#why is there so much stupid reading why did one of the passages you assigned us use the r slur twice

[unnamed-atlas]

Thinking maybe I'm being a hater irrationally to my comp professor, but also I love comp idk how you've made me dread this class in less than two weeks, last semester we had two essays and a group project all due within the span of a week and i still didn't hate that class or the professor or the assignments. girl wtf did you do we've had two classes

[m-questionnaire]

From Not a Future Missus: Champion of the Ages. (I still prefer my April Fool’s masterpiece.)

     “This is stupid,” Ella said. Her arms were crossed as she glared daggers at her textbook. It was opened to a page listing common occurrences during puberty. Eyes landed on the word at the bottom of the list, printed in large, bold letters: URGES (see pg. 40). 

     Beside Ella, Potter grunted in displeasure; they shared Ella’s textbook for the lesson. It was a shame that she had to trade partners with an occupant of the nearest table, which happened to be Potter and Weasley’s. She didn’t understand why Professor McGonagall decided it would be a good idea to build teamwork, especially since the assignment involved learning more about the pubescent body. Reading embarrassing passages together? The world must be so against the class!

     “Why do we need a different partner for this?” Ella whispered harshly. She flipped to page forty, which went into further detail about certain aspects of the teenage body that she didn’t want to know. “The teachers are conspiring against us for their amusement. I’ll bet Professor McGonagall gossips about our embarrassment to the rest of the staff after the end of every lesson.”

     Potter rolled his eyes. “And?”

      “And?” Ella frowned. She glanced between Potter and the textbook. “It’s humiliating for us. I, for one, don’t need any more of that this early on.”

     “I, for one,” Potter drawled in a mockery of Ella’s voice, “wouldn’t mind that. That deal with the ferret was fully deserved. You attacked me!”

     “Because you insulted my mother,” Ella hissed. “However you and Weasley interpreted my words, I never intended to slight his parents!”

     “Sure you didn’t,” Potter said sarcastically. “Don’t the Malfoys and Weasleys have some feud going on? And with how you’ve been treating us for the past three years, I’m perfectly within rights to assume the worst.”

     Ella’s cheeks heated in her frustration. She looked down, finding her fists clenched on her lap. “Alright, but leave my mother out of this. Insult me back, I—I don’t care, but don’t bring her into whatever conflicts we have.”

     “And you leave the Weasleys out of it,” Potter said softly. From Ella’s peripheral vision, however, she could tell his expression was tense. “And don’t think I forgot what you said about my parents that train ride on our first year. You’re not as innocent as you like to think.”

     Ella looked at Potter, confused. She didn’t remember much during that encounter besides the fact that she was chosen over Weasley.

     “Even if I did,” she said, “I still meant no harm with that Ministry article; I know I tend to sound more biting, but I’ve been doing it for years. I’m just saying, they tend to overlook Arthur Weasley or anyone with a lower position. Or Rita Skeeter does. But . . . objectively speaking, they looked happy. I know the Weasleys are poor—yes, I’ll say it—and their house looks in need of major fixing, but they looked . . .”

      Warm. Like a very caring couple, and it was no wonder Potter attached himself so easily to them. But Ella refused to voice that. That would make her appear soft. 

     “Looked what?” Potter’s bespectacled eyes were on Ella’s. She wanted to look away, but she didn’t. Potter lacked the incomprehensible sorrow she once saw, replaced with honest curiosity (if a bit tinged with suspicion), and it sparked an odd interest in her. 

     Ella licked her lips. “Looked . . .”

     “Mr. Potter, Miss Malfoy,” Professor McGonagall interrupted quietly. Ella’s mouth snapped shut, and she found Professor McGonagall standing in front of them with a disapproving look. “This is no time for miscellaneous discussions. I am certain you remember the assignment that comes after?”

[serpenteve]

so i still hate book!mal 😒

I'm almost done re-reading the Grisha trilogy (because I hate myself) and I kept getting annoyed by how so many of Mal's lines that Bardugo clearly thought were "romantic" and swoon-worthy are literally just telegraphing how possessive, toxic, narcissistic, selfish and entitled he is?

I don't think I can fully express how completely she failed in trying to endear this character to me because so much of what he says and does reminds me of the toxic and controlling people I've known 😬

Note: This has nothing to do with m*lina shippers. This post is not for you. You guys can ship what you want and it's none of my business. This is just an examination of the book character's dialogue and why I (and many other people) felt uneasy about him.

part one: shadow & bone

We see the first glimpse of Mal's possessiveness and jealousy when he first encounters Alina at the Little Palace:

"And here you are, safe and sound, dancing and flirting like some cosseted little princess." [...] “Are you happy here, Alina?” The question took me by surprise. “I … I don’t know. Sometimes.” “Are you happy here with him?” [...] “The clothes, the jewels, even the way you look. He’s all over you." [...] “Just admit it,” he sneered. “He owns you.”

Apparently, we're supposed to excuse his blatant slut-shaming and anger because....he's been on a perilous assignment where his friends died and he thought Alina was being tortured. But I fail to see how this makes any sense because if you thought the person you loved was in danger and you'd risked your life just to see them and then discover they are actually safe and sound....would you not be overjoyed and relieved? This whole time you thought they were suffering or in danger but it turns out they're completely safe and cared for!

It's especially telling that instead of asking about anything else, Mal seems particularly interested in Alina's relationship with the Darkling, and maps their relationship dynamic as "ownership" simply because Alina wears black. His vicious tone suggests to me that he's just salty he's not the one "owning" Alina.

The real reason Mal is pissed is because Alina is happy without him (and potentially with another love interest) and he can't stand that because he feels personally entitled to have her.

