wonder if he made the wrong choice. 

He can’t exactly backtrack. He said terrible things to you. His own words from that night echo around in his helmet, taunting him. 

What did he do to you?

He was starting to get a little worried that he might have broken you.

You had spent all day scribbling in the library like a woman possessed. Truly that could have nothing to do with him though, he’s certain he couldn’t have possibly meant that much to you. Enough to drive you mad.

The Togruta girl snaps her fingers in front of the helmet.

“Hey, shiny, snap out of it. I know you had something to do with it so start talking.” 

Okay, maybe he did have something to do with it. 

No, what does she know about what had happened between the two of you? Well apparently she has wickedly good intuition, and he did basically already confess. 

“I’m not sure.” He wishes his voice didn’t tremble slightly but he can’t help it. 

“You aren’t sure…?” She grumbles as she finishes her mug. “Why don’t you start at the beginning. Tell me what happened.” 

And there’s no rational reason to. 

Or at the very least, there’s no rational reason to tell her the truth. 

And maybe it’s because he’s so tired. 

Or maybe it’s because this girl reminds him of someone he once knew, before he took this job.

But he tells her.

He leaves out a lot of the gorey details but he gives her the gist, she sits quietly the entire time as he whispers the things that transpired. And when he’s done he expects her to maybe tell him he did the right thing by ending it, or offer him words of comfort for what’s happened but instead she squints her eyes as she stares him down.

“You’re an idiot.” She says matter of factly as she leans back in her chair. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. You are dumb as shit.”

“I did what needed to be done. Things were getting out of hand.”

She scoffs.

“Out of hand? So you’re allowed to do nice things for her like buy her jewelry, and take her on little dates in the garden, but she isn’t allowed to do them for you? Seems pretty stupid to me. And your game is dumb, if you want to know things about her all you have to do is ask, the poor girl would talk to the walls if they’d talk back.” She takes the pot and pours herself another mug of caf, filling his as well. He doesn’t touch it. “And you say you don’t like her rules but it sounds to me like you’re the one who needed them, she didn’t break any rules you didn’t break first.” 

He crosses his arms in front of him, ready to retort but every response dies on his tongue.

She’s right. 

And he doesn’t want to have to ask her for advice but there’s no one else to ask.

“So what do I do? How do I fix this?” 

She chokes a bit on her caf.

“Fix it? Oh hon, you’ve done a lot of damage in a short amount of time.” 

If she could see through the steel she’d see the way his ears tinged pink in embarrassment. 

“So I shouldn’t do anything?” Even he knows he sounds way too sullen. 

She sighs and contemplates for a moment. 

“Look… normally I’d say yes. But I can’t deny that she seemed happier on days when things were okay with the two of you.”

“So what should I do?” He leans forward a bit in his seat. 

“I’d start with an apology, and you better make it good, especially after what you’ve put her through.” 

“Okay. Tomorrow I will try that.” 

He does, try, that is. The most he gets out is static, a crackle of his modulator before he shuts right up. He’s pretty sure you notice. 

“And then, no more lies. No more beating around the bush. If you’re going to put her through this again you need to be certain and you need to be honest. No more pretending it’s just physical, you tell her exactly what you want and exactly how you feel.”

He also tried that. After Kodo had struck you he had pulled together all of his resolve and told himself that he would just spit it out. Instead he had accidentally insulted you and threatened your husband. 

“Okay, I can do that. Umm… What about Kodo?” She takes another sip as he speaks.

“What about him?” 

“Should I not take into account the fact that she’s married?” 

She laughs, a genuine chuckle. 

“Have you seen them together? She looks at him like he’s some mud that she’s accidentally stepped in. Look, if they were happy together, or if I ever thought they could work it out then I might tell you to back off but trust me, those two will never make it work. He’s a pathetic excuse for a man.”

He’s a bit taken aback by her words. 

“Now go. I’m gonna get some shut-eye, I’d tell you to do the same but I know you won’t.” 

He stands, nodding at her. 

“And take the caf. You need it more than I do, if you’re gonna insist on not sleeping.” She sets hers down as she stretches her arms above her head. He takes his mug gratefully in his hands. 

“...Thank you.” 

She only nods in response, he opens the door of her quarters.

“Mandalorian.” 

His hand is on the doorknob as he turns to look back at the woman. 

“Don’t play with her. Either leave her alone or put in the effort.”

He hesitates for a moment before he leaves. 

✩

When your eyes flutter open the first thing you think is that your face should be hurting, your lip should be much more swollen. 

But when your fingers poke at your lip you find it to be mostly healed. 

You stand and leave the closet, walking over to the mirror and inspecting your wounds. There’s no trace of the red welt you would have thought you’d have. The only trace of the incident is a faint pink and white line through your lip. 

Finding the vial on the bed you carefully walk over to the mirror and apply another layer to the mark as Elaine and Lysa knock once as a warning before stepping into the room. You set the tube down on the vanity. 

It’s another hazy morning. 

They really are all blending together when you don’t have things to do. 

You’re dressed in a lacy orange gown. It’s flowy and cool, it seems like it would be perfect for a day in the gardens. Before you even realize what you’re doing you turn to Elaine. 

“Would you like to have tea with me today?” You have no idea what inspires you to ask such a question and you’re sure she’ll say no. That she’ll tell you it isn’t proper for a servant to do such a thing with you but instead she nods.

“That would be lovely, my lady. Where would you like to have it?” She wipes her hands on the front of her dress as she gives you a patient smile. 

“How about the gardens? There’s that gazebo by the water we could sit at.”

✩

You have no idea when she instructed someone to set it up but as the two of you walk towards the gardens there is miraculously already a table with chairs set up inside. A tray of tea steaming in the center of it all. 

You walk in silence, in all honestly it would probably be a comfortable silence if it weren’t for the looming presence of the Mandalorian behind you. Once the two of you step into the wooden structure, taking your seats you clear your throat, awkwardly, seeing him standing beside you in your peripherals. 

Elaine stares at him and the both of you sit, looking at each other uncomfortably until you finally turn and speak to him. 

“Can we have some privacy?” You shoot him a look as you say it and he takes a single, theatrical step back. 

Jackass. 

You’re about to just give up, he’s never wavered previously, why would he start now? But Elaine speaks up.

“I believe she asked for privacy.” 

You lean over towards her to tell her it’s useless, there’s no sense in arguing with him but your eyes go wide as he begins to walk away. You turn to stare at Elaine like she just performed an act of god. 

As the Mandalorian starts walking along the edge of the water you can’t seem to pick your jaw up off the floor, you have more questions than ever for her but none of them seem to flow, so she speaks first. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened at dinner last night?” She’s pouring tea into the mugs, mixing a generous amount of sugar and cream into yours. 

“You heard about that?” The nearly invisible mark on your face stings at the memory.

“Servants talk, I’m afraid it was inevitable that I would hear of it. Do you want to tell me what happened?” She hands you the mug and you take it in both your hands. 

She doesn’t ask if you’re okay. 

Like she knows you couldn’t possibly be. 

“Not really. There isn’t much to talk about, it all happened really fast.” You take a sip, it’s sweet just like the caf she makes you, it warms your tongue and puts you at ease. 

She hums softly, sipping her own, much darker tea. 

“He’s always had a temper that one, the king and queen did not keep a close enough eye on him growing up, and when no one ever says no it’s easy to quickly become a little monster.” She frowns as she speaks and you have to fight to keep the surprised look off your face, the servants never spoke ill of him.

You know this is probably a dangerous conversation but at this point you’re so lonely and things can’t possibly get worse. 

“Honestly, I’m just surprised it didn’t happen sooner. I knew with his pattern of behavior it was inevitable.” You mutter.

She has a breathy sad laugh. 

“Smart girl.” She raises her cup towards Mando. He looks like a kid being left out of a game on the playground as he kicks a stone into the lake. “He seems more upset about it than you.” She raises her eyebrows, now you’re really treading dangerous waters. 

“Mando? He doesn’t care, I think he just doesn’t want me getting banged up because it makes him look like he’s bad at his job.” Deep down you know that isn’t the case.

“Really? So he wasn’t the one who tore that book in half that I found in the hallway this morning?” She takes another sip as she stares at him out across the water, you choke on your tea.

“In half?” Your voice is a shocked whisper. It had been by no means a short book. It had been a hardcover, thick encyclopedia. 

“In half. Took Leo quite some time to pick up all that shredded paper.” She chuckles. Setting down her mug as she stares at you with an intensity you weren’t prepared for. 

She takes a deep breath that has you nervously tapping your nails against your cup. 

“I know that it’s hard, being in your position, to find people to confide in. But if you ever need to talk about something that’s bothering you, I am available, my lady. And I can be extremely discreet.” She folds her hands in her lap as you stare down at them. Unable to meet her gaze. 

What a breath of fresh air it would be, to have a friend, with no other complicated feelings. But you can’t just tell her what you’ve done. 

“I am not blind, princess. It’s my job to make sure you’re okay. And I know for a fact that you were doing more than okay for a few days and in an instant I saw all of that disappear.” She tilts her head down so she’s in your eyeline and you’re sure your face has a look of guilt on it. 

If it was just your life on the line you’d probably tell her everything. Just to get it out. But it’s not just your life, it’s his. You shudder as you imagine the things Kodo would do to him if he found out. 

But you could twist the truth. 

Tell her harmless details and maybe still find some comfort.

“He had been my friend. Briefly.” Your words are careful and deliberate. 

She nods, picking up her glass once more. Staying silent as an invitation for you to keep going. 

“At least… I thought he was my friend. Now I sort of think he might have just been messing with me.” You’re still being cautious with every detail you reveal. Keeping it simple and innocent. “And I guess he got bored. It’s confusing, I can’t keep up with him, it makes my head spin because he keeps changing.”

“Changing?”

She picks up the teapot, refilling your mugs. 

“It’s… hard to explain. It’s like, he’s a different person everyday. Some days he can’t stand me and some days he-“ You manage to catch yourself before you go one step too far. “Some days he cares for me. I’m starting to wonder if he just enjoys making me miserable.” You pour another spoonful of sugar into your mug. 

“I think he cares for you very much.” She says it so matter of factly that you almost roll your eyes at the notion.

“I doubt that. If that is the case he has a really fucked up way of showing it.”

“Look at him.” She nods out towards the lake and when you turn he’s crouched down next to the edge of the water. 

He’s deadly still for a moment and then he slowly reaches down and scoops something up from the surface of the water. Holding it close to his helmet as he stands. Completely focused on whatever is in his hand. 

He looks strangely domesticated. 

You watch as what you now realize is a frog, jumps out of his hand back into the lake. 

He stares at his empty palm for a long time. 

“He looks like a lost puppy without you. I have to wonder what he was doing before he took this job because it seems like he doesn't know what to do with himself when he isn’t wagging his tail and trailing behind you.” She chuckles and you can’t help but laugh softly with her. 

It feels good to laugh. 

It feels less good to blurt out your next question. 

“Have you ever, umm… talked to him?” You don’t want to ask it, it feels so childish but you can’t help it as you turn back to face her, hoping there isn’t any lingering jealousy in your tone. 

“A little bit. Enough to know that I’m right, he does care for you.” 

You cough awkwardly. 

“What did he say?”

You catch her smirk right before she takes another sip. 

“Mostly he seemed to have a lot of excuses. But I think his real issue is just that he’s scared.”

Huh. 

It’s difficult to picture him scared of anything. 

“Scared?”

“I think this is a conversation you should be having with him.”

“But he won’t talk to me, the first time he’s spoken to me all week was only because of what Kodo did.”

“It isn’t my place to tell you how to deal with him. I just know that you seemed happier when things were good between the two of you.” 

It’s quiet for a few minutes as the two if you drink and you come to terms with her words. She speaks first.

“He doesn’t sleep either.” 

“What?”

“The Mandalorian. He isn’t sleeping. He just sits in front of your door all night.”

You had suspected that to be the case but the confirmation makes your heart skip a beat. 

“He just sits there? What is he doing?”

“I only see him there in passing, I do a lot of my errands at night, I’m more productive when I’m the only one roaming the castle. It seems like he’s just waiting for you.” 

You frown. 

“Waiting for me to do what?”

She laughs. 

“He’s just waiting for you.”

There’s that ache in your chest. She leans forward to give you a sympathetic look, your pain must show on your face. 

“How about we talk about something else for a bit?” Her voice is soft and comforting as you nod. 

“What about you, do you have a special someone?” You laugh for a moment until you realize your slip up and the color drains from your face. “Like, a friend.”

Real smooth, dummy. 

She doesn’t seem fazed though as she grins. 

“Yeah, I’ve got a special friend.” She laughs to herself and you relax a bit. She looks towards the lake and back at you before raising her eyebrows. He’s walking back over as she changes the subject. “What are you planning on wearing tomorrow?”

You can’t help but laugh. 

“How should I know? You and Lysa always pick for me.” She rolls her eyes at your response. 

“I meant to the ball.”

The confusion must be apparent on your face because she sighs. 

“Of course no one told you. Maker, is anyone else in the castle capable of treating you like a person other than me?” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Kodo’s birthday is tomorrow. He makes a big deal of it every year, it’s a huge party, you of course will be expected to attend.”

You don’t bother stifling your groan.

“And I absolutely have to go to this?” 

She pats your knee as she leans back in her chair, eyeing the Mandalorian up and down as he walks into the gazebo, standing on the opposite side of it, away from the two of you. 

“I’m afraid you do, but don’t fret, he’s always so preoccupied during this thing that you won’t have to worry about staying for long. You’ll just need to make an appearance as his wife for a bit and you should be able to leave after a few hours if you'd like. It tends to get a bit rowdy as the night goes on so I suggest getting out once the opportunity presents itself.” 

You nod, this must be is what it feels like to have a friend. 

It makes you realize that you and the Mandalorian had never really been friends, that was completely different than what this was. With him there was always something more there, something demanding your attention that you always managed to ignore. With Elaine it’s easy to just talk without any other feelings lingering in the air. 

“I suppose I will wear whatever you decide is best.” You give her a grin.

“If that is what you wish.”

“But not blue.” She raises an eyebrow as you say that but she’s smirking.

“Excellent choice.”

Your eyes dart over to the Mandalorian, he’s facing away from the two of you, giving you a false sense of privacy as you look back to Elaine. 

“And not green.” 

“As you wish, my lady.” 

You don’t talk about much else of importance after that. She tells you that she wants to make dresses someday, and you tell her about some of the romance novels you’ve read. 

The Mandalorian stays in the gazebo, a reminder to keep things light. 