Later, he admits to ruminating about this moment like an unhinged stalker:

“Do you? That night at the palace when I saw you on that stage with him, you looked so happy. Like you belonged with him. I can’t get that picture out of my head.” “I was happy,” I admitted. “In that moment, I was happy. I’m not like you, Mal. I never really fit in the way that you did. I never really belonged anywhere.” “You belonged with me,” he said quietly.

This passage has always telegraphed Mal's sense of entitlement towards Alina. Prior to her getting whisked away to the Little Palace, Mal showed little romantic affection for Alina. But now that she's the fabled Sun Summoner, he comes off like he thinks he's more entitled to Alina than anyone else simply because they grew up together.

Alina even frankly tells him that she hasn't felt like she belonged with him for a long time. Instead of exploring why that might be, why they might have been on diverging paths, why Mal has made Alina feel like she is unworthy of his romantic feelings until now, Mal goes on what I assume is supposed to be a romantic speech:

"I’ve risked my life for you. I’ve walked half the length of Ravka for you, and I’d do it again and again and again just to be with you, just to starve with you and freeze with you and hear you complain about hard cheese every day. So don’t tell me we don’t belong together"

Again, this reeks of entitlement and manipulation. This is one of those lines that I see certain m*lina shippers using as proof of how "nice" Mal is but it honestly kind of scares me? He doesn't care about Alina's feelings or want to explore why she felt so distant from him. He's the one in charge and if he did X, Y, Z for Alina then he's entitled to have her and she's just going to have to accept that.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to see you, Alina. But I see you now.”

This specific line on its own doesn't necessarily have to be bad. We've certainly seen variations of this in other media. But combined with his sense of entitlement, how he treats Alina in the later books, and the fact that she needed to transform into a literal sunbeam for Mal to even consider her as a romantic prospect, it just makes me roll my eyes. Why should Alina be the one to look past Mal's obliviousness when he's barely given her the time of day and reacted so negatively at the mere suggestion that she might have found happiness with another man? Why should Alina just forgive Mal's jealousy when he has a reputation for sleeping around that Alina has kindly ignored even though it deeply hurt her?

I don't care if you danced naked on the roof of the Little Palace with him. I love you, Alina, even the part of you that loved him.”

This is supposed to be Mal's "apology" for his outburst at the Little Palace and I was on-board with it up until the last part. This is another line I see m*lina shippers pointing to as proof that Mal doesn't have a toxic madonna/whore complex and doesn't care about Alina's previous romantic interests. But the problem is that he treats Alina's previous affections for the Darkling as a moral stain on her character. It's a back-handed compliment that amounts to: "I don't care if you had sex with him because I'll still love you, even that stupid and slutty part of you that loved him"

He touched my cheek lightly, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and raw. “I never want to see you in black again.”

Again, this is meant to be romantic but it just makes me feel very uncomfortable. Mal is so hyperfixated on the Darkling "marking" Alina with a color. It would be one thing if Alina is also equally or more perturbed by the color, but she just isn't? Or at least she's not as obsessed with it as Mal appears to be.

[earnestly-endlessly]

Hi! Do you have any Cherik Army AUs? I've managed to find just 3.

Hi Anon, thanks for the ask. I found some good Army AUs, though some might not quite fall into the category of 'Army AU'. There are, surprisingly, few Army AUs that I have found, whereas there are several military and war AUs, but those don't necessarily involve an army. I did include a variety that involve an army in one way or another, though some fit the bill better than others. I hope you find some that you enjoy!!

Cherik Army AU

I Want to Guard Your Dreams And Visions – luninosity

Summary: I was reading Barbara Hambly’s Abigail Adams mystery novels, and then Erik/Charles American Revolutionary War AU happened. Little snippet in which they share a tent, drink coffee, and provide support to each other.

The Eggnog Riot – Sophia_Bee

Summary: 1826. The American Military Academy in West Point. The day after Christmas. Cadet Erik Lehnsherr wakes up naked with a certain cadet Xavier sprawled across his chest. He can only blame the eggnog.

No Man’s Land – ikeracity

Summary: It's 1914 in Ypres, Belgium. British soldier Charles Xavier has been in the trenches for four months of endless artillery fire, bone-deep cold, and constant fear of the enemy. But on Christmas Eve, the gunfire falls silent, and they climb out of their trenches for a Christmas truce. Charles, of course, meets Erik, the German soldier across the way.

My Land’s Only Borders Lie Around My Heart – pseudoneems

Summary: WW1 Christmas truce of 1914. Opposing soldiers Erik and Charles meet.

Le soldat – Iggyassou

Summary: Erik is in the trenches, trying to survive the war so that he can go back to Charles, his young lover waiting for him back at home.

Names – Squeegee

Summary: In the summer of 1917, British soldier Charles Xavier finds himself taking cover in a shell crater.

Not sure if the 'graphic' tag applies or not, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.

Quell a storm with pen and ink – patroclux

Summary: Charles had spared his life. That was not something he could easily repay.

They wrote letters to each other for two years, until Charles was pulled out of the war from a sudden illness and Erik remained to fight for a cause he didn't believe in. One that ultimately had no effect; one that stole away four years of his life.

Traumatized and persecuted, Erik applied for a post at Janus, a lighthouse in the middle of the Irish Sea. He thought being alone would do him good.

Despite the letters and despite the love, Erik didn't expect Charles to find him.

Hier steh ich an den Marken meiner Tage – MonstrousRegiment

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a spy in the SS, and his British liaison is strategist Charles Xavier. Their relationship from the moment they meet to a year after the end of the war.

Theme and Variations: War – ninemoons42

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a musical prodigy and a man destined for great things and great stages. But his life is shattered by a terrible accident that leaves him blind and trying to find his way back to his life, his music, and his place in the world.

Then he meets Charles Xavier, an agent of Section 8 of the Military Intelligence Directorate of Providence, and he finds himself listening in to clandestine radio transmissions and clicking Morse code, and these sounds are part and parcel of a war that can only take place in the shadows and the hidden places of history.

Strib nicht von Mir – ravenoftheninerealms

Summary: A squad of Allied Forces, led by Charles Xavier, liberates the Nazi concentration camp where Erik was being held prisoner.

Cold foxholes, warm hearts – oddegg

Summary: Basically, this is Band of Mutants. A little slice of life in Bastogne.

Photographs and Memories – tirsynni

Summary: When war-battered Erik Lehnsherr met Charles Xavier, the man kneeling in the dirt and whispering to a lost refugee child, Erik feared his days of running from his deviance was done.

Marching Home – Quietbang

Summary: For a prompt on the meme asking for fic dealing with the fact that, in comics canon, Charles served in the Korean war.

War meant something different to this generation, Charles knew.

Crash on the Levy (Down in the Flood) – Quietbang

Summary: “This is much bigger than you think. You're in the middle of a war, and you don't even realize, do you?”

He pauses, and answers his own question.“No, of course you don't. How silly of me."

The Knight and the Dagger – Dow

Summary: A Lieutenant in the Soviet Army, Erik Lensherr had no other goals than to find the man that killed his parents. But when a discovery yields a little boy with wings like an angel, Erik is shocked to realize that he isn’t alone. There are other people like him, both dangerous and alluring.

Lifelong Service – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik thinks he should be the one to teach their recruits hand-to-hand combat; Charles makes a persuasive argument to the contrary.

Footsteps of uprooted lovers – ninemoons42

Summary: Against a turbulent backdrop of artistic, social, and political upheaval, the playwright Charles Xavier and the photographer Erik Lehnsherr find themselves meeting under less-than-polite circumstances, but part rather more amicably than they'd met.

When they find each other again in a Barcelona that is falling inexorably toward war, they find themselves taking up arms, each in his own way, and together they join a struggle for freedom, for love, and for their very lives.

Dear Soldier – Lindstrom, ToriTC198

Summary: "Dear Soldier,

I pray that this package finds you well. The organization gave us a list of odds and ends that you might need, but I thought that a person so far from home might appreciate something more than soap and tube socks."

When Charles' school decides to send care packages to the soldiers fighting in Vietnam, he chooses to also include a letter and a few personal touches. When Staff Sergeant Erik is the recipient of that particular care package it will spur a relationship that will change them both.

Fortunate Son – blueink13

Summary: he days leading up to and during Alex's deployment in Vietnam. Everyone handles it in their own way. Some handle better than others.

You’re Here – Deshonana

Summary: Everyone decides its a good idea not to tell Erik when his boyfriend comes home from the military.

Welcome Home –  loveydoveyecstasy

Summary: It's been two years since Charles was deployed to Afghanistan, and Erik can't wait to pick him up at the airport.

When Secrets have Secrets – ximeria

Summary: The arguments that take place in General Xavier's office when General Lehnsherr has a bad day are legendary. Quite frankly, no one really knows what's going on and if the two men have it their way, no one ever will.

Quiet Company – Sophia_Bee

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is always on the move. He's spent the last many years going from war torn country to war torn country telling the stories of the people there through photographs. Then one of his pictures is selected as a winner for the Pulitzer Prize and Erik finds himself stuck in London for longer than he wants. He ends up with an assignment to photograph Charles Xavier, a wealthy philanthropist who is intrigued to find himself working with a Pulitzer-winning war photographer. Erik is far less intrigued by someone he considers privileged and out of touch. Both of their lives are about to change in ways they couldn't imagine.

The City is Ours – RedStockings

Summary: Erik felt his heart racing with excitement, lightened, and for once felt joyful. Charles had looked at him, really looked at him, and there had been something there, a knowing of a kind. As the soldiers laughed amongst each other, and joked each other about who would succeed in marrying the boy, Erik made himself a silent vow. Charles was going to be his, and nothing would keep him from having him. He’d marry him, and he’d save him, and Charles would love him for it.

Not even the war could keep them apart... right?

Sign of the Times – dsrobertson

Summary: Casablanca-ish AU.

Charles Xavier meets Erik Lehnsherr in Paris, 1937. They spend the next two years with one another, stupid in-love, until war comes heavy in September 1939. Erik leaves for Poland and the Resistance movement there, promising to return. Charles is left in Paris, where Nazi jackboots march in, Summer of 1940. He becomes a member of the underground French Resistance, publishing illegal newsletters, leaflets, until news comes through in February 1942: Erik is dead. Charles throws himself into more dangerous work, meeting with Communists, helping derail a German train, and he does too much, goes too far. His friends find him safe passage out of France, out across the Mediterranean, to Morocco, Casablanca. It is here he finds Erik, alive.

The Waste Land – nekosmuse

Summary: The White Queen and her Shadow King sit on their throne, safe behind the psionic shields of the Walled City. The armies of Genosha batter uselessly at the gates, a war locked in stalemate. Magneto, camped in the frozen mud, receives word the Citadel intends to send a telepath to the front lines. The same telepath he met two years ago, who sat across a carved wooden chess set and offered Magneto the first friendly smile in a lifetime. The same telepath who still haunts his dreams.