She tells you that Lysa is a rather talented piano player, and that Leodall dreams of one day becoming a lord or a duke. It’s nice, casual. You want to do it again at some point and when you tell her that, she happily agrees. 

Eventually she walks you back to the castle, he walks behind the two of you, always just out of reach until you make it back inside.

You can’t help it.

You hug her.

Mumbling a thank you, because you feel worlds better after having a conversation with someone with no tensions and no ulterior motives. 

She departs and you walk to the library, reading another cheesy romance novel at your drawing table until the sun has set. 

He still doesn’t speak, every so often he’ll pace the length of the room at one point you’re pretty sure he trips over nothing. How odd. You return to your quarters as always, ready to turn in for the night.

✩

Except you can’t.

You pace back and forth throughout your room. Your bare feet shuffling across the cool wood floors. 

He’s ruining your sleep again. 

Because now you can’t close your eyes without thinking about how he’s out there, waiting for you. 

You had wanted comfort and maybe even closure from Elaine but instead you’re more confused than ever. 

He wants you, he doesn’t want you, he hates you, he’s willing to die for you. None of it makes sense and he’s out there. 

Your chest hurts thinking about him all alone out there every night. Even if he hates you, and doesn’t want you. 

You’d feel better if he was at least sleeping out there. But no, he’s awake and aware and always there. 

Is he listening in? Has he turned up the helmet to listen to the soft patter of your footsteps? Why would he be doing that? He’s supposed to not care about you, to not want you. But according to Elaine that isn’t the case? Every single hour he gets more and more confusing, you want to scream at him. You want to punch him in his stupid Beskar face. (Mostly because you know it wouldn’t really hurt him all that bad.) You want to demand answers, demand he leave you alone, or demand he take it all back.

Could you forgive him?

You’re pretty sure you want to forgive him.

You just aren’t sure if you can. 

That is, of course, if he ever apologizes. 

Does he want to apologize?

Why would he have said all those things in the first place if he didn’t mean them?

You don’t remember opening the door. But right now you’re staring down at him and he’s staring up at you, so you must have at one point. He’s sitting with his legs out in front of him as you take a step back, leaving the door open. 

A silent invitation in. 

You’re worried for a moment that he isn’t going to accept it but he slowly gets to his feet. Stretching his arms back a bit with a groan as he takes a step in. 

You hadn’t seen it before but now you don’t know how you didn't realize how exhausted he looks. You don’t even know how he’s still standing as he stumbles into the room as you close the door, clicking the lock shut. 

His shoulders are slumped forward, his usual imposing posture is completely gone and his helmet keeps tilting downwards before jolting back up, like he’s barely keeping his eyes open. 

It’s torture, never being able to stay angry at him. 

You had no plan when you’d let him in. Maybe yell at him, demand answers, demand he free you of this curse that is wanting to be his. 

But you can’t do that. Not when he’s looking around like he doesn’t even know where he is. Maker, when was the last time he slept? 

Reaching forward you take his hand, leading him over to the bed and sitting him down. 

“Mando?” You say it like you’re speaking to a lost child who can’t find their parents. 

He hums softly in response, the helmet tilting up to look at you as you give his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“You’re gonna sleep here. The door is locked so you don’t have to worry about anyone taking off your helmet, okay?”

He nods and your heart stops as his hand comes up to your face. His thumb brushes over the nearly completely faded line on your lip. 

“M’sorry… ner sarad’ika. Bid ni ceta.” His voice is a warm sleepy drawl and you have to close your eyes so he doesn’t see the pained look you have when he starts speaking in that soft tone, the gentle one you feel like you haven’t heard in ages, the one that’s just for you. You can’t help but wonder if he’ll remember any of this tomorrow. 

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do this, remember? It was Kodo, not you.” You gingerly pull his hand from your face as you hold his arms, laying him down against the mattress. 

You shouldn’t, not when he’s clearly so vulnerable but you can’t help yourself as you run your knuckles against the cold steel of his helmet, trying to soothe him. 

“That’s not what I’m sorry about mesh’la.” His hands reach forward, asking for you, and you have to use all of your self control to not give in and just hold him. You settle for giving him your hands as you nod. 

You need this to end. It’s too much and you know it’ll be gone in the morning. Once he gets some sleep he’ll be gone again. Standing behind you, your shadow. Not like right now, where he’s in front of you, and needs you. You can’t lose this again, you won’t be able to take it so you start to walk away but he pulls you down so you’re sitting next to him and he’s so gentle about it. He’s so out of it right now, he should be in his default state right now, he’s a trained killer, he should naturally be rough and aggressive with you, but he isn’t. 

Even in this condition he makes a conscious choice to handle you like you might crumble to pieces if he isn’t careful. 

At this point you might. 

“I need to go to bed, Mando. I’ll be in the closet, right there if you need me.” 

His grip on your hands tightens ever so slightly. 

“Y’know that m’sorry, right? I need to know that you know.” His voice cracks on the last word and his voice is laced with a desperation you’ve never heard from him before. You even hear a little sniffle through the modulator.

Maker he must really be sleep deprived. 

It feels like drowning. He’s taking you out into open waters with these words and in the morning he’ll be gone and you’ll be left without a life jacket. 

“I know Mando.” His grip loosens enough for you to stand up. Your voice is strained. “I promise, I know, but I need you to get some sleep now, can you do that for me?”

He hesitates. Like he’s trying to make sure you understand. 

“Okay, sarad’ika.”

He nods as he releases your hands, his shoulders relax and he’s asleep in minutes. Once you’ve certain he’s out cold you go back to the closet, leaving the door cracked in case he needs something as you curl up in your blankets. 

Your hands fish around in the sheets and pillows until you find the book, pulling it out you open it and let the necklace he had given you fall out. Cradling it in your hands you trace the small charm with your fingers. 

Sarad’ika. 

He can’t do that to you. 

He can’t just call you that again after what he did. 

Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover, nothing. 

He decided he wanted to be nothing. So why should he get to say sweet things in Mando’a to you with no repercussions? 

It makes your blood boil as you shove the necklace into one of the pillow cases, getting ready to go back out there and give him a piece of your mind but as you’re about to stand and pull yourself together you can hear rumbling, static snores from the other room.

And you can’t help but crack a smile. 

He sounds like a fucking Wookiee when he snores. 

Something about it makes you lay back down.

Like it reminds you that under all that perfect metal he is still only a man. 

He needs sleep.

So do you. 

Being angry with him can wait until tomorrow. 

tag list : dm or reply to be added!! @stagerightlauren - @dins-riduur-anthe - @littleguy-bendy - @rarachelchel - @laurensnotsparkly -@gerardingurway -@reallyidontcare- @clear-your-mind-and-dream - @estoniacobaltpayne - @buckyandgeraltsupremacy-@cookielovesbook-akie - @diabaroxa - @love-the-abyss - @sasakipsposts - @eclipsedplanet - @fatima-marisa -@somanyminidragons - @dindjarinsmut - @lemonboynsp - @disregardedplant

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

How's about follower kallamar with a squid reader that is the head doctor and a former follower of his

On the day of your indoctrination...an ugly plague was currently infesting he entire cult. It definitely wasn't the best first impression.

You saw so many sick followers shuffling around, trying not to throw up (although some failed miserably) as they went about their daily tasks.

Lamb excuses themselves to go yell at the healthy followers who didn't bother cleaning all the puke lying around, before sending the sick to their beds and shoving thermometers in their mouths.

And of course, an elder decides to die right next to the goddamn shrine...resulting in those still hanging around to vomit at the sight.

Once everything's slightly under control, Lamb rushes back to officially welcome you into the cult, but you're not impressed at all.

"You promised me sanctuary, Lamb. But all I see is illness and death here...was I right to trust you?"

"....you can blame your "bishop" for all of this......I promise this is a safe haven."

You give them the benefit of the doubt, considering they did save you from being sacrificed to Kallamar.

But when asked why his followers chose you, you explained that you're actually a doctor who treated a lot of sicknesses back in Anchordeep. Sore throats, stomach bugs, flu, pox, etc. You were seen as sort of a miracle worker.

Unfortunately Kallamar saw your skills as a threat to his power, insisting only he can perform "miracles" and decide who's worthy of healing...and his fanatics were inclined to agree.

Luckily, your new leader allowed you to take on that role once again without fear of persecution, and you got the plague under control practically overnight.

You've implemented a system where every follower got a regular checkup. Even if they looked or felt fine, it's better to be safe than sorry.

When Lamb started bartering with ???, they gifted you a gold immortality necklace to ensure you didn't die of old age (seriously, they needed your medical expertise).

You already had a skull necklace, but were grateful nevertheless.

Ironically, Kallamar became the most troubling patient when he arrived into the cult, getting sick right off the bat just from his spiraling anxiety.

He hid behind a tree upon seeing you.....and Lamb found him, literally having to drag him over to your medbay (now a small building instead of a single shrub hut) and order you to treat him.

Great Ones forbid he caused a plague as both bishop and follower. They weren't going to tolerate that.

Ofc, he was hesitant to say anything to you, but after quietly treating his stomach ache and changing his bandages...he breaks down sobbing on the cot, begging for forgiveness.

"I-I was wrong. You do..s-so much good work. You were thriving, performing all these miracles, and....a-and I tried to take that all away....why heal me?"

"Kallamar, I'm not holding that against you anymore." You reassure him. "You're free of the Blue Crown's influence. I know you didn't really want me dead, did you?"

"..n-no, my...followers suggested it. Cult morale was low a-after what happened to Leshy and Heket so...I had to do something!"

Whether that revelation made you feel better or worse, you find it in your heart to forgive him, never denying him treatment even if others in the cult disagree.

You wanted to help him. One squid healing another.

To this day, he still feels bad visiting your medbay, but with time he becomes more comfortable approaching you whenever he gets sick.

Soon enough you find out one of the primary causes of his stomach pains.

It's cauliflower stew (while there's a 5% chance of sickness for everyone else who consumes it, his is always at 100% for some reason).

As it turns out he, ironically, has a severe cauliflower intolerance.

Poor guy never knew that was a thing.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

OHSHCAU (Keysmash)

Part 3

Prev

You know how, when the school year starts up, a teacher might get everyone to go around the room and give a couple of vague facts about themselves? Or, even worse, they might split everyone up into teams based on some random, inconsequential factors and they would all be forced to work together on some dumb task? That way they can get to know new people better?

You know how everyone hates that?

Yeah. Marinette thought that, of all people, her fellow high schoolers would understand. But alas, here she was, glaring down Dick because he wanted to do a team-building exercise. Bastard. She was going to shoot him.

With a paintball gun! Because they were playing paintball!

Do not send cops her way! She will introduce neurotoxins to your system!

Anyways, she had no choice but to agree. Debt’s a bitch.

And, maybe, the idea of shooting the Waynes point blank in the face with paintballs would have swayed her regardless, but who knows. The option was never truly given to her, so who’s to say how she would have reacted?

Certainly, the Waynes would never know.

Which was probably for the best. They could end her life in a couple of phone calls.

She hummed as she absently messed with her paintball gun. They had been split off into pairs. Steph was still on the bench thanks to her copious amounts of injuries, unfortunately, so Marinette hadn’t particularly minded who she was going to end up with (she hated all of the Waynes equally, save fucking Tim, who would avoid her, anyway), and had allowed them to all pair off and leave her with the leftovers.

She was regretting that, now, of course.

Dick wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her into his side. “Don’t get too competitive, please?” He said, and he sounded like he was one more ‘fuck you’ away from begging.

She glanced over his shoulder and found Tim making faces at her behind his back. He was supposed to be heading to one of the other nondescript, frankly unnerving steel tunnels that would lead them to a random place on the map. He should be spending this time with Damian so they could discuss their plans. He was not doing any of these things. He had followed Marinette and Dick to their room instead, and she would be concerned about him trying to figure out where they would end up for the sake of a tactical advantage… but, frankly, that was too smart for him.

He had no good reason to be here. How sweet of him to want to see her off.

She looked back at Dick, her eyes gleaming. “Of course I won’t. Only babies get competitive over stuff like this.”

Tim bristled. But his mic was on, so he was unable to say a word in protest. He could turn his face away from the people to mouth the curses he so clearly wanted to scream, but she could just look in another direction.

Her lips twitched into a kind of grin before she tamped it down.

Dick sighed. Deeply. “I’m guessing I can take that as a no.”

“Aw. You know me so well.”

He snickered. “Well, I’d hope so, since I hired you.”

“No one has ever lied to the people hiring them ever,” she said, nodding sagely.

He grinned. “Which is why we went with… atypical hiring practices.”

“You’ve basically kidnapped me and decided to hold my entire future ransom to make me work for you.”

“Shhhhhhhhh.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Oh, Marinette,” a voice called, and she was more than happy to let Steph drag her out from under Dick’s arm, even if this meant that a new arm was wrapped around her waist and a face came to rest close to her own.

Marinette raised an eyebrow, but wasn’t too surprised at the sudden closeness. They’d literally slept together, in the same bed, for days. She could handle a little bit of contact. And, besides, they’d both agreed that it fit their characters (a playful flirt would flirt with a girl next door, and a girl next door would blush and let it happen) and it would draw in more customers. Teenage boys and gay teenage girls would both rather enjoy watching ‘wlw content’ when given the option.

Besides, who doesn’t flirt with their friends a little? Now they got to monetize it. A win.

Marinette rested a lazy arm over Steph’s shoulder, careful not to jostle the microphone hovering by the girl’s chin. She gave it a pointed look, and Steph mouthed the word ‘off’. She untensed a little. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Your mic is off.”

“I didn’t get one,” she said, shrugging.

Steph blinked. “Oh. I can give you mine.”

“Well, if I accept that, how am I going to insult Tim without the audience knowing?”

Dick snickered. “You could try not insulting him.”

Marinette gave him a blank look.

He shrugged as if to say ‘well, I tried’. Which, did he really?

But her attention was quickly stolen away when Steph pulled something out from behind her ear and then presented it to Marinette, who looked at it how one might look at a dead rat their cat had just brought in.

“What the hell is that?”

“A mic,” Dick offered.

She glared at him out of the corner of her eyes, and then snapped her attention back to Steph when the girl leaned in to fit the device over her ear. “You’re not putting that on me.”

“What, is the scientist scared of technology?” teased Dick.

She gritted her teeth. “Chemicals are easy to understand. They’re predictable. This? Unreliable. Who knows who's listening in on those wavelengths.”

There was a beat of silence. The two Waynes looked at each other for a moment, something unreadable on their faces.

And then Dick sighed. “Listen, you know how our dad bankrolls the Batman?”

She nodded, still eyeing Steph as if the girl was going to jump her and attach the evil machine to her by force.