Winter Comes With a Knife – RedStockings

Summary: It apparently came to no one’s surprise that the war-mage Erik Lehnsherr took up residence in the Dark Keep. I knew he was going to choose my sister, Raven, to be his apprentice so why wouldn’t he let me go? What did he want from me?

My name is Charles Xavier, I can read minds and use magic. I’ve met Kings and Queens, mages and magic users. I’ve travelled through lay-lines and jumped through the Dark Void… but none of that really matters.

I am leading an army into war, I am scared and I never wanted this. I’ve come to realise that what I want, rode into my life when I was still a child. Now he’s out there, ready to charge into battle. Ready to die for me.

Polaris – LastAmericanMermaid

Summary: Charles Xavier is 19 years old, doe-eyed and soft; Erik Lehnsherr is 24 years old, steely-hard and bitter. One is a soldier, the other a refugee. Both are mutants. There will be pain, oh yes.

(An AU in which Charles is a wounded British soldier, Erik is the German hiding in France who nurses him back to health, and the contents of this fic are best read to the soundtrack of Atonement.)

Note: Unfinished

MEDIC! – paladin_danse

Summary: A British airborne medic finds himself alone and afraid behind enemy lines. When he decides to save the life of an S.S. German officer he finds wounded in the snow, he has no idea the choice he has made will alter the course of the war—and their lives—forever.

Note: Sadly unfinished

Suicide is Painlesss – weethreequarter 

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr did not become a doctor to pick bullets out of children. Unfortunately the US Army had other ideas.

Stuck in the middle of the Korean War, Erik and his fellow civilian surgeons have to battle not only the war, but also weather, mud, and boredom. And that's without mentioning Major Sebastian Shaw who thinks war is the best thing that's ever happened to him and never should've been allowed to pick up a scalpel, or Colonel William Stryker who may or may not work for the CIA and probably doesn't even know himself.

Throw in new arrival Captain Charles Xavier, and Erik is in for a very interesting war.

Note: Unfinished

A Light That Never Goes Out – R_Cookie

Summary: It was meant to be the war to end all wars; these two men were never supposed to meet. One a German Jew, the other a British surgeon. The odds that their paths should cross were next to none - but War defies the expected. It always has, and always will.

From the beaches of Dunkirk to the treacherous slopes of Monte Cassino - this is their story.

WWII AU.

Note: Unfinished

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Subaru Maniac [05]

ー The scene starts in Yui’s bedroom

*Scribble scribble*

Yui: ( Hm...This English sentence...This one, maybe? )

( ...Yeah! I did it! )

*Rustle*

Yui: Hmー ...I’m glad I was able to stay focused and get quite a bit of studying done.

How are things going on your end, Subaru-kun?

Subaru: ...

Yui: Wait, he fell asleep...

( Even though we came back here, it might still be too dangerous to attend classes. )

( I do understand why we’re staying home but... )

I do think we should try and make up for all the missed classes by studying ourselves at home...

( Subaru-kun dozed off right away though... )

Subaru-kun, wake up?

Subaru: ...Che...What?

Yui: What do you mean? ...You’re already done with your school work?

Subaru: Done with what...? Pwaah...I never got started on that shit in the first place.

Yui: That’s no good. You have to do it.

Subaru: Who cares? We’re not goin’ to school anyway.

Yui: I mean, you’re right about that but...

( Hmー He’s not really working with me here... )

( ...Ah! Right! )

Hey, Subaru-kun.

Subaru: What? I’m not doin’ that school crap.

Yui: Um...Well, this would technically count as studying but...

How about I try and teach you?

Subaru: Haah? You’ll teach? Me?

Yui: Yeah! I mean, I’m a sophomore and you’re a freshman, right?

So I’m sure I could teach you a thing or two!

Subaru: Che...Suddenly pullin’ the senior card on me, huh?

Yui: So the answer is...no?

Subaru: ...

...Hmph, suit yourself.

Yui: Thank you, Subaru-kun!

I’ll try my best to teach you well, okay?

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: Um...Here you have to use the formula from earlier.

Subaru: Aah...This one, huh...?

*Scribble scribble*

Yui: Yeah, just like that!

( I didn’t expect him to actually get some studying done. )

( However, he’s properly doing it...I’m so happy. )

Subaru: ...Mmh. I’m done.

Yui: Really? Let’s check the answers then...

*Flip*

Yui: Ah...

Amazing, Subaru-kun! You’ve got them all correct!

Subaru: R-Really? Well, this is child’s play for me.

Yui: ( He always claimed to be bad in school but... )

( But perhaps he’s the type who does really well when he actually tries his best... )

Yui: It’s impressive how you got the hang of it in such a short period of time!

Subaru: Guess so.

Yui: Thenーー

Selection

→ Onto the next one! (S)

Yui: Onto the next one!

Subaru: Haah!? There’s still more!?

Yui: Eh? ...I mean, this is only the first workbook...

We still haven’t tackled English or Language (1), right?

Let’s breeze through them like you did with the math problems earlier!

→ Time for a break? (M)

Yui: Time for a break?

Subaru: Heh, not a bad idea comin’ from you.

Yui: I’ve heard that one’s concentration doesn’t last that long.

So it might be better to take regular breaks in between?

Subaru: ...

Nah, I think I’m done.

Yui: Eh...?

Subaru: I’m bored of it.

Yui: Eeh!? But we’re only on the first assignment...

Subaru: So what? I’m done with this fuckin’ borin’ shit.

Yui: No way...But you were doing so well too...

*Flip*

Yui: ( Huh? I saw something in his hand just now... )

Ah!! Subaru-kun, this!

These are the answers to the problems from earlier!

( Did he cheat perhaps!? )

Subaru: ...Well, guess I’m busted.

Didn’t you realize I was solving those problems while lookin’ at that page hidden underneath my desk?

Yui: I didn’t...I thought you were actually taking it seriously...

Subaru: Still, I actually held a pen for a bit so what’s the big deal?

Soーー

ー He pushes her over

*Thud*

Yui: Kyah...!?

Subaru: I studied just like you asked me to earlier.

So now it’s your turn to listen to me...

...Let me suck your blood.

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: No...Subaru-kun, wait...!

Subaru: Nice try...Nn!

ー He bites her

Yui: ...Uu...

Subaru: ...Nn...Nn...Haah...

...This is a much more enjoyable way to spend time...than to waste it on some stupid school work...

Hehe...

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Language classes in Japan are not actually called ‘Japanese’ (nihongo) but 国語 or ‘kokugo’ which means ‘language of the country/nation’. They usually read (classic) literature, analyze text passages, etc. 

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

<- [ Maniac 04 ] [ Maniac 06 ] ->

[lexosaurus]

Pink Astronaut

This is my secret santa gift for Anectoplasm on discord! Happy holidays, and I hope you enjoy!

Characters: Danny/Paulina Genre: Fluff Word Count: 4549 Summary: To Paulina's dismay, she and Danny Fenton must work together on their English final project.

Read on [ao3] [ffn]

---

It was Lancer’s fault, really. 

He assigned the class a partner-project for their final presentation, but being the annoying teacher he was, he had decided it was imperative that the students  were assigned to pairs of his choosing. Aka, no working with friends.

Paulina tried her best. Truly, she did. She batted her eyelashes and put on her most polite tone when she said, “Pretty please with extra whipped cream and a cherry on top, can I work with Star instead of Loser Fenton?” 

But, to her utter dismay, Mr. Lancer was a brick wall. No amount of wit nor charm could change his rubric, and so Paulina relented in a very much not dramatic final sigh as she resigned herself to be Danny Fenton’s English partner for the coming weeks.

Fenton was...well, he was weird. His parents hunted ghosts, he always slept through class, he was clumsy, and Paulina knew that in middle school Fenton was just like all the other boys who saw her as nothing more than a pretty face.

And that annoyed her to her core. She was a human, damn it! She had her own wishes and dreams and goals in life. Although she wasn’t vocal about it, she wanted to be a journalist when she was older. The kind that made it to shows like 60 Minutes, reporting on amazing stories from all around the world. She wanted to travel, she wanted to meet people, and she wanted to be the best at it. 

She was still a long way off from that now though. First, she needed to survive through this stupid English project with that weird nerd who had gone through a not-so-secret crush on her before.

Though, when she looked his way now, Fenton didn’t look all too thrilled to be partnered with her either.

She would have called it odd, but that had been their dynamic for a little over a year now. She guessed that Fenton finally got the hint and dropped his love struck puppy act. Maybe he and Sam had finally confessed their undying love to each other. 

It was probably for the best.

Fenton made no move towards her, instead choosing to stare dully into his notebook.

Paulina rolled her eyes and slid from her chair. She strode over to his desk, throwing a hand on her waist and looking down at him with an expression she knew would yield no arguments. “Alright, my house or yours?” 

“Huh?” Fenton said, recognizing a little too late that she was there.

“For the project? The one we were just assigned? Hello, Earth to Commander Fenton! My house or yours today?”

“Today?” Fenton blinked. “You wanna start today?”

Paulina narrowed her eyes. “Why, got something better to do?”

“Well—it’s just—”

“I’ll come over at four. I’ll be at cheer practice till then. If you want anything from Starbucks, just text me before then. I know Manson has my number, you can get it from her.”

She left him sitting dumbly in his chair. No one was getting in the way of her and that A, especially not some nerd who couldn’t even bother to care about school.

But, to Paulina’s surprise, Fenton actually opened the door for her when she showed up to his house that afternoon. Half of her expected him to blow her off, just ghost her and leave her to do all the work. And yet, he brought her into his kitchen, got out his notebook, and got right to work.

It was unnerving to see him so studious. She remembered Fenton as a nerd in middle school, but everyone knew about the absolute nose-dive his grades took once he got to high school. It wasn’t exactly a secret, what with him skipping class every other day.

The duo parted ways with a promise to meet up again over the weekend. Again, to Paulina’s pleasant surprise, he actually texted her to confirm their plans. And when Paulina stepped into the Starbucks that Saturday afternoon, Danny was already sitting at a table waiting for her, his notebook out and the project rubric between his fingers.

This much good luck was sure to run out, but Paulina just hoped that Fenton could last another few weeks before he inevitably dropped the ball.

Except, that never happened. Each time they set up plans to work on their presentation, Fenton would show up, he would focus on the work, and they’d part ways with plans to reconvene later. It was uncanny. It was so unlike everything Paulina had come to know of Fenton through these months.

And Paulina wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was who Fenton really was. 

Under all those disciplinary actions, the dropped beakers, the tardies, the unfinished assignments and failed grades, if this was hidden underneath.

So then that begged the question: why didn’t he show this side of himself more? Why was he failing if he was clearly capable of doing the work?

And so Paulina sat there, just a week before they were set to give their presentation, scrutinizing Fenton’s features as he recited a passage from the book they were analyzing. She noted the bags under his eyes, the bruise on his cheek, the way his face seemed to tighten every time he coughed.

He had arrived a few minutes late that day, and she remembered how he entered the classroom, his gate just a little too stiff to be natural.

Someone had hurt Fenton, Paulina realized. Someone had beat him up.