“Well, we get a couple of perks. Like this. If anyone tries to hack into these – which, really, why would they? – Batman will be alerted and I’m sure they will never be heard from again… or whatever it is he and his weirdo kids do.”

“Local Batman proves that all cops are corrupt,” she said, still eyeing it warily.

“Not a cop,” said Steph.

“Not corrupt,” said Dick.

She wasn’t sure who was being less realistic.

And it didn’t matter what they said, either way.

Batman was exactly the person she was trying to avoid, thank you very much. But it wasn’t like she could just say that, because being openly wary of the Batman in front of rich people was just begging for them to be suspicious of you. They were too used to their peers being affiliated with the Court of Owls. So, reluctantly, she let Steph place the mic.

The girl drew back slightly once she was sure everything was in place (and, more importantly, that it would stay in place even while they were all running around).

Steph grinned. “There. Done. All you’ve got to do now is press the button and you’ll be live. Anyways. Blush like I said something suuuuper hot, m’kay? They’re staring.”

“Maybe if you do something hot, I will.”

She hummed thoughtfully before she brought her free hand up to cradle Marinette’s face. She tilted her head up, her thumb caressing her cheek, their noses brushing. A quiet click sounded next to her ear as her headpiece was turned on.

“Fixed,” Steph said. Quiet, but close enough to the mic hovering by Marinette’s chin for their audience to hear.

“Thanks,” Marinette mumbled. Thank god she had melanin to hide the reddening of her face somewhat, but she was pretty sure it was obvious regardless.

“Anytime,” Steph teased, going so far as to press a kiss to Marinette’s nose before drawing back. She glanced at Dick. “Your mic is off, too.”

“What, not going to fix mine for me?” Dick joked, lifting a lazy hand to flick the knob by his ear.

Steph snorted. “I’d rather die.”

Dick grinned and immediately tugged Marinette closer to him again. Woe is her. If only she could retaliate by beating his ass like she so wants to do. She hates debt. Thankfully, he didn’t wrap an arm around her this time, instead he let her go in favor of crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re just jealous that you don’t get to teach this sweet little underclassman the ropes.”

Marinette was fighting a valiant battle with her face, trying to keep the unimpressed annoyance off of it. “You’re so kind.”

“Of course! It’s my job as the club leader to make sure that your introduction to the group goes smoothly!”

They wouldn’t be bothering with all of this otherwise.

For you see, a large part of being a Host was based around how physically attractive you were, and if they wanted her to be popular enough to pay off her debt, they would have to introduce her to the potential customers in a way that would draw their attention in that way. So, it had been decided that Marinette’s official introduction should be some kind of physical activity. Especially since their clients were all fellow teens, and likely would see a bunch of people fighting for their lives in slightly skimpy clothes and go ‘ooooooooooh’.

Steph rolled her eyes so hard she must have seen her brain back there. “It would have been easier if we’d just done a pool party.”

“My! A pool party?! Steph, have you no shame? What about her innocence?!”

“Dick. She’s wearing a crop top and yoga pants.”

“A crop top, yoga pants, and tasteful armor,” said Dick. His attempts at defending her honor were… definitely attempts. Marinette could give him that.

Marinette crossed her arms over her chest, grinning. “Would you prefer I work out in a hoodie and sweats?”

“Well,” said Steph. She brought her hands up to press against her own chest, winking. “I don’t want that.”

A glance up at the crowd showed that the people had caught the jist of what she’d said thanks to the overdramatic body language she had opted for. Thankfully. Marinette wasn’t sure how to naturally repeat that for the sake of the people watching.

Her eyes caught on one particular person in the crowd, though.

Fu, leaning against his cane heavily, watching her.

“Alright, Steph, stop flirting with the new recruit,” Dick said, slinging his arm over Marinette’s shoulders again, tugging her closer to his side. “Shoo. Scram. Other synonyms that start with ‘s’. I need to teach her how to shoot – shoot! No, wait, I’m thinking of ‘shoo’, and I’m pretty sure I already said that. Anyways. Leave so I can teach her.”

Marinette’s head jerked around to look at him, her eyebrows disappearing behind her hairline. “I know how to shoot. You just…”

She pointed her paintball gun at a nearby wall and pulled the trigger. A disappointed look crossed her face when, despite the gun clicking to tell her that the trigger was working, nothing came out.

“Hm,” she said, eloquently.

He snickered. “Well, I know why that happened, but before we fix that…” He reached a hand out to adjust her fingers. “Let’s not keep our fingers on the trigger. Unless you want to shoot at anything that dares to surprise you.”

Marinette absolutely wanted that. Unfortunately, she couldn’t say that while in character, so she was stuck smiling and saying, “Thanks, Richard.”

“Dick,” he corrected lightly, as usual.

“You don’t understand how much I can not call you that,” she said. Even if Dick was, often, a dick, and she didn’t usually mind going with whatever nickname or name someone called themself, it’s hard to say the word and still come across as demure.

“Well, then, you can call me something else. How does ‘my liege’ sound?”

Marinette snickered into her hand. “Terrible, King.”

“Oh. Hate that.”

“Got it, Queen.”

He sighed.

“Themporer?” she tried, batting her eyelashes.

“How many of those do you have?”

“So many, gender nonspecific monarch.”

“That one feels like a stretch.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, it is a bit of a mouthful.”

“You know, I’m starting to realize that you use humor to stall.”

Marinette’s face flushed at the direct callout. That had been unnecessary. And she couldn’t even curse him out for it. She hated life.

Whatever. She’d roll with it (not like she had any other choices). She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “What do you mean? I was trying to figure out your royal-title-specific pronoun preferences! I had only the best of intentions.”

“Of course, of course. Pretend to get ready to shoot your gun.”

Marinette huffed, mumbling that he was ‘no fun’ as she lifted her paintball gun.

He walked around her slowly, knocking his foot against the inside of her own until she moved them to be shoulder width apart, bending her arms so the recoil wouldn’t hurt as much, bending her knees slightly so she wouldn’t fall over at the lightest of hits…

“You sure know a lot about this,” Marinette said, eyeing him warily.

“Dad made me take some self-defense classes after I got held for ransom for the eight and a half-th time.”

“Eight times is a lot but I guess that’s still surprisingly competent for hi – wait, half-th?”

“Yeah!” he said, and then did not elaborate.

She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting.

He checked her form one last time before nodding to himself. He squinted at her gun for a moment, before cringing.

“I – uh – I’m not used to turning off the safety from an outsider’s point of view…”

“Then here,” she said, starting to stand up straighter and hand it over to him, only for him to rapidly shake his head.

“No, no, no, we need you in that position for as long as possible to get your body used to it.”

Marinette fought back a grimace, her eyes briefly flicking to the people still watching them intently. Dick, as the self-proclaimed ‘king’ of the Host Club, was easily the most popular among guests. She did not want to put a target on her back by looking like she was trying to come onto him. Or because it might look like he was coming onto her. She hated this fucking job. They were coworkers, damn it. She shouldn’t be stressing about getting, like, Court of Owls-style assassinated for being near him!

“Just – just… do it quick,” she said.

He nodded sharply.

Arms wrapped around her from behind, a chin coming to rest upon her shoulder. Warm breath just barely wafted over the side of her neck, earning a few goosebumps. His hands ghosted over the back of her own, briefly, fixing the positioning of her fingers once again (he really didn’t like her tendency to hang onto the trigger, apparently) before flicking the safety off.

He pulled back the second everything was in order, hands up like he was already actively surrendering. They sent the people watching them mildly embarrassed looks. It isn’t doing them much good, though.

Quick! Take legitimacy away from the intimacy!

“I need to stop bringing desserts from home, you’re getting heavy.”

Dick spluttered. “What?”

“I said what I said.”

She would apologize later.

… wait, would Babs count mental damage as adding to her debt?

She was going to apologize so profusely later.

Dick sighed, running a hand through his hair, briefly pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Tell me why we made you the girl next door again?”

“Out of ideas,” Marinette said.

“Right, right. Any chance we can change it?”

“Well, you’re the king and all, you can choose,” she said, before winking and blowing a kiss to the people up on the viewing platform. “But, hey, everyone knows that most ‘harsh’ people are just hurt people trying to protect themselves from more harm. I’m sure that, with the right person, I could actually be the soft, kind person I portray. After all, every act needs at least a little bit of truth to work, right?”

She glanced at Dick out of the corner of her eyes. He gave the barest trace of a nod.

Good.

She had a bit of a reputation in the school. Not really because she was outright mean to people – she would never say half the shit she said around Adrien and the host club members to people she didn’t know, not without good reason – but because pretty much every student knew about her… antagonistic relationship with Tim. Because during the last finals season they had only been a step above fistfighting in the middle of the hallway. And not even because they had been scared of punishment or expulsion, but instead because Duke and Steph had physically dragged Tim away before he could jump at her.

Whatever. It was totally water under the bridge and she definitely didn’t want him dead anymore.

(Yes, Tim and Marinette could just put aside their differences, and show that they had changed… but Marinette would rather just kill him, to be honest.)

Regardless, it would be hard to convince the general population that the person that had almost fought another member was all that shy and kind. So, they needed to rework her image. Recontextualize her personality.

Whether or not Marinette or any of the other host club members really believed what she was saying didn’t matter, all that mattered was that their guests believed it. Thankfully, they had years worth of toxic media to back up their claims, and the rich kids who had never had real reason to distrust what they’d been told fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

Great. The goal for today is done. Now, if only she could get out of this stupid paintball tournament. She has changed her mind. A chance of shooting Tim in the face is not worth having to simulate a battle.

Maybe if she annoys Dick enough he might just call it off?

She watched him out of the corner of her eyes as they continued down the hallway. He caught her stare and, instead of being confused or upset or uncomfortable, sent her a tiny smile.

Yeah, she didn’t think it would work. You can’t annoy someone with as many younger siblings as he has. They are immune to outside annoyances by this age, she is pretty sure.

There’s no getting out of this.

She almost laughed. Story of her fucking life.

Dick rested his hand on the doorknob, glancing back at her.

“Ready?”

She flashed a wink. “As I’ll ever be.”

Their door opened up into what seemed to be a trench, carved into the ground. Once they had clambered out of the trench, their clothes already stained with dirt (at least she didn’t have to pay for any of it), they found themselves in a heavily wooded area, with a couple of concrete structures dotted around.

She walked to a nearby tree. All of them looked long dead, blackened, as if they had been burned. As if this was a real battlefield.

She rapped her knuckles against it lightly, and wasn’t surprised to find that, whatever it was made of, it wasn’t organic material. Judging by the sound, she would guess styrofoam, paper mache, paint, and a dream.

A quick check of one of the structures revealed it to have no ceiling.

The entire world around them was fabricated to give the people so far above them, standing on the glass and peering down at them with excited grins she didn’t want to look at, a good view of what was going on. No leaves, no roofs, nothing was allowed to take away from their fun.

Oh shit, she thought. This is what it feels like to be in the Hunger Games.

Or to be in one of Riddler’s escape rooms, she supposed.

She watched Dick carefully toeing at the dirt, checking to see how far down it went. Whether it could actually be used as padding, or if the metal hidden beneath would give some nasty bruises if someone fell on it for any reason. Such as dramatically falling over when shot ‘dead’.

Her lips twitched into a wry kind of grin. And he’s supposed to be the ‘dumbest’ one. Who does he think that he’s fooling?

It wasn’t until long after he had confirmed that the ground was, in fact, soft enough for them all to drop dead on without issue, that an alarm alerted them to the fact that the grace period was over, and they were now supposed to be hunting each other to the death.

Marinette brushed her bangs away from her eyes, taking advantage of the opportunity to see how the audience had dispersed themselves. They were, largely, grouped into four spots. No guesses why. Sureeeeeely not because this was where the four pairs of competitors were…

Okay, that wasn’t fair to the customers. There was no way for them to know that the glass wasn’t a one way mirror like they’d been told. They shouldn’t be aware of the fact that this was all a play that had been planned out well in advance. The Waynes weren’t the types to let on that they weren’t quite as ‘airheaded’ as they often portrayed themselves to be, for whatever reason.

Still… Marinette stretched lazily, rocking back and forth on her feet, trying not to laugh aloud at just how obvious they were all being.

“So, are we heading to the center or skirting around the edges?” she asked.

“Center,” he said, because that was where most of the male clients were, and therefore where Babs and Cass were likely to be. “Let’s see whether there’s a Hunger Games-style cornucopia or something.”

Marinette clicked her tongue lightly. “You can’t tell people what we’re ripping off.”

“I think they already know.”

She huffed, but it’s not as if she genuinely cared.

Without further ado, they were off.

*****

They happened across Babs and Cass in the middle. They seemed to be doing the same thing that Marinette and Dick were, picking around for anything that might be useful. As if the people who had made this place would make an entrance in a spot where they had special items.

“Find anything?” Dick asked, pointing his gun at Babs.

Cass retaliated by pointing her gun at him. He did not seem particularly pleased about this development.

Marinette wasn’t pleased, either, because this meant she had to point her gun at Cass in retaliation. Fuck this script for making her defend Dick Grayson of all people.

Their guests looked to Babs, expecting her to point her gun at Marinette and complete the circle, leading to a dramatic standoff…

Only for Babs to hold up her hands in the universal sign of surrender. “We don’t have to fight,” she said. “It’s better if we don’t. We can’t have Jason or Tim’s teams winning.”

If nothing else, Marinette had to admit that this strategy would have probably worked on her and Dick even if it wasn’t scripted. Because fuck Tim Drake. And, in Dick’s case, Jason, in particular, cannot win, because he would be insufferable about it. They would both take shady deals in a heartbeat if it meant that the other two teams wouldn’t win.

“What do you get from this?” Marinette asked, because it was expected of her.

Cass shrugged. “Fun.”

Valid reason. Marinette (and Dick, too, though she loathed to admit it) could sometimes be fun.

As for Babs…

“If we’re the last two teams, I want to shoot Dick in the face.”

Dick gave a screech of offense, complaining about his ‘beautiful face’. But Marinette sees now downsides! They shook on it before he could get a word in edgewise.

“Alright, team, let’s roll out,” said Babs.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Dick whined.

“No. We are misandry-ing,” Marinette informed him.

“Perfect. Us girlies have to stick together,” Babs joked lightly.

“True. Can’t wait to kill ‘my liege’ for the sake of women everywhere,” Marinette said, snickering to herself.

Dick snorted at the ‘my liege’ callback, and then seemed to process what she had said. He pressed a hand to his chest. “Excuse you, I’m a girlie, too.”

“Woo, slay queen,” Marinette deadpanned. And then she frowned to herself. “Is ‘my liege’ a gendered term?”