For reasons she didn’t know, hot anger flashed over her. Someone beat up Danny, a kid who was clumsy and could be a bit slow on the uptake, but someone who Paulina had come to understand was a rather kind and gentle classmate.

Yet someone didn’t care.

So the next day, maybe she stormed up to Dash a little too aggressively to demand, “What the hell did you do to Fenton?”

There was Dash, right on queue with his cocky laugh and a, “That nerd had it coming to him!”

“Are you kidding me?” Paulina yelled. “A week before our English final presentation and you punch Fenton across the face? Are you stupid?”

Dash’s smile dropped instantly, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Paulina, I didn’t—”

“You know how much this class matters to me, Dash! You know I wanna move up to honors next year! I can’t do that if you’re giving my English partner a goddamn concussion while we’re preparing to present!”

“Paulina!” Dash grabbed her arm.

“No!” Paulina ripped her arm away. “Don’t touch me, and don’t fucking sabotage—”

“I didn’t beat Fenton up!” Dash shouted. 

Paulina’s eyes narrowed. 

Dash held his hands up in a surrender. “I swear I didn’t beat him up. Ask Kwan if you don’t believe me. Honestly, I haven’t touched him in months. The—the coach told me that if I did well in school this year, I’d probably get recruited to college. I didn’t want to risk Fenton messing that up. I swear!”

Paulina stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to crack. But Dash’s panicked face held.

“Whatever.” She whipped around. “Tell your stupid friends to keep their hands off my project partner.”

“Consider it done!”

Paulina stormed off, ignoring the wide stares from her peers and the whispers of, “Did she just defend Fenton?”

She tried to block them out. They weren’t important. Her grades were important, her future was important, but those idiots? No, they meant nothing to her.

That afternoon, Danny was early. He was sitting there in the empty classroom when Paulina walked in, his head down to his paper, and didn’t even look up when Paulina gave her cheerful, “Hello!”

Well...that was weird. Sure, a few weeks ago, Danny mostly ignored her cheerful greetings in favor of getting ahead on the project, but Paulina liked to think that a mutual respect, or—god forbid—a friendship had been forming between the duo.

“Oof, cold shoulder? So not your speed, Danny,” Paulina said, plopping down to her seat.

Danny tensed, “I...uh, sorry. I’m tired.”

“Sheesh, alright.” Paulina slid her notebook out. “So we were working on the symbolism slide of the powerpoint, right?”

“Yeah,” Danny passed his notebook over to her. “I started parsing through the book at lunch today and found some good passages. Take a look.”

Paulina went to study the paper, but something else caught her eye.

Something on his arm.

Something that looked like a burn.

“Danny?” Paulina stared wide-eyed at the space of molten skin between his sleeve and hand. “What the hell happened to your arm?”

“Oh, I—” Danny slipped his arm under the desk. “I, uh, sorry. You see—”

“Whoa!” Paulina only caught a glance of his face before he ducked down again, but that split-second was enough. “What the hell? What happened to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Paulina saw red. “Oh, that idiot! I’m gonna kill him!”

Danny looked up, the multicolored patchwork of skin on his face finally fully visible to Paulina. “Kill who?”

“Oh, look at you! That asshole!”

Fenton winced. “Am I...am I missing something here?”

“I’m gonna kill Dash!”

“...Dash?” 

“I told him this morning to keep his hands off you! I made that asshole promise to me, and I told him to pass the message along to his stupid friends too!”

Something in Danny’s expression softened. “You told off Dash?”

“Well of course I did!” Paulina said hotily. “You’re my project partner! What kind of person would I be if I let you get hurt?”

“Oh well…” A smile quirked on Danny’s lips. “Thanks for that, but it wasn’t Dash.”

“Well then who was it? I’ll kill them.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“You’re right, death would be too generous. I’ll just destroy their reputation instead!”

A bemused look overtook Danny’s face. “Yeah, I have no doubt you would.”

“Tell me right now, Fenton. Tell me who did this and I’ll make them pay. You won’t have to worry about them ever again once I’m finished with them.”

“Oh, I…” The smile fell from Danny’s lips. “It wasn’t anyone. I just...fell.”

“You what?” Paulina’s voice rose in disbelief.

“Yeah, you know how clumsy I am.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He laughed awkwardly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I just—you know. I was walking in the hall, fell down some stairs, hit the stair rail at the bottom. Just typical weirdo Fenton stuff! Nothing you need to destroy anyone over.”

“Don’t play with me. You didn’t fall.”

“I did fall though! It was...yeah, you know how it is. I was walking and talking at the same time and just slipped and fell! Ah, stupid Fenton, am I right? Just always...falling.”

Paulina’s glare was hollow. “How dumb do you think I am, Danny?”

Danny froze, his rambling stuttering off into a tense silence. “What?”

“I said—” Paulina rose from her chair. “—just how dumb do you think I am?”

“Uh, sorry. I’m sorry. Look, I think we may have gotten on the wrong topic here.”

“No!” Paulina slammed her hand down on Fenton’s notebook. “This little tirade? This sham you’ve been pulling for the past two years? It’s bullshit, Danny, and you know it.”

“I don’t—I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do know! You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Paulina hissed. “We’ve been working together for weeks now, and you think you can just sit here and say you fell? To me?” 

“Well, sue me, Paulina!” Danny snapped. “Why do you even care, anyways? We’re not exactly friends.”

“Because you’re my project partner! Your grade is my grade, idiot!”

“Gee, I’m glad you only care about people when it affects your grade.” Danny shoved his notebook into his bag. “What an amazing quality to have.”

Paulina stepped back as if she’d been slapped. “That’s not true!”

Danny ignored her reaction, instead choosing to angrily zip up his backpack. “In case you haven’t noticed, your boyfriend’s been beating me up since we were five. I’m not sure why you’ve decided to care now, but if you want something to be mad at, maybe try being mad at the years of shit I’ve taken from you and your friends.” 

Paulina stood there seething as Danny pushed past her and stocked off into the hallway, slamming the classroom door shut behind him.

There was the Fenton she’d come to know in high school, this was the Fenton she remembered. The one who avoided questions, who put himself down to avoid suspicion, who left in the middle of class without saying anything, who no one could rely on.

But, perhaps more now than ever, Paulina could see just how much of a sham this whole act was.

Just how much he was using this face to protect himself.

But from what? From who?

Paulina tried not to dwell too much on the bruises, especially since they were gone the next day and didn’t reappear for the rest of the week. Of course, Dash swore up and down that he had nothing to do with Fenton’s appearance, and Paulina believed him. Dash could be a bit bullheaded, but he was still one of her closest friends.

For the remaining week they had to put their presentation together, Danny kept to himself, and so did Paulina. Whatever semblance of a friendship they’d built had disintegrated, and both parties seemed content to let it fall.

It made sense, logically speaking. Paulina was popular, Fenton wasn’t. Paulina was an extrovert, Fenton was an introvert. Paulina thrived in attention, Fenton shied away from it. They were like oil and water, a friendship just wasn’t possible.

The presentation day came, and the two spoke with confidence that could only have come from weeks of preparation. Paulina couldn’t help but glow under Mr. Lancer’s impressed nod. Their high marks from the project were enough to fulfill Paulina’s recommendation to the honors English course for the next fall.

And then the school year came to a close and finally, after months of hard work, they could finally relax.

But not before they celebrated first.

One of Dash’s good friends, Dale, had taken it upon himself to host the massive end of the school year party for the rising junior class at Casper High that year. His parents, being the weird sort of chill parents they were, offered up their lake house with the promise that there would be no drinking and driving.

The teens were ecstatic. 

Everyone—everyone—went to the party. Jocks, nerds, band geeks, theatre kids, every clique was represented at the lake house. And why wouldn’t they come? It was the end of the school year celebration! A time to rejoice in having survived another round of homework, tests, quizzes, and essays.

It was also a time where Paulina was once again reminded that yes, the theatre kids could in fact go shot-to-shot with the football team.

Fenton was there with his little group, but Paulina paid them no mind. This wasn’t the time to be worried about him, nor was it the time to feel any sort of guilt at the way their budding friendship just collapsed. She had her friends, why add another?

And it was just preposterous to imply that she missed Fenton.

Because she didn’t.

And yet, when the night was drawing to a close, Paulina somehow managed to find herself down by the lake where a skinny, black haired teen was sitting alone.

She stood behind him, unsure if she wanted to initiate contact. He’d made it clear from their last argument that he still held years of resentment towards her and her friends, and Paulina knew from experience that all that resentment couldn’t go away in one alcohol-filled night.

She turned to walk away, but something stopped her. Before she could question what she was doing or why, she found herself sitting down on the damp grass next to him.

“What are you doing out here?” Paulina asked.

“Oh, uh, hey Paulina! Fancy seeing you here.” Danny gave her a small wave.

“You too.” Paulina stretched her legs out in front of her, leaning back on her hands. “Some party, right?”

“Yeah, Dale was really nice to host this.”

“He’s a great guy. His parents too.”

“I bet.” Danny said. “How are your friends holding up?”

“Well, let’s see. Star just spent a half hour trying to convince me that aliens exist, and Dale’s currently comforting Kwan who saw a video of a puppy rescue on the side of the road and started crying, so I’d say they’re holding up pretty well.”

Danny guffawed. “No way!”

“I swear!” Paulina laughed. “This isn’t even the first time something like this has happened either. I swear, every other time we drink, Kwan always ends up in a corner somewhere watching animal videos on his phone and crying at how precious the animals are and ‘please, Paulina, can’t we just adopt one?’ He’s gonna be the death of me one of these days.”

Danny giggled, his laugh light and airy. Paulina watched him, amazed that they were able to just start talking again as if their fight had never happened.

“So what about you?” she asked. “What happened to your clan?”

“Sam had to drive Tucker home. He got too overconfident in pong.”

She snorted. “Dash is the same. He’s always like, ‘one more round, I’m gonna crush it this time’ and then twenty minutes later I find him asleep in a bathtub or something.”

“Dash drunk sleeping in a bathtub? Oh, that’s a sight I’d like to see.”

“I can assure you that photos exist.”

“The perfect blackmail.” Fenton shot her a grin. “Remind me to get one of Tucker next time he does something stupid.”

“And what makes you think you won’t be right there on the floor with him?” Paulina sassed.

“Hah! You’re probably right!” His smile fell, and he looked at her questioningly. “Hey, will your boyfriend be okay with you out here with me?”

“Oh, Dash? He’s...actually not my boyfriend.”

“Wait, what?” Danny jolted upright. He spun around to face her. “But I thought—”

“Yeah, everyone does. But we’re not dating.”

“Then why don’t you say something? Squash all the rumors?”

Paulina averted her gaze back onto the lake. It was a gorgeous night. Stars speckled the sky in a spectacular display, illuminating the Milky Way behind them. Amity Park was too industrious to see the galaxy, and Paulina couldn’t help but marvel at its sight. 

It was gorgeous. Vast. It seemed to never end. She remembered reading somewhere that the Milky Way could only be seen if there was no moon out.

Luck must have been on her side that night.

“Unless...you don’t want to.” Danny’s voice dawned a tone of realization. “But why?”