“I… think so?” said Babs. The grammar rules for royalty is not the kind of thing the average teenager is looking up, after all. And, if Babs doesn’t know, then Cass (ESL speaker) and Dick (a liar pretending to be the ‘dumb one’ in a group already known for being stupid) had no shot. Pain. She must live without knowing for the next few hours. Why does god hate her so? Truly, she has suffered more than Jesus.

… perhaps it is jokes like that that make god hate her.

Whatever. She did not believe in Him, therefore He could not hurt her.

Anyways.

“Let’s roll out, then, I guess,” she said.

“Only I’m allowed to make that joke,” said Babs.

Marinette blinked. And then her face reddened. “Oh — I—!”

Cass shook her head in mock disappointment.

Marinette huffed. “Is it too late to un-team?”

“Nah, we shook on it, it’s binding,” Babs said.

Well. If that’s the case. They rolled ou— started off in search of others.

It was, honestly, a lot of meandering around. If they managed to go in the right direction too many times, the illusion would break, after all.

But, if nothing ‘entertaining’ was happening, they needed to work extra hard to have interesting conversations to listen in on. Which was hard. Usually, they entertained their guests by flirting, which was easy and didn’t take that much mental energy, but that was no longer really an option. They weren’t going to flirt with each other, especially since Dick and Cass were siblings and Dick and Babs were exes (Dick once again ruining things for everyone, shame on him). So…

Marinette walked alongside Babs. “If you don’t mind me asking, how the heck are you able to use your wheelchair when the ground is like this?” she said. The wheels didn’t look all that special, after all – it was all clearly high-quality, don’t get her wrong, but it wasn’t like she was looking at the wheelchair version of four wheel drive. And the gun in her lap was barely even moving.

“That’s the most fucked up question anyone’s ever asked me,” deadpanned Babs.

Marinette huffed. “Now, I just don’t think that’s true.”

“When have I ever lied?”

“I’m still convinced that the debt was a scam,” she sniffed.

Babs rolled her eyes but distinctly didn’t deny it. Because she couldn’t, clearly, not because she just didn’t feel that this was worth her time or energy. “This isn’t any worse than going down sidewalks.”

Marinette envisioned the Average Gotham Sidewalk. Then looked at the ground. She supposed that the sticks kind of resembled used syringes, now that she thought about it, and the dirt was surprisingly much smoother than the pothole-riddled concrete.

“Oh,” she said. “Okay, makes sense, yeah.”

Well. She had done her job. Someone else needs to pick up the slack, now.

Babs sent her a flat look that said she needed to say something that would interest the audience, not just her. She fought the urge to grumble under her breath. The microphone would pick that up, too.

She turned to look at Dick.

“Okay, philosophical question: if you are aware that you are in denial, is it really denial, or is it a weird form of acceptance?”

It was silent for a moment.

“Er… I guess… acceptance?”

“But then it’s not denial. Different stage,” Cass said.

“But if you’re aware of it, it can’t be denial,” Dick argued.

Babs sighed. “How ‘aware’ is this ‘awareness’? Because, I’m pretty sure, even people in denial kind of know things are weird.”

“Nonono, you’re aware of the denial,” said Marinette. “Like, you know the thing you’re in denial about is bad and you go ‘nahhhhh’. But it’s a conscious decision.”

“Then… ugh. Denial, I guess.”

Babs and Cass started arguing. Marinette was pretty sure this was the most talkative and passionate she had ever seen Cass.

As for the guests… they were either arguing vehemently themselves or watching other people argue with amused grins.

Marinette, discreetly, gave a little bow in Dick’s direction. He gave a huff of laughter.

By the time they stumbled across another person, Cass seemed pissed off enough to go all out. This wasn’t intentional, but it was still funny to watch Duke go from relatively calm and in control to immediately ducking behind a tree for cover for fear of death.

Until he started firing at them all, too, and they were forced to book it to the nearest shelter.

You might argue that they were cowards, and should help out Cass, and you’d be right, but…

They wouldn’t be much help, to be honest.

The way Duke and Cass were fighting was insane. Like they already knew what each other’s movements were going to be ahead of time, and thus were more intent on waiting for the other to slip up than outright outsmarting each other.

Marinette whistled lowly. “How often do you guys come here?”

“Here? This is the first time, actually,” said Dick, brightly. “But we have something like this back at the Manor.”

She hated rich people.

(This fact has been made abundantly clear over the past few chapters, but she would like to say it again. And again. For as many times as it would take for them to stop pulling Rich People Shit.)

“Woooow,” she said, trying to infuse as much fake cheeriness into her tone as was physically possible when her main thought was about how, technically, friendly fire is possible here. “What a perfectly amazing use of your money.”

He nodded his agreement. Whether or not it was joking did not matter when her blood was boiling beneath her skin. She started to lift her gun, intent on either helping Cass or betraying both Cass and Duke at once, only for a stray bullet to nail the wall by her head the moment she started to poke her head out.

She stared at the purple paint for a moment, eyes wide, before slowly shrinking back into hiding.

She was still pissed off, though!

Before her eyes could drift to Babs and she could weigh the moral implications of sending her out first, a handful of skittles was shoved in front of her face.

“Want some?” said Jason.

She nodded, taking all of the red ones and popping them in her mouth. Dick did the same, but with the green pieces, like a weirdo (who the hell prefers green?). Babs wasn’t nearly as picky, just taking a handful of the rest and popping them like pills.

And then she started to lift her gun.

Marinette nearly choked on her sweet treat.

“JASON?!” Dick yelped.

They scrambled for their own guns.

Jason managed to get a shot off on Babs before he was covered in yellow. Maybe they shot him more times than was strictly necessary, but that was what he deserved for using Skittles against them. Honestly, the fact that Dick didn’t believe in the death penalty was the only thing saving him right now.

As for Marinette… well, she had been too intent on looting his ‘corpse’ for more candy to bother with murdering him via paintball gun. After all, what if the Skittles ended up getting blood or — god forbid — paint on them? She wouldn’t even be able to kill him in retaliation for messing up her snack.

She grumbled when she found paintballs, but pocketed them for extra ammo, in case Cass won and needed more.

Then, finally, she procured her prize: a sharing size bag of candy.

Life is good.

Unless you are Jason Todd.

“Maaaaan,” he groaned. “Those are mine, y’know.”

“Shhhhh, you’re a corpse, you can’t speak,” Dick said, holding his hand out for some.

She set the paintballs in his hand instead.

And then watched on in horror as he bit down on one without thinking.

Dick stared at her for a moment, purple dripping from his mouth.

Marinette swallowed down the temptation to joke about him looking like a vampire in favor of frantically looking up whether paintballs were nontoxic or if they were about to cut this paintball tournament short.

… which she wouldn’t mind, actually, now that she thought about it...

She considered the google page saying that they were nontoxic (for humans, at least, apparently they were not good for animals, which Damian was going to be distressed about when he learned), wondering whether an ambulance visit would be added to her debt. And then decided she didn’t want to risk it.

“You’re fine.”

Want to know who wasn’t fine? Cass and Duke. Apparently, in the time it took for everything to settle, Duke and Cass had killed each other off. Or, well, Duke had slipped up and Cass had ‘died’ in solidarity with him. Mildly concerning behavior, but it was a paintball game and therefore has no real indication of actual behaviors. Hopefully. Marinette genuinely liked Cass.

No time to linger on that particular line of thought.

“If Tim wins I’m pulling a Cass,” Marinette told Dick.

Dick raised an eyebrow. “You’d already be ‘dead’ if Tim wins.”

She thought this over. “Then I’ll come back as a zombie and be killed again. Perfect.”

Jason did not seem to find this funny, but maybe he was still bitter about having his Skittles stolen. Dick grinned and, really, that’s all that matters.

“What do you think real life zombies are like?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Nonexistent.”

“Don’t know what I was expecting from the scientist,” he huffed.

“Fiiiiiine,” she said. She thought, long and hard, about what a real life zombie would be like. Blüdhaven got nuked a while back (deserved, fuck Blüdhaven), and she hadn’t yet heard of zombies, so radiation poisoning wasn’t going to do it. So probably an intentional thing — Jurassic Park style experimentation, or something. Which means that the circumstances would be controlled… except zombies would probably escape the labs, if Marinette were to ever see them. The body would have to be very cold to slow down decomposition. It wouldn’t even halt it entirely.

“Gross,” she decided.

Dick stared at her. “All that thought and you come up with ‘gross’?!”

“I’m not wrong. They’d be gross.”

“That is not the point!” he groaned. “Talk about whether you think they’d be fast or slow, strong or weak, intelligent or not! Talk about whether their decomposition would affect them!”

She snickered. “Careful, Richard, or you’re going to make people think you have a brain in there.”

For a moment, he froze. And then he purposefully relaxed, each muscle individually untensing, one by one. He laughed lightly, but it was a tad bit forced (when wasn’t it, though?). “Yeah, the zombies will come after me if they know.”

“Being stupid has its benefits, yeah?”

He chuckled humorlessly.

Before he could come up with a proper response, though, Tim wandered into their area, drawn by the sound of gunfire from Duke and Cass’s fight. Marinette and Dick pointed their guns at him immediately.

Tim narrowed his eyes. He pointed his gun at Marinette, but seemed hesitant.

Marinette fought off a smirk. She loved having plot armor. At the sight of her face, he only seemed more irritated, which was even better.

But there was nothing he could do.

He set his gun down.

“We could take him as hostage,” Dick offered. “See if that lures Damian –.”

“Nah, too risky,” said Marinette. Without any further ado, she shot Tim.

Tim fell over, and not entirely because that was standard for ‘dead’ people. He hugged himself. His dignity, breaking. In a very literal sense.

It was very quiet. Marinette’s hand found its way to her mouth.

Dick looked at her, his eyes wide and horrified.

“I know I hate you, but… I didn’t mean… I forgot that men have… Tim, I’m so sorry.”

Tim made a pitiful sound.

Shakily, he lifted a hand in a thumbs up.

She made a heart with her own hands. This did not seem to help in the slightest but, frankly, there wasn’t much else she could do.

Luckily, she didn’t need to think about it for long before she was distracted — a voice called from behind them: “Found you.”

She whipped around and shot Damian in the chest.

There were a few moments where no one knew what to do. The boy stared at the paint staining his armor bright yellow. Marinette’s grip felt clammy on her gun.

Dick tipped his head to the side consideringly.

She met his eyes.

She was no longer amused by the intelligence lingering in his gaze as he scrutinized her. She narrowed her eyes at him, briefly, daring him to say something. She wasn’t the only one hiding things, after all.

Play along, she told him. Help me fix this ending.

He relaxed his expression carefully.

They had an understanding. Despite Marinette’s supposed incompetence with guns, when startled she was quick to shoot and accurate. Despite Dick constantly acting as if he was dumb, there was clearly a brain hidden somewhere there. They both knew more than they tried to let on. Maybe that was why they didn’t have much trouble identifying each other’s acts… but, so long as their own secrets remained intact, they could keep each others’.

It was a little nerve-wracking, and yet, strangely, nice, to have someone you don’t have to lie to. That can see past it even when you try.

She smirked and lifted her gun. “See? This is why you keep your finger on the trigger, Dick.”

He grinned and held up his hands in surrender.

*****

Marinette and Dick grimaced as a cooler full of paint was poured over their backs. They definitely felt victorious right about now. This was their prize for winning. Yay them.

Sure, they didn’t exactly, genuinely earn the win, but that’s besides the point.

He looked at her. “You’ve got red in your hair.”

She yelped and brought a hand up to try and get it out, only to remember just a second too late that her hands, too, were covered in paint. She stared at the glob of paint-covered hair hanging limp in front of her eyes for a moment, devastated, and then glared at him.

“You did that on purpose.”

“I was just pointing something out for you,” he said ‘innocently’, unable to quite keep himself from smiling.

She hummed, and then slapped her hand onto his hair. He hissed and reflexively his hands flew up to touch the sore spot, only for him to realize that now he had been the one baited into getting paint in his hair.

“Marinette,” he said, smiling sweetly.

For a moment, one could almost see the regret flickering across her features.

And then he rushed forward to try and trap her in a hug. She shrieked, managing to get only a few steps before she was snatched up, dragged into the evil monster. She barely even had time to fight back before she was thrown over his shoulder, only able to yell off-brand curse words and try to writhe around in hopes of freedom – or, at least, in hopes that she could smear her own paint over every part of him she could reach.

Within minutes, they were swirling messes of red, blue, purple, and the occasional scrap of visible skin.

There were people laughing at their antics.

Both of them froze.

They looked up, and found the other members of the Host Club were enjoying the show.

As well as a few guests, but they couldn’t really retaliate against them.

So, Dick set Marinette down and they met each other’s eyes and silently resolved to make up for that by attacking their fellow club members twice as much to compensate.

*****

Marinette heaved a sigh as she sat on a bench, scrubbing paint off her arm with her millionth wet wipe of the day. Where did the green even come from?

It was then that she realized someone was nearing her.

She looked over her shoulder and found…

Well, someone her age. She recognized her, vaguely, from her English class, but their name eluded her.

The girl smiled nervously at Marinette, wringing her hands and somewhat avoiding eye contact. “I – uh – was wondering if you could Host for me sometime?”

Marinette stared at her for a moment, processing.

And then she lit up, practically jumping from her seat in order to shake the girl’s hand.

“That sounds great! What day would you –?”

She drew her hand back, and cringed at the red strings of paint now connecting their hands.

“I… don’t know if I have more wet wipes,” she said, blushing.

The girl smiled, amused. “If you walk me home, I’ll consider it even.”

Marinette hesitantly took her hand again, intertwining their fingers. “Okay. Don’t know if that’s much of a punishment, but if that’s what it takes to repay you…”

~~~~~~~~~~

TBC

Taglist: @ev-cupcake @thatonecroc @toodaloo-kangaroo @fangirlingfanatic

[moaloves]

TXT as buzzfeed unsolved

Yeonjun does not in fact give it up. As in he literally bugs Soobin for a straight month before Soobin snaps and is like “OKAY FINE” but like,,, Soobin isn’t dumb he’s not doing this alone. So he forces their (underage but you know what that’s besides the point) friends into helping them. Kai and Taehyun are all for it but Beomgyu (their resident scaredy cat) is like …uh …no???? But Soobin bribes him with food and threatens him with blackmail so he got on board pretty fast.

Yeonjun forced all of them to film an intro to all of the channel’s and it’s literally the cringiest thing the others have ever seen. Like it’s all of them crammed into Soobin and Yeonjun’s tiny ass dorm room sitting on Soobin’s bed screaming “Hey! It’s the spooky boys!” into the camera with their names edited on as captions with comic sans. They Hate Him.

They gain popularity like crazy fast,,,,it’s five attractive young men with chemistry anyone can see. People fall in love with them bc of their dynamic.

Yeonjun and Taehyun firmly believe in ghosts, Beomgyu says he doesn’t and then end up crying when he hears the wind and crying “Yeonjun hyung!!!!” and Soobin and Kai both think it’s bullshit

So like there’s a bunch of compilations titled things like: Beomgyu being a scaredy-cat for five minutes straight, Soobin and Kai being done with Yeonjun and Taehyun for fifteen minutes, Spooky boys being dumb af for twenty minutes straight and many more.

Once Soobin and Kai set up a prank where there was like a little tube of toothpaste just sitting on a counter in the bathroom of the hotel they were staying in and there was an invisible rope attached to it that Soobin can reach from his bed so when poor Beomgyu gets up in the middle of the night to take a leak he can pull it and make it seem like a ghost did it

Seems funny right?

It was not

Beomgyu cried so hard they had to cut the camera for an entire hour as the rest desperately tried to calm him down On that note there are Beomgyu getting so scared he cried compilations. There are currently six of them.

Poor boy

Occasionally they take requests but that’s rare tbh

Most of their videos go: Yeonjun awake at four am with bloodshot eyes and every light of Yeonbin’s tiny ass apartment turned on and Soobin sitting in the back looking dead inside: “Ok! Guys! There’s this! Murder house! Thing!!” “the lizzie borden house” “YEAH! THAT! And we’re gonna go so here’s all the research I did instead of studying for my finals!” *cue Soobin choking: you didn’t study?!* yeonjun ignores him

Beomgyu, Kai, and Taehyun both get checked out of school like once a week for this and their teachers are always like ??? And they’re just like “time to haunt some spooks” the teachers Hate Them

People are literally like ??? Do yall go to school ???

Also Yeonjun is a dance major and Soobin is an arts major and when their fans find out they beg for covers

So they start a new channel

It’s called something stupid like Spooky Boys Try Things

And they do dumbass challenges on it but they also showcase their musical prowess so that’s fun People fall even more in love with these idiots

They end up getting so big they get to go to VidCon

Which like-

It was a MESS

Beomgyu was sent to go get drinks and he got so lost he literally ended up in an abandoned part of the hotel and he was vlogging the whole thing for their side chanel and it literally went like: “H-hey g-guys… So… I’m *sniffles* l-lost and-and I-I’m a-afraid I’m go-gonna h-have to haunt this place *sniffles* forever and everyone will make fun of me as a g-ghost because o-of it.” and then he breaks down in tears

Taehyun finds him and drags him back by the ear

And like they all tease him bc he got lost but Yeonbin institute a mandatory buddy system afterwards (because for the few minutes that they couldn’t find Beomgyu it was literally terrifying because that’s the underage boy they’re in charge of so they were like where the hell is he)

At the end of the day even if they’re mean as hell to each other they do love each other a lot and it shows up on and off camera (even when SooKai make Beomgyu cry for the fifth time that week )

[charleslee-valentine]

For the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Fanworks Event Day 6: Music is my Life

Ship(s): Radiohead/Vietnita/Brocktop (Chop Top x Stretch)

Word Count: ~1,800

Warnings: Alcohol use, hangovers, abuse mention, mild sexual content.

@texas-chainsaw-fanworks

________

It wasn’t intentional.

Bobby was supposed to be out and back before anybody even noticed he was gone. To just grab a couple drinks and then get the hell out. Easy.

Now, nobody else knew that plan, so did it matter that much when two beers turned to three, then three to four? Probably not. He wasn’t far from home and hadn’t driven anyways. He could be there in time still.

Except he didn’t walk his goofy ass home. He woke up in a pretty girls bed.

She greeted him with a soft, close-lipped smile, “Morning. Didn’t think you’d be up before the afternoon.”

A groan slips past his lips. His head is fucked. Bobby tries to sit up and then lays right back down, rubbing at blurry eyes, “Time?”

“‘Leven thirty. You got somewhere to be, I’ll drive you.” She informs him, sitting on the side of the bed. Her bed.

Bobby should tell her he’s got to get home. But he’s barely awake, and barely able to remember what happened last night either. Speech isn’t coming to him.

He just shakes his head ‘no’.

“Your head still hurtin’ you?” The woman observes, when he nods again producing a little pain-pill bottle from somewhere, maybe the night stand, and giving it to him, “Here. Don’t leave it on an empty stomach. I can make you breakfast too.”

Really, he appreciates the offer. There’s no way in hell he’d lie and say he doesn’t like the attention from this gorgeous lady. But, one thought creeps up in his head and he has to ask, wondering if maybe she’s one of those women that take advantage that his big brother warned him about. After all, she doesn’t seem to be affected by last night in the least.

Maybe she was sober while he wasn’t.

“A-Aren’t you hungover t-too?”

“Sugar, I do that every night. If I still got as fucked up as you, I’d’ve been kicked out by now. My drunk lasts a lot less than yours.” She informs him, kind but a little humored.

That’s when Bobby remembers some. Pretty girl is the disc jockey from the bar. Stretch is her work name. Vanita is her real one. Even that part of her is beautiful.

Okay, so he might be a little pussy whooped, but he can’t help it. She played good music. Actual rock and not the radio approved shit. Alcohol in his system meant he was probably rambling about all the artists and such for hours last night, and she’d done nothing but listen contentedly. And then kiss him.

It was really pretty fun, dancing all night, sharing drinks and cool facts and kisses. Nothing like the other quick hookups he’d had in bathroom stalls and seedy motels. The kinds where they wouldn’t look him in the face or kiss him after they got their rocks off.

Those times had been better than being lonely, but not being hat he wanted. Nothing like miss Vanita.

Even now, she could kick him out. Instead of sitting here close and brushing stray hairs off his face, she could be dragging him out the door.

Not that he even should be still here. He’s a long several hours overdue to be back home. They’ll have noticed by now he ain’t there.

He looks her in her eyes, half squinting from the stubborn headache, “I-I kinda lied. M-My brothers’ll be look-lookin’ for me.”

Stretch seems understanding, putting her sweet hand in his hair like she’d done the night before and makin’ him blush like some kinda idiot, “I can take you home, hon. Promise it won’t bother me none to do it.”

“I-I don’ wanna.” Bobby doesn’t know why he’s honest. Like he’s her puppy or something.

“Mm. I hear ya.” Stretch can sense the sadness in him, the part of the truth that isn’t being told. She just misunderstands it’s meaning a little, “Bobby, are you sure you got somewhere to go? You can tell me the truth.”

“Huh? O-Oh yeah. M-My brother o-o-own’s a real big farm house. We all l-live there. All-“ He counts his siblings on his fingers, including his Sissy even though she doesn’t come home often, “Five of us.”

That doesn’t fully answer her question though. Stretch asks him slowly, “And you’re safe there?”

“S-Sure. Drayton says..says I-I’m in my r-rebellion phase.”

All he means by that is that he’s on a slightly longer leash than he used to be, not getting beat up the same as he used to either. Safe enough. He might get smacked around a little for coming home so late, but it’s nothing miss Stretch outta worry her little self about.

She sure looks like she’s worrying though, with her eyebrows all shot up high on her forehead, “Mister, you told me you were 30 something.”

“Yeh. I-I am.” Bobby tells her bluntly, even though his stutter makes him sound less sure.

“Alright then.” She relaxes quick, looking at him in this infatuated way, the kinda look nobody ever gave him before. A light laugh bounces her strong-frame shoulders, “You are a mystery, Robert Sawyer.”

It sounds nice, but he wants to be sure she isn’t trying to pull one over on him. “I-In a good way?”

“The best.” She promises.

“Cool. Gr-Groovy.” Without the whiskey and beer, he ain’t exactly some Romeo. He feels awkward and dumb, so he tries to make up for it, “Hey, c-can I kiss you?”

Stretch hums with tiniest play of a smirk on her face, “Honey, you done a lot more than that.”

Oh she knows just how to make him blush. It’s nice having someone who challenges him back.

He smiles really genuinely, even though he’s been told his overbite is gross looking, he hopes she won’t mind, “I-It’s polite to ask.”

She must like his smile.

“Then yes, baby. Anytime you like.”

Stretch even initiates the kiss, already holding him in her arms, only taking a little effort to lean in and connect their lips. Everything about her is gentle, but not her kisses. Those are hungry. Fierce.

Dominant.

Bobby makes some kind of a noise like a whimper and a mewl combined. It makes Stretch laugh softly.

Flushed as pink as a peach, he pulls away a little, for the sake of catching his breath as much as to get his bearings back, “Wh-What’s funny?”

Her soft hands never leave his face, “You just weren’t this shy last night, baby. Don’t worry though; I like my boys a little soft.”

Soft isn’t really a word he’s been called before. Or even been allowed to be. In his head, soft translates into pansy ass. To sorry excuse for a brother.

He knows his face must light up like a puppy dog when she says that. Every instinct in his body screams to kiss on her, so he does. Not that he’s usually one to deny things like that, but it seems especially right, being here with this special girl.

He lungs and kisses all over her face. Any inch of skin he can reach gets a smooch.

She’s howling with laughter by the time she gently pushes him off, “Calm down now, mister!”

But he doesn’t want to go far away from uer. The contact and the pressure and the warmth are too nice. He leans on her while his hands get tappy and a couple little noises squeak past his attempts to stop them. That happens when he gets happy. Stretch might have to get used to that.

She doesn’t seem off put at a glance. If anything, the look in her eyes is kinda fond. Loving.

Her fingers card through his long hair again, careful not to catch on any tangles, “You and me gonna party ‘gain soon, sweet thing?”

Bobby shrugs, “M-Maybe once I’m ungrounded. I-I’m gonna be in biiiiig trouble.”

“Even if I come back with ya and explain?” Stretch offers.

That makes him feel silly. People don’t really think it’s normal, him being old as he is and still being pushed around by his big brother. Living with him ‘stead of on his own.

They think that it makes him either some drooling idiot, or a spineless pushover. Like he’s just supposed to walk away from the man that raised him, and his other two brothers that need the extra help. The man feeds him for thirty years, takes care of his brothers and helps with his medicine, and that’s supposed to mean nothing?

Thankfully, Stretch ain’t most people though.

Bobby looks at her all wide eyed, “Y-You’d do that f-for me?”

She sounds real genuine as she explains her reasoning, knowing he needs to heard it to believe it, “Sure, hon. I get it, you been gone all night, but it’s better’n both of our drunk asses winding up in a ditch somewhere. They’ll understand that.”

He nods, and wraps his arms right around her, determined to look in her eyes while he declares, “I-I won’t let ‘em be mean t-to ya. Y-You’re my girl, miss Stretch.”

It was mostly a success. His eyes do that blinky twitchy thing they do, which has always annoyed him, but it doesn’t seem to bother her.

For once, she’s the one between them that blushes “Am I now?”

“Y-Yeah. My..My fave.” He promises, hoping she understands what a high compliment that truly is.

But then she says something that surprises him. “Ain’t always you get to meet the folks this early. That’s gotta be a new record.. Hope I’m not comin’ off too desperate on you.”

As if. Not when Bobby’s around, he thinks. His middle name might as well be desperate (He actually doesn’t officially have one on paper.) It’s awful weird having someone who doesn’t just automatically point out that he’s annoying or blame him for everything. Stretch really thinks she could be too much?

“N-No way. Y-You and me, we c-could be s-soulmates o-or somethin’.” To prove it to her, he belts a line from a Van Morrison song about love, “I'm run into to her like a river strong-“

Music gets to a girl like her. One who knows allll about it from her nights dj-ing at the club. She interrupts him with a kiss.

Strong as all the other ones with even more tongue. There’s intention behind it, a silent but perfectly clear question. An offer to do a repeat of last night, but sober. Bobby gives her some little sounds as confirmation. Moaning little whines.

All the confirmation she needs.

Stretch throws her leg around his waist, using the added leverage to pin Bobby to the mattress and straddle his waist.

Somehow they stayed connected through all that, but she breaks the kiss to ask him, panting, “How much longer b‘fore you hafta go?”

“A-A little while more w-wouldn’t hurt nobody…” He confirms.

It’s true enough. Might get him hurt, but he’s more’n used to that.

Something tells him he ain’t never gonna get used to the feeling of a pretty girl on top of him this way. So he’s sure as hell gonna revel in it.

[bordysbae]

I love your stories for Turcotte. could you please do 12. “why do you hate me?” “you think i hate you?” with him? <3

“frat party”

alex turcotte x f!reader

“you expect me to go to a party at his frat? that’s funny,” you scoff and continue looking back down at your phone. your roommate, abigail, comes over to your side of the dorm and sits on the bed.

“cmon please? i know things ended shitty with alex, but this is gonna be so fun! they have a dj and everything. please y/n? you probably won’t even see him, wisco is a big school!” abigail pleads, and you give into her puppy dog eyes.

“oh fine. and yeah wisco is a big school, but it’s not that big. i guarantee i’ll see him, but it’s been a couple months i need to get out, right?” you ponder. immediately abby jumps up and a smile fills her face. “yes yes yes! now let’s pick out an outfit for you!” she beams while taking your hands and dragging you towards the closet. after slipping on ripped jeans and a tight, low cut, white tank you and abby head out. the walk to the frat is only about fifteen minutes, and you’re used to it by now. alex used to always walk you home from every frat party, and if he was too drunk to walk you home, he’d make sure someone got you back to your dorm safely.

as you enter the brick building, the trashed floors and smell of alcohol fills your senses. you’re taken back by the pungent smell, but soon you get used to it. as abby drags you with her towards her boyfriend, you watch the familiar dark haired boy glow in his limelight. alex is practically the life of every party, which was one of the problems in your guys’ situationship. you wanted to get to know him, yet he was always busy with games and parties.

as his head rotates towards the left, his eyes meet with yours before you’re dragged into the kitchen. your view of alex is interrupted by a borg being shoved in your face, “want some?” your friend asks you. you shake your head and continue looking around for any sign of alex. “y/n cmon let’s have fun, drink a little!” abby chuckles, and you roll your eyes before taking a sip of the red colored vodka in the plastic gallon carton. the sharpie on the outside of the carton says: “borgicious.” the burning sensation from the liquor flowing down your throat shocks your system and makes you more alert.

suddenly you notice your friends giving glances, before tapping your shoulder to turn around. you furrow your brows as they step away from you, but when you rotate around you know exactly why. “hey, y/n,” alex states awkwardly. your breathe hitches. the boy who broke your heart nearly two months ago is standing in front of you.

“alex? why are you talking to me, don’t you like hate me or something?”

“you think i hate you?”

“um yeah? you literally ghosted me out of nowhere and then avoided me like the plague!”

“i don’t hate you, it’s quite the opposite actually,” he says meanwhile scratching the back of his neck nervously. you furrow your brows once again before letting out a heavy sigh. you work up the guts to ask the brave question, “why’d you do it alex? i thought we were getting somewhere, but you just ended things so suddenly?”

“can we talk about this outside? it’s a bit loud,” he suggests, and you nod. you both head to the back porch where a few other strangers are standing. they don’t pay any attention to you and alex, so you two just mind your business.

“i did it because i’m scared. i’m afraid to commit to things because i know myself, and i know you. god i wish i could be a better person for you, but i just don’t trust myself. i know my tendencies and i don’t want to hurt you even more in the long run, so i ended things. i’d rather hurt myself more and see you shine, instead of hurting you even more than i already did. i wanted you to move on so you can be happy,” alex bashfully admits.

your hands suddenly find their way to alex’s cheeks, as your turn his head towards you. “i trust you alex. i know you can change, and i know you have a good soul. during those long nights on facetime and the walks to my dorm after parties, i learned so much about you. i know you can change, and i can help you get rid of the stupid “fuck boy” persona. i promise im not gonna judge you, and it’s okay to open up sometimes alex. theres a reason i chose you out of everyone, i know you alex. i don’t want anyone else, i want you.”

suddenly a soft smile appears on his face, and he rests his forehead on yours, “i knew i chose the right girl, i’ve missed you. can we start over? but this time as boyfriend and girlfriend?” you nod your head, and your lips slowly connect to his. his familiar scent brings joy to your body, and same with him. everyone always knew you guys would end up dating, it was only a matter of time.

[radiowallet]

Eyes Open - Chapter 5

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Amy Oliver (ofc) Summary: Marcus takes a shot in the dark. WC: 2.1K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Canon-typical violence, talk of police work, slow burn, yearning, idiots friends to lovers, financial stressors, second chance romance, workplace romance (sort of), older love interest, single parents, DID I MENTION THE YEARNING?

Series Masterlist II Main Masterlist II Marcus Moreno Masterlist

Cross-Posted to AO3

Part 4 >>> Part 6

For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

----

It is the most unproductive morning Marcus has had since perhaps the days leading up to Missy’s birth. It’s a similar feeling, that low thrum of anxiety as he waited for the inevitable call that would change his life forever. Granted, this is on a much much smaller scale but the fact remains. How could he possibly focus on anything while he waits for his phone to ring? 

He’s a ball of nerves, pacing to and fro across his office floor, the pattern practically worn into the hardwood beneath his feet. With each pass by his desk, he sips from his fourth cup of coffee, lukewarm at best, the caffeine doing little for his nerves or his fatigue. 

He and Miracle Guy had watched through narrowed eyes and muffled breaths until, finally, their suspicions were confirmed. Miracle had made one final play to convince Marcus to let him fly down there and take care of the situation himself, but he held firm, sticking to his guns and calling in the tip to the station.

“We need these men to give up the guy in charge. The threat of them speaking up could be enough to lure their boss out of wherever it is they’re hiding.”

In the end, Miracle Guy agreed, but not before he took a few shots at the failure of police work and overcrowded prison systems. Marcus was usually the first to wield that particular battle cry, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t use a broken system to his advantage every now and again. They stuck around just long enough to watch Chief Baldwin shove each suspect into the back of a squad car before finally parting ways with a slap on the back and a tired smile passed between the two heroes.

Marcus had gone home just long enough to catch a few hours of stolen sleep in a bed that after so many years alone was just now starting to feel too big. When his alarm went off he groaned loud and long before dragging himself into a scalding hot shower, letting the steady beat of the water pressure pound into his lower back. Hot coffee and a silent drive to the office did little to quiet his anxieties, and he knew he’d be on edge until he heard from Amy. 

And it was only partly to do with local police work. 

He’s considering his fifth cup of coffee when his phone rings, the sound sharp where it buzzes across his desk. He doesn’t bother crossing the room, instead calling the tiny piece of aluminum to him with the raise of his hand, relief like butterflies fluttering alongside the beat of his heart when he sees AMY flashing across the screen. He answers with shaky hands, his voice catching at the base of his throat, a smile carving out a home on his lips. 

“Hey, Ames.”

“Hey! I’m so sorry I didn’t call until now. It’s been a zoo over here. Some big arrests were made late last night.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” he hums, noting the pitch to her voice is genuinely higher, but between her lines he can read the truth.

“Yeah. Apparently, a tip was called in about a moving van in a suspicious part of town late last night.” 

In the background, Marcus can hear the distinct flurry of a busy precinct. The shout of officers, the ringing of telephones, someone calling Amy’s name again and again. He swallows around the lump in his throat as the guilt starts to creep up the back of his neck.

“Shit. Are you…are you too busy to talk?”

“Well, there’s a ton of evidence to categorize so that’s been keeping me busy. Plus two of the three arrests have priors big enough that they’re being moved upstate. The other made bail.”

Marcus doesn’t say a word, but fear creeps in to join his guilt.

“Yeah, it’s all pretty boring stuff. I’m so busy with all this paperwork. I probably won’t be done processing the three of them until around 12. If…if you still wanted to talk, that is?”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” he answers quickly, refusing to be bothered by how desperate it sounds to his own ears. “…But before that?” Marcus asks, testing out the waters of what she’s trying to convey.

“Just a lot of paperwork and rubber stamping shit while those guys sit in empty interrogation rooms. Derek isn’t even here to help. Off getting ready for a press conference.” 

“Well, what if I brought you some coffee? Real coffee,” he offers, his smile hopeful despite the charade. 

He swears when she answers back he can hear the same shade of hope. 

“I’d like that.”

——

Amy was only half exaggerating for Marcus’s benefit. The arrests made in the middle of the night had consumed her day, most of which was spent chasing down arrest records and recording each piece of evidence. That’s where she was supposed to be now, sifting through the heavy boxes dumped unceremoniously in the evidence locker. 

Part of her was looking forward to the distraction from the nervous flutter in her heart. 

That same part that was anxiously watching the door for the familiar sight of broad shoulders and an easy smile. 

Marcus’s texts from the night prior had become a matter of contention. She read them through once, twice, then a third time, the butterflies rising and sinking with each pass. Finally, when it was apparent nothing new could be gleaned from the two simple messages, she gave up, turning off the last of the lights and falling into the twin bed tucked into the corner alcove of her living room. 

It was the ring of her cell phone and not her alarm that woke her the next day, Derek’s voice tired but thrumming, a disarming energy he only seemed to have when something big was going down. When she walked into the precinct an hour earlier than usual, a report was thrust into her hands and she spotted one detail almost immediately. A tip that snowballed the three arrests called in late last night.

Right around when Marcus had texted her about giving him a call.

The pieces were starting to click into place after that, the text messages that had her heart flipping took on a new context. She barely had time to laugh at herself before she dove headfirst into her work, the stack of papers on her desk rivaled only by the number of times her name was called. By 9 she was nearly cross-eyed, going in for her third cup of coffee, the taste all together too bitter but still delicious. She took a moment to drink it, willing her heartbeat to slow to something manageable before picking up her phone and cradling it between her ear and shoulder, dialing Marcus’s number with practiced ease.

He had been anxious on the phone, his voice nearly an octave higher, and Amy swore she could hear the smile in his voice when he suggested bringing her coffee. It’s not an offer Marcus makes regularly, the two of them always content to drink from the pot that sits just behind her desk, no matter the number of faces he pulls after every sip. Still, she hates how she wonders if his offer, in all its kind sincerity, was still part of their lie.

There isn’t much time to dwell on any of it. She spots the broad shape of Marcus Moreno’s shoulders pushing through double doors at the front of the building and breaking her train of thought. Amy curses again, this time out loud, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of him, her defenses falling by the wayside when she sees his smile. 

They lock eyes briefly and she smiles, ducking her head to scribble across a post-it note. The message is vague at best, but she’s confident Marcus will understand, and with one more smile sent in his direction she turns away.

——

There are exactly three coffee shops between Heroics headquarters and the 98th precinct. Two chains that serve fine if not overpriced coffee, the menu always reflecting some sort of fad– cold foam, olive oil espresso, pistachio sugar. Things Marcus had no desire to try let alone figure out how to order. 

The third option was small, tucked between a used bookstore and a pawn shop. No sign on the door except for the little plastic one reading OPEN, the rest of the window filled with art; large paintings in bright vibrant colors, smaller self-portraits done in shades of gray, pieces of metal and glass fused together and catching in the sunlight. He had found it by accident one day, stepping inside the doorway to take a phone call and catching the scent of freshly baked pastries.

He had immediately brought Amy a cup, and the two of them had quickly decided the coffee (and the muffin he had brought for them to split) were perfect. It never grew past that, the two of them falling back to Amy’s truly horrendous brew the very next time Marcus stopped by. And even through his grimace, he somehow found himself preferring it.

But he remembered clearly how her eyes had slipped shut, a soft hum, almost like a purr, parting her lips and a deep sort of contentment filling out her features. It would be impossible to forget.

He has that exact order in his hands now, and after catching Amy’s eye, he makes his way to her empty desk, keeping note of the direction she’s moving in, out of the corner of his eye. Waiting for him amongst her clutter is a Post-it note, a number scribbled in the bottom left corner in black pen.

3

And just below that, easily mistaken for a forgotten doodle – a small heart.

Heat blooms in his cheeks, matching the affection pooling in his heart. He exchanges the coffee cups and paper bag for the Post-It, tucking it into his pocket before turning and following in the direction Amy had headed. She’s waiting for him down on the third floor, the low-lit basement enough to conceal the smiles they trade. 

“Hey,” she breathes, and Marcus is quick to match it, his own greeting falling out of him in a hush. He doesn’t hesitate, stepping into her space, close enough to smell her perfume, clean and sweet and mixing perfectly with the notes of coffee on her breath.

She tilts her chin, just enough to look him in the eye, searching for the answer to a question she hasn’t asked. Her bottom lip catches between her teeth, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching up as if to smooth her bite away. He’s hopeless, wondering what it would feel like to let the pad of his thumb drag slowly across the plush pink of her lip. They stay that way for a beat longer, a far more awkward version of their almost kiss, before finally they’re both laughing, bodies falling forward to muffle the sound. 

It feels like enough for them to find their footing, the ground of their friendship solid again beneath their feet. She feels familiar and settled, a comfort in his arms that reminds Marcus that whatever this couldn’t possibly be a mistake. Not as long as Amy kept laughing just like this. 

“Okay,” she starts, her cheeks red and her smile wide, fingers finding the bend of his elbow. “I’ve been dragging my feet on processing these guys. Derek’s already had his go at them and he should be out until this afternoon.”

“How much time can you buy me?”

“The two that are going upstate won’t be moved until 4 at the earliest, but there’s no telling with the one who made bail. Someone claiming to be his girlfriend has been blowing up our phone lines.”

“You think she’s lying about who she is?”

“I don’t think he’s the one she’s worried about.”

Amy squeezes his arm again, the palm of her hand dragging down to hold his. She shakes her head, as if to push one singular thought away, worry creasing across her brow. Marcus nods and then, taking a cue from her own gentle touch, he squeezes at her hip, just once, before stepping away. 

“I’ll start with him then.”

“Last room on the left. The door is locked.”

She doesn’t offer him a key. She knows he won’t need it. 

“I’ll be up at my desk waiting for you to get back from the bathroom?” 

“You’d think I’d remember to go before heading over here by now,” he jokes, delighting at the way she mockingly rolls her eyes. She turns away but Marcus can’t help himself, stopping her just as she’s about to press her foot into the bottom step, calling her name out into the dark. 

“Hey, Amy?”

“Yeah?”

“What are your plans for tonight?”

——

A/N: This story continues to just be so much fun to write. I hope all of you who are reading are having just as much fun as I am. Thank you, endlessly, for reading!

[demon-trees]

Morning Glory

This is more of a welcome back into the world of writing fanfics since I haven't written anything since high-school and what better way to kick it off with my current obsession then Trigun! I'm sorry it took me so long I was trying to figure out how I wanted the story to go but I think I got it now.

So standard rating would T nothing to gory and no beta readers so if you some mistakes please excuse them but I welcome any critiques you may have for me.

Enjoy what I have written, and I hope to do this fandom, proud!

Word count 4.3k

_______________________________

Hanahaki Disease,

A rare disease where one is in unrequited or even one-sided love that leaves its victim to cough or vomit flower petals mixed with their own blood. In most extreme cases left untreated can lead to a flowering plant growing in the lungs,stomach or heart in which case the disease then turns fatal with then having to vomit or choking fully bloomed flowers and slowly succumbing to the lack of oxygen and blood. The only known cure is to undergo a surgery to remove said flower from the host but no record has shown a case where the patient has recovered unless they do another more high risk operation on the brain to remove part of the limbic system. More studies show that people who undergo brain surgery have a ninety-nine percent rate of recovery and no return of the flowers but have a difficult time to process emotions or even become shells of their former selves. Other studies of this disease have shown zero chance of survival due to the type of plant that can take residence in the victim's body which can shut down its host's body four times faster than normal, meaning the average lifespan with this disease cuts down to a year to a few months while other victims have years ahead. 

Year 3xxx

It's been almost one hundred and fifty years since the seed project crashed on this planet, 

Fifty years since the discovery of the strange plant disease that riddles the lonely and the daydreamers, twenty years since the discovery of a so-called “cure” for it, and three days since I too have fallen victim to the hanahaki disease. 

I thought everything was fine, everything was fine if I just kept my distance from the infamous outlaw, but just like the sun I was always drawn back to his warmth. We met a few years before the Jenerora Rock incident, when I was waiting tables at Rosa’s diner just hiding out from bounty hunters when this unusual man in a long red coat and pointed gold hair walks in. All he asked for is a simple drink, nothing fancy but then one drink turned into one more, and then three more, and so on, honestly if Rosa hadn’t cut him off when she did he would have ended up passed out on the diner floor with her husband. He hadn’t paid for a room and it looked like he wasn’t sober enough to ask for one yet but with the town inn being so far away it didn’t look like he would make it that far in the state he was in anyway. Really what could have been so bad that someone would neglect to get shelter to instead come get their ass blackout drunk?

I really should have minded my own business but with Rosa having her own troubles with her sorry ass husband and Tonis what else could she do with the stranger who seemed to be dead to the world already, apparently drag him to the upstairs apartment that resides above said diner that I'm currently renting, bless you Rosa. With a bit, well with a lot of struggle i managed to drag the idiot up the stairs and not so carefully put him on the bed, really this man who appeared to not weigh much was much heavier than i expected and his staggering height was a struggle i didn’t account for when i decided to be a kind civilian for once. Really, one glance at this man and my natural caregiver instincts kicked in and I hated it, it wasn’t me, not anymore i thought. I went to turn to leave but his shaky voice startled me causing me to freeze, it wasn’t a question that left his lips but a small broken thank you, i hesitantly turned back to look at the poor sap but he had already fallen asleep with small snores leaving his mouth. Thinking back on it i wasn’t sure why i helped him removed his boots or even covered him up with the nicest blanket i could fine but meeting him that day had set everything in motion, I would begin to start falling for the fading sun: star boy, i would call him but to the rest of Gunsmoke he will forever be known as the humanoid typhoon: Vash The Stampede, and to my unsuspecting self I would soon learn why he was given the nickname. 

The morning I woke from my spot on the tiny loveseat to find him nowhere in sight, nothing that showed that he had been here the night before unless you count a neatly made bed. I assumed he had just got up and left town but no, I walked down to see the very sunny man talking and laughing with Rosa as he helped clean the diner with the help of her husband who looked like he saw better mornings. Confused was most likely an understatement given the situation, why was he still here, why was he helping a stranger with a kind smile plastered on his face? Questions that I hadn’t had a chance to ask as I was rushed out the door to help unload the supply truck by other waitresses leaving behind a stuttering mess of heys and wait by the blonde man who looked a little shocked to see me as well. As soon as we were outside I was bombarded with who he was, was he available, and was he a “good time”, shameless the lot of these people! As much to my horror he decided to follow us out back and without a hint of decency he played along with they're crude jokes! 

“Well ladies i must say i would never kiss and tell but she was absolutely rude in the bedroom! She was so rough in the bedroom, she even threw me on the mattress!” He said dramatically holding his arm over his face, crocodile tears threatening to leave his eyes but that cheshire grin he had given it all away that it was a horrible joke. 

“My my i would never have thought our sweet little y/n was into that sort of thing! So scandalous I tell you!” One of the ladies said as she pretend to faint into my arms 

“I have a half mind to drop you, you know and that isn’t what happened last night.” I said sternly glaring at the looming giant who seemed to have a grand of a time laughing with the rest of them as his aviator glasses slid down his face revealing his baby blue eyes and long lashes as he glanced my way. 

‘Damn him, he really was beautiful.’ I thought as I pushed the woman back up and went to the truck to pick up one of the many boxes. 

“No it's true I heard the loud thump of the bed myself last night.” I heard Rosa tell them and it took everything in me not to drop the heavy crate on the ground.  

“ROSA!” I yelled mortified as the rest of them held onto their stomachs from laughing so hard while ‘pretty boy’ fell down laughing. 

I can feel my face getting warm while I walked away from the humiliation.

“Names Vash by the way!” He yells after me as I plopped the crate down at the bar.

He rushes to stand in my way with a shining smile that could put the suns to shame.

“I don’t believe I caught your name yet.” Lier.

“And i believe you just heard it from my friend there so excuse me.” I say as I tried to go under him. Again he follows me. Cute.

“But I would much rather you tell me yourself, beautiful.” He says smoothly.

If god was real then i'm sure the devil is as well because no one should be that handsome and lame but cute at the same time. He’s a temptress, I'm sure of it.

“Does flirting come naturally to you or am I a special case?” I say as I give into whatever game this is, leaning against the door frame with a huff. 

“It depends really, is it working?”  I can see the little glint of mischief in his eyes with his smile turning genuine.  

“No, but I'll give you credit for trying. Names y/n.” I finally say with a small grin. 

The next few weeks were filled with such an odd sense of peace that I almost forgot we were human, but there is no such thing as peace when humans are involved. 

I was out back on break when it happened, playing with Tonis and one of the worms he had found when the loud shouting laughter of kids could be heard and a not so kind shriek of what I could guess was a blonde idiot. He was tackled down and hogtied by the local kids in a game of catch the outlaw, really such a fitting game if you think about it. Kids piled on top of him while he tried to wiggle his way out from under them but the joyous laughter of the kids caused him to laugh a little too and slumped.

‘So he was good looking, great with kids and a decent person.’ The more I looked at him the more I wondered who he really was. With a teasing smile I got up from the small porch taking Tonis with me over to shoo the youngins away but the small child had other ideas as he broke free from grasp and jumped on Vash as well leaving the stranger with no more fight in him as he laid flat on the sand and his glasses laid barren beside him.

“Need a hand there, stranger? It looks like you're about to start seeing stars here in a minute.”  Laughing as I crouched down to his level picking up his glasses and using them to push back my y/h/c hair back. 

“No, no! Everything’s fine, I just need a minute to regain my strength. It will probably come back faster if someone were to say "I don't know, bless me by going on a date with me, tonight maybe?” He shoots me another charming smile. I swore I could see little stars and sparkles around him as he offered his best attempt at a smolder. 

‘This little shit.’

“You know what, you look fine here on the ground so i'm just gonna go but thanks for the new glasses star boy, i think they look good on me.”  I quickly tried to walk away hoping the way my heart skipped a beat was just a weird fluke when I heard a rush of waits being directed at me. I turned around annoyed to see him clumsy jogging over to me, red staining his cheeks and the tips of his ears from the heat I assumed.

“I’m sorry about making a pass at you but can I make it up to you with a drink? No funny business, I promise just a casual drink as a thank you for the other day?” The shy smile he gives me nearly puts me in an early grave.

“All right, one drink, just one pretty boy then we call it even deal?” I offered him back his glasses as a sign of good fate but he freezes.

‘What?’ 

“Pretty?” Oh no, no I didn't!

“You think I'm pretty?” God kill me now as the damn smile he wore now was blinding me. The next thing I knew Vash pulled me down as a random bullet shot passed us and hit a window. 

‘TOO SOON GOD!’

Gunshots rang throughout the city, people scurrying into their homes and children ran to hide in alleyways with the critters, the smell of gunpowder and blood soaked the air. I dropped Vash’s glasses to run and grab Tonis and pulled him into the diner with Rosa who was already loading up her gun. I left him with Rosa’s husband as we ran back outside to see what was happening and nothing could have prepared me for how fast my blood drained at the sight. People were injured, some dead, and a few with life threatening wounds but in the middle of all that was enough for me to turn to stone. 

Bounty hunters.

A large gang of bounty hunters have held up my wanted poster and the leader threatened to shoot up the town and plant if I wasn't handed over in the next five minutes. I turned over to Rosa to explain myself but I had a gun pointed to my head before I could let out a sound, the anger on her face says it all, because I have seen and heard it all before.  

‘How can I bring them here? Why did you endanger all of us? Think of the lives you are putting at risk!’ I’ve heard it many times before but I could never give them an answer that was satisfying, because really all I wanted was a place to call home too. It wasn’t fair that everyone had a place to call home, someplace safe and warm, instead I was cursed to wander around these damn dunes with nothing more than an old hand me down gun and a forgotten name.

“Take me to the leader Rosa, I won't put up a fight I promise.” I said holding back my tears and stretching out my hands to be tied, I don't deserve to cry, not after running for so long and almost killing what could be considered friends again. I deserved this I thought as she tied me up and dragged me to them showing no remorse for me, just a grim frown. I was then thrown to the leaders feet and the last thing i saw was the hilt of his weapon hitting me and the sounds of gunshots being fired. A small panicked hold on was the last thing I really heard but I will never believe it was real. 

A day, a full twenty four hours I was out and in that time Vash had stopped the gang from dragging me off but not before they damaged one of the plants but by some god forsaken miracle he managed to save that too. While I was grateful he saved me, I needed to leave, and I needed to leave now while the diner was bustling with people probably celebrating the hero. I no longer had a home and no friends, so I packed the necessities and managed to slip out into the apartment alleyway. I didn’t bother to leave a note because really who will miss the bitch who brought a dangerous gang here and almost destroyed the town. As I grabbed a Thomas I saw the so-called hero as he stood in my way with both arms outstretched to halt my steed, head slightly down and a certain emotion was hidden behind his tinted glasses, what it was I would probably never know for sure. 

“Out of the way, Vash, I'm not in a playful mood tonight.” I say as I pulled my double action revolver out of its holster and pointed it straight at him, turning the safety off. 

Instead of moving away like i warned him too he moved closer to me arms still up in the air as a silent promise he won’t draw. 

Like that means shit to me right now.

“Vash, I'm serious! Take one more step and this bullet goes straight through your head!”  I yelled, clicking the trigger into place. Again he moves closer, barely five feet away as I shoot a warning next to his head just barely missing a hair. 

“Next time I won’t miss.” I tell him but my hand is shaking and he sees it.

He gently lowers my arm down and grabs my now useless gun to place on the ground all without breaking eye contact with me.��

“I won’t stop you from leaving and I won't follow you out but, i still expect that drink you owe me in the future y/n.” The sad smile he wore never failed to make me feel guilty but I couldn't stay one more night for a drink and I didn't want to make empty promises to the same broken vagabond as me.

“Vash i can’t promise you i will be alive the next time you see me.” I shook off his hand as I stared up at the sky just to keep from looking into his eyes. I wondered if the stars could ever be trapped by a mere human because everytime i would look into his eyes I would catch a tiny glimpse of the vast space. So full of wonder and awe but oh so cold and lonely, an endless cycle of new life and death.  

“Then I'll make a promise to you then, a promise to see my new friend alive and well again.” He then hands me my gun back as vow that if I take it I have honored the promise he made.

‘I want to be selfish, please just this once, let me keep this promise’

“All right, I’ll see you around then starboy.”

That was the first time I felt the pain in my chest.

That was two years ago and I became a gun for hire myself, so imagine my utter surprise when I ran into this idiot again at a bar shoot out when he so casually saves us by using the broken metal sign to shield us from the massive wave of gunshots. Lucky basterd. 

“Well nice to see you again y/n! While I wished it was under better circumstances I do believe it's best for us to start running.”  He grabbed my hand and we hauled ass out of there because someone didn’t bother to check if he had bullets, and neither did i. It seems like nothing changes when sharing a city with Vash the Stampede, except my ability to check my own supplies.

We managed to defeat the two bounty hunters by Vash cleverly using the giant one's weapon against himself while I distracted the other one long enough for him to get hit with it as well. I hate to think it but we made a good team. Although his sillness gets the better of him he’s actually very smart if not too passive about how to win a gunfight, i still wonder about this man.  

During the fight we met two insurance girls named Meryl and Millie who are on the lookout for the “real” Vash to keep him under surveillance for a whole twenty four hours. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that the man they were looking for was the poor sap next to me and not a gruesome, womanizing monster, he’s a flirt for sure but hardly a womanizer. We parted not long after but the way Vash’s eyes kept tailing that woman, Meryl, had me guessing this wasn’t the first time he’s seen her. His gaze was too soft and somber to have for a first time meeting.

‘The pain is back, fuck.’

“So you gonna tell me how you know her or do you want to play the fool all night?” Turning to him once again, a sad smile was plastered on his face as he watched her go.

‘It hurts, it hurts a lot’

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” 

“Vash, I've been around for a while and I've seen more than a hundred people with the same look on their face. You know her, you're in love with her.” 

“I would appreciate it if you just let it go, please.” The way his fist clenched and jaw tightened told me enough that it was painful but nothing else.

‘I’m overstepping again’

“Okay.”

Bitter, I was bitter and for what reason I couldn't tell you back then. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to bring it up when we weren’t friends and we didn’t know much about each other either, but I craved painful answers. I desperately wanted the missing knowledge that had him so wind up but i have to let it go.

‘My lungs feel like they’re on fire.’ 

He started to walk away and all i could do was stand there, i didn’t dare reach out to him again. Walking back to town slowly as I followed him from a distance, giving him the space I owed him but then stopped as I stared up at the night sky. It was terribly stunning as I witnessed a rare meteor shower above us leaving me breathless for the first time in years. The glowing worms seemed to take interest as well as they filled the sky next to the shower. I never realized Vash had stopped walking as well until I heard him clear his throat trying to gain my attention tilting his head towards the small run down town.

“I know the bar is destroyed but did you want to find someplace else to grab that drink I still owe you?” 

“It's been two years since we made that promise, I'm surprised you even remembered.” 

“I have a very good memory. Is that a yes?”

“It's not a no but lets see if we can find a place first. Yeah?” I tell him as we walk in sync towards the town with the little bit of pain in my chest hurting a bit less but the ache is still there. Then the coughing started.

“That’s quite a cough you got there, you okay?” 

“Yeah i’m fine it must because its cold out now, you know.” I tell him trying to ease his worries and to convince myself I was fine.

"Weird, I hope I'm not getting sick.’

“Well if you ever need a handsome guy to nurse you back to health i’ll gladly do it, Flower!”

"Flower? Why?" I managed to choke out and resist the urge to fan myself.

"Well you remind me of the pretty flowers in old books, but I guess flower sounds weird. How about petal?" 

'Why must God punish me this way!'

"Well if I call you star boy it's only fair. I suppose you can give me a nickname as well." Be still thy beating heart comes to mind as i gently grasped my shirt over my aching organ.

"Moon flower it is then. To match mine.” 

‘Oh how fitting.’

We spent the next hour going back and forth between diners and shops but nothing. No booze or homemade alcohol in sight but it was okay because after a while we stopped looking and just enjoyed each other's company for the evening. We settled for dinner now with another promise of that drink. I will always think back to that little time we spent together fondly as we departed a few days later.

I wouldn’t see him again for a couple of months this time around but when I did, it was with the insurance girls again and some man carrying a very large cross. The ominous feeling never went away and neither was the horrorbile envy I had towards Meryl. She was stunning,brave,kind, and had such a righteousness to her that when compared to me it was- pathetic. She was someone who deserved to be by Vash’s side, who would fight to stay by his side even if she says it's purely for work but I think that lie was to keep her heart off her sleeve for a while longer.

I kept an eye on the way Vash’s eyes trail after her, wherever she was Vash was never far behind where it would be by her side or hiding from plain sight after a mild scolding from her. I hate her but admire her the same.

During our time apart my chest pain worsened, the coughing fits grew bloody and my body was slowly being overcome with yellowish veins that stretched from my heart to my lower abdomen. It could be easily covered by my clothes but the bloody cough was what gave me away the night of the quick draw contest. The priest was the one to find me hunched over a desk as we both watched in horror as white petals were mixed with large blood clots. 

‘No. Please no.’ I could cry, scream my decaying lungs out but what’s the use now. I’m dying a lonely lover's death, oh how the reaper must weep for one's like me. 

“Have you told him yet? Needle-noggin?” Wolfwood asks him to light a cigarette and walks towards the bathroom.

“It's not him. There's no way, it's a mistake." I couldn't love Vash, it's too soon.

"You really want to keep lying while on your deathbed huh?" Wolfwood threw me a towel as he took another drag.

''By the looks of those petals ya could have a Morning Glory growing inside that lil heart of yours, worse case its a moon flower." 

"Those are poisonous right?" I tried to wipe up the blood and petals but I think it stained the wood floors. I might have to pay a deposit or damage fees.

"Right. So even if you get enough money for the surgery it will be useless since the poison is already in your system. You'll die in a few weeks sweetheart. "

'I'm dying' 

"I guess I should be glad I met a priest when I did huh? Maybe you can bless my grave with some religious crap about heaven or something." I tried to joke around but in the end everything came out in short labored sobs. 

'I'm really dying'

"So you really don't want to tell him huh? " 

"What's the point? I'll be dead soon." Looking back now maybe I should have told him sooner.

Stay tuned for part two coming soon

[offsidekineticist]

It Almost Feels Like a Good Day

I'M ALIVE!!!!!!!!!

Hey everyone, sorry I've been radio silent on here for awhile. Needed to take a bit of a step back from social media. No guarantees I'll be super active outside of breakup arc updates, but hopefully I'll be a little more consistent with it going forward. In the meantime, here's part FOURTEEN of the Breakup Arc (dear lord this is going to be a full-length novel by the time I'm done, isn't it? ugh).

CW: Mention of torture, food insecurity, recovering from/living with long-term effects of torture, internalized ableism (Theo has a lot of bullshit to unlearn), toxic relationship dynamics, sensory issues related to scent/taste, reference to vomit

There was no more sleep that night. Ever since Qweck left, much of South Kintargo (including the rickety apartment you're trying to call home) has been engulfed in corpse stench. Nobody knows what is causing the stench, though everyone seems to have a theory. Yours is that this is the natural consequence of leaving the management of citywide infrastructure in the hands of the Silver Ravens, a band of adventurers-turned-revolutionaries who think sewage systems are for sneaking about unnoticed and hiding unspeakable horrors best forgotten, but nobody has cared enough about what you think to ask you. In any case, the stench makes the already daunting task of sleeping through the pain in your hands downright impossible. Instead, you lie awake, staring at the wall and slowly watching light seep in through the cracks in the wood as the sunrises.

You drag yourself out of bed, and Giliys follows immediately. He didn't sleep either, though whether that's because of the stench or some other reason is an open question. He helps you dress with that infuriating patience you had never realized he was capable of, before surveying the empty shelf above the stove. He turns towards you.

"Up for a trip?" he asks. 

(He asks because you have had days when you couldn't drag yourself out of bed, but he doesn't have to rub it in your face)

You pick up your bag - a clumsy feat with your hands still splinted - and pull the strap over your shoulder with a glare. "I'm not an invalid."

He bows his head slightly. "Right. Sorry..." He trots over to the door and opens it. "Shall we?"

You hate that you need him to open the door for you, but you don't let it show. You just walk out the door, barely acknowledging him as you go. You hear the door close behind you, and Giliys's obnoxiously cheerful footsteps grate on you as he catches up.

"Same place as last time?" Giliys asks.

"That is acceptable," you say. 'The same place as last time' is a street by the docks in the north of Jarvis End, a neighborhood a little ways northwest of your apartment, where a fishmonger sells six oysters for a copper. It's far but that's the point. The stench makes it so anything you try to eat at home comes right back up - if you can even force yourself to eat it in the first place. Jarvis End has escaped the curse of the Stench, and raw oysters are cheap enough not to break the bank. The flavor is a bit stronger than you'd like, but without the Stench, you can eat it and keep it down. 

The trouble, of course, is the distance. It's only half a mile, but you were locked in a closet and only alloved out to walk twenty feet to a walk-in closet of pain for about a month. Your body has decided anything further than a hundred feet is an expedition. But the only way out

is to power through it - the one good part of Qweck refusing to accept that your hands can't be fixed is that it forced you up and down Temple Hill regularly, though you had to take an embarrassing number of breaks to catch your breath along the way.

"Hey, Thay? Think we could slowdown? I'm gettin' kinda winded," Giliys asks from behind you. You scowl because you know he's lying. You're not even halfway there, and Giliys never asks for anything for his own sake these days. It's infuriating. You want to tell him to shut up because it's just a little walking, but you're breathing so hard you can barely say anything.

"Fine," you manage to say after a moment, shooting a vicious glave his way. He bows his head in contrition.

"Sorry, I'm just gettin' old, I guess. Middle age just kinda sneaks up on ya, ya know?"

(He babbles when he lies. He's worse at it than the literal children you worked with at the library, and you don't understand how, with the life he's led, he can be this bad at lying.)

"Seeing as I bleached when most gnomes would consider me scarcely more than a child, I can't say that I do."

His face falls, and whatever cheer he had gained from his successful gambit is immediately lost. His shoulders dip as his head bows even further.

"Sorry. I, uh- I didn't think."

"No, you didn't," you snap.

"Sorry, Thay," he says, quietly this time. You turn towards the road ahead, and the distance that still lies between you and your destination. Giliys's feigned middle-aged moment has given you a moment to catch your breath, but it's time to push on. You'll never get better if you keep making excuses for yourself.

"Let's go."

It is only when you are half a block from the fishmonger that you stop again, huffing and puffing, but this pause of your own accord. You've been here enough over the last weeks that the fishmonger - Molly - has started to recognize you and make small-talk, and you don't want her asking why you can't breathe. Giliys says nothing, only offering you a waterskin, which you take, guzzling the contents greedily. You take a huge gulp of air once you're satisfied and pass the skin back to Giliys. Taking another moment to catch your breath, you straighten up and nod to yourself. You can do this. It's just small-talk with someone who's barely a stranger anymore. So you take a last deep breath and round the last corner towards Molly's spot.

Molly doesn't exactly have a stand. Every Morning, Molly wheels out the various shellfish - oysters, cockles, mussels, clams - which her grown children pulled out of the Yolulibus River the night before (you suspect her children are not properly licensed to dive for bivalves in the river, hence the reduced price). There's no awning to shade her or keep her dry when it rains, but every day, rain or shine, she is out there hawking her wares, smiling without complaint. 

Today is no different. As you approach, hands behind your back as if clasped to avoid questions about them, she stands in her light brown dress, an apron hanging from her neck to keep the dress tidy. She seems to perk up at the sight of you.

"Well, if it isn't Sers Theoven and Giliys!"

"Molly!" you return, the prescribed grin on your face, "how's business?"

"Same as it ever was, ser, same as it ever was. But I'm sure you're not here just to see little old me. What can I do ya for?'

"A dozen oysters," you answer.

"Oh, just your luck! Kiddies brought in a bit too much last night, so I'm running a buy one, get one free sale, just for today." You look at the cart dubiously - it doesn't seem any more full than it usually is. Molly seems to follow your gaze and read your dubiousness because she then adds "Wasn't even able to wheelit all out here, that's how much they caught! So if you'd take two dozen off my hands for the price of one, I'd greatly appreciate it."

Giliys hands her two coppers before you can inquire further. "Well, if ya really need us to, I guess we can make the sacrifice." 

Molly grins and scoops the oysters into a sack without actually counting them out. "Oh, I knew I could count on you boys!" She hands Giliys a sack of what you're fairly sure is more than two dozen oysters. "Now you'll want to eat them while they're still fresh. You got any left after dinner tonight, you cook em in a stew or toss em back in the river so the kids Can catchem again, got it?"

"Loud and clear, Alive-O!" Giliys says with a jaunty salute as he takes the sack and, almost giddy with excitement, pats your shoulder. "C'mon, Thay, let's eat!"

You give Molly one last suspicious glance before giving her a courteous nod and "Have a nice day" and following Giliys.

"You know she was lying about the extra catch?"you hiss to Giliys as soon as you're out of earshot.

"No, Thay, I don't fucking know it, and even if I did, I can't fucking live on six oysters a day, so let me actually eat a full fucking meal for once," Giliys snaps. A look of regret and something else crosses his face. "Fucking shit - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap, I just - I'm so sorry - "

"You've been going hungry," you clarify, the guilt sinking into your stomach. Of course he's been going hungry - halflings have a surprising appetite given their size, and Giliys is enormous by halfling standards. "Why didn't you say something?"

Giliys shrugs."Not like there was anything we could do about it."

"I could have gone with less!"

"Fuck no! You're underweight and healing. I'm not stealing food outta your mouth."

"You're not stealing anything if I'm offering!"

"Use whatever fancy wordplay you want, I'm not lettin' ya go hungry on my account"

"But you'll damn souls to hell on your account." The words are out before you can stop them. You're right, of course, but being right and being relevant or useful are two different things.

Giliys's face falls. He looks away. "Could we argue about this another time? We have enough food today-more than enough. We can fight over who goes hungry another time. Just - let's sit down and eat and enjoy shit for once?"

"Of course, Giliys, silly me, how could I possibly waste my time and energy on worrying that you've been starving yourself, when I could instead be looking forward to the tantalizing prospect of needing to be spoonfed again?"

He squeezes his eyes shut. "Okay. Fine. Can we wait until we've both had something to eat? Because I don't think that's helping either of our moods."

He's right. You don't like that he's right, but he's right. You've also arrived at your usual spot: a wooden bench overlooking the waterfront. "Fine," you say as you climb up on to the bench. Giliys follows after you before producing an ornate dagger from an indeterminate pocket and using it to shuck the oysters.

(You don't know where he got the dagger. If he had it before your arrived in Kintargo, he never showed it to you. You suspect you don't want to know.)

Giliys tries to offer you the first oyster, reaching towards you so you can slurp it from the half-shell. You turn your head away. "You take the first one," you insist. You can almost hear him scowl as he mutters to himself, but you also hear the sound of slurping as he eats the oyster.

"You're eating the next one," Giliys says, his mouth still full by the sound of it, and you hear the sound of his dagger working at an oyster shell. You nod - he said it with that tone that tells you he's going to fight you if you push back, and you see little point now that the point has been made.

The two of you eat mostly in silence, watching the ships go by on the river and enjoying the warm weather and sunlight. It is...pleasant. Even him having to feed you isn't so bad. In other circumstances...It might even be a pleasant -

No. You can't think like that. There can be nothing there.

Still. It's nice.

You eat your fill first. You eat the same as usual, and Giliys keeps going while you resolve that in the future he'll eat more than he's been eating. You should have realized sooner. Giliys is so much bigger than you - of course he needs more food than you do.

Eventually Giliys, pockets stuffed with oyster shells, ties off the bag of remaining oysters and approaches the riverbank. He turns back to you, a mischievous look in his eye you haven't seen in so long you don't actually know when you last saw it. "You ever skip rocks?" he asks.

"I grew up next to a river. Of course I've skipped rocks." You slightly regret the sharp reply, but if Giliys took notice of the harshness he makes no sign, instead barrelling forward, high on the energy of his first full meal in weeks.

"What's yer record?"

"Seventeen skips." You almost smile at the memory. You and your brother used to skip rocks on the Brastle river for hours. Or, rather, you would skip rocks while your brother stubbornly kept throwing rocks into the river. Lad was all raw strength and could barely manage a single skip, no matter how many times he made you explain how to do it.

Giliys grins, hefting an oyster shell in his hand. "Betcha I can beat that." He turns around and tosses the shell.

It plops into the water with a splash. You raise an eyebrow. He looks at you, slightly embarrassed. "That was a warmup. Yep, yep, a warmup. Here, eighteen skips, coming right up!" He whirls around and throws the oystershell overhand.

It disappears into the river with a slightly bigger splash.

And so begins the cycle: Gilly insists he's going to beat your record, tosses the oyster shell into the river, watches it sink without even a hint of a skip, and then he makes some excuse for why it's not his fault. After the fourth or fifth time, you hop off the bench, putting the sack of remaining oysters in your bag.

"Your technique is all wrong. Here." You walk up behind him and putyour hand on his. He draws in a sharp breath, and you pull back - you've startled him. "Sorry, I should have asked - I was going to show you how, but - "

"Uh, nah, you're good," Giliys says hurriedly. "That's, uh - yeah, you're good. What were you gonna show me?"

You close the distance and put your left hand on his. "You keep throwing over your head like this-" You guide his arm upwards, standing on your toes to reach, "which means all the momentum is going straight into the Water. You want it to just skim the top of the water, so you want to throw more sideways and then add a little wrist flick -" again, you direct his arm in the proper motion " - like that."

The shell flies. It skims across the surface of the water, skipping once, twice, thrice - before it slices through the surface into the depths of the river. 

"There you go!" you say, patting Gilly's shoulder in congratulations (ignoring the pain in your hand) as you step back from him. "It's not too bad once you know how to do it, right?"

"Uh, y-yeah," Gilly stammers. You look up to find that his face is flushed.

"Are you alright?" you ask, concerned. He's just had a better meal than he's had in some time - is it possible it was too much? Is he sick?

"Yeah, sorry, I just - uh - well, I guess I was surprised cuz, uh...well, y'know, I've never actually skipped rocks before. Kinda didn't really believe people actually did it? Kinda just figured it was some bullshit parents told their kids to keep them out of their hair until they wised up."

He's still flushed, but he seems to be back to himself now. Maybe it was just a trick of the light? You decide to let it go. "If you didn't think it was actually possible, why did you say you could beat the record you didn't believe I set?"

Gilly shrugs. "I mean, ok, I knew it was a thing people did. Just didn't really get it, right? Like when you know something but don't know it, you know?"

You do know - though you probably wouldn't phrase it that way. Nevertheless, you nod. Giliys nods back, as if reassuring himself. "Yeah, so. Uh. I'm kinda done with skipping rocks - uh, shells, I mean. Yeah. So. Ready to go?"

You're not. You're feeling more energetic now that you've eaten, but the prospect of walking all the way home still feels daunting. And the river is calming. Yes, there's the bustle and noise of the docks and the streets, but underlying all of it is the rushing water that doesn't care about any of it, traveling its destined path unbothered by those that seek to profit from it.

"Could we...perhaps...I'd like to stay for a bit, if that's alright," you say tentatively, backing up and then hopping up onto the bench. Gilly is unreadable for a moment, and then he nods before joining you on the bench.

It's nice to have this time together. You shouldn't think so, but it is. It almost feels like a good day, and you have so few of those -

You'll hate yourself for it later, but for now. It's nice.