“I got tired of it all,” she admitted, her honesty surprising herself. “Guys only wanted to talk to me because they thought if they were nice enough, I would get in their pants or something. I got accused of friendzoning more people than not. Honestly, it was so annoying. I felt everyone saw me as some stupid object. So when the rumors started going around this year that Dash and I were dating, and a lot of guys in our grade started backing off, I just...didn’t fight it. I thought maybe finally everyone would see me as a person. Maybe people would take me seriously.” Her gaze dropped. “I don’t know if it worked, but at least now people don’t see me as some sort of prize so much anymore.”

Danny was silent for a moment, and Paulina immediately regretted her admission. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening her lips, but she doubted Fenton of all people cared. They weren’t even friends.

One side of her wanted to get up and leave, go back to her friends inside the house, but the other side of her was too embarrassed to move.

“That makes sense, honestly,” Danny finally responded.

A wave of relief washed over her.

“And I’m sorry that there was a time where I couldn’t see past your looks too. I was young, but that’s still not an excuse.” He shifted. “I’ve had some...things happen the past year, and they’ve really taught me a lot about judging a book by its cover.”

“What kinds of things?” Paulina said, hoping her voice didn’t betray too much curiosity.

There went that hand behind his neck again. He was nervous, Paulina noted.

“Oh! Uh...it’s a long story, but I just wanted to say that I understand. I get what it feels like to be judged based on surface-level stuff. I mean, Paulina, you’re really smart. I don’t know if I told you this, but I’m really glad we ended up partners on that English project. I would have been so screwed with anyone else.”

“Thanks, Danny,” she said, trying to fight the blush that she knew was tinting her cheeks. “I’m sorry for being nosy at the end there. I didn’t mean to corner you like that. It was really stupid of me to pry when you obviously didn’t feel like talking.”

“No!” he exclaimed “No, don’t apologize! I was just being sensitive. Honestly, I knew I looked like shit.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Look, I didn’t fall obviously. I wasn’t trying to play you, I just panicked. But...I’m okay now, really.”

He looked at her, and Paulina noted how his blue eyes seemed to dance under the light of the stars. How he sat up straighter, his shoulders rolled back and head held high. How yes he was thin, but not scrawny like he was back in freshman year of high school. He seemed toned, lithe, almost like a gymnast. 

Danny had definitely grown up in the past two years, but then again, so had she.

“I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m also glad I got to be your English partner too,” she said.

They sat by the lake watching the stars until the chill of the crisp spring air began to set in Paulina’s bones. She left Danny in favor of the warm house, but not without saying, “I’ll text you sometime.”

The summer came, and the ever so slightly intoxicated promise to hang out slipped Paulina’s mind. After all, she had months of sleep to catch up on. 

Fortunately for her, Danny remembered. 

It was a silly text, a meme about Shakespear. Paulina responded with the appropriate emojis, and tried to convince herself that the smile she wore was due to the funny image, and had nothing to do with the boy who sent it.

And a week later, he sent another one. This time, Paulina asked to grab a coffee with him. Catch up.

To her surprise, Danny agreed. They met up at the Starbucks and what Paulina thought would only be a quick catch-up session turned into a three hour long hangout. 

Despite his awkward demeanor, Danny was rather talkative. Especially when the topic revolved around space. Apparently, he wanted to work for NASA someday. He said it came from a childhood dream of becoming an astronaut, but overtime his interests shifted into rocket design and engineering. It helped that—according to Danny—his dad had built the equivalent of an ecto-rocket in his basement.

Paulina confessed that she wanted to work for 60 Minutes someday as a journalist. She dreamed of traveling around the world, collecting stories and meeting people. She explained that as a kid, she used to have to travel around the world for her dad’s work before he finally settled in Amity Park. And although she’d been living in Amity for years now, a part of her still missed those days where she was constantly exposed to new countries, languages, and cultures.

Danny listened attentively, reacting at the appropriate times and pressing for questions whenever she would trail off. Even though he had a reputation of never paying attention to teachers, he seemed to genuinely enjoy listening to her.

Eventually they parted ways, but they promised to hang out again. 

And again they did.

And again.

Again.

There were some topics that Danny seemed to skirt around, such as why he sometimes would show up bruised, or why he seemed to struggle to stay in class despite his dreams of working for a prestigious agency like NASA.

But Paulina was willing to ignore those demons because she liked Danny, and she didn’t want to say anything that would push him away. And, despite their differences, he seemed to like her back.

Summer drifted to fall, the leaves started to turn, and soon it was too cold to hangout outside. 

Which was how they found themselves here, in Danny’s room, laying on Danny’s floor watching Youtube videos, their math homework long since abandoned beside them.

It was a nerdy video, one about bizarre planets that existed in space. One that Paulina would never have watched on her own, but Danny seemed positively riveted at. 

His eyes were bright and attentive, and every so often he’d point to the screen and go, “Look!” as if Paulina wasn’t watching the same video.

It was...adorable.

His excitement rivaled a child on Christmas. And as interesting as the video was to watch, Danny was even more so.

The video ended, but Paulina hardly noticed. All she could see was the grin on Danny’s lips, the freckles dotting his cheeks, the way his hair sat on his head like a soft cloud.

“So? What did you think?” Danny asked.

“Cute,” Paulina responded. “You’re cute.”

Danny blinked, his mouth turning to a little “o” shape as red tinged his cheeks. He started to stutter, to try to brush Paulina off, but she held onto his shoulder and said, “Danny, I think you’re cute.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyes wide. “I think you’re cute too.”

Paulina closed the gap between them, closing her eyes. His lips felt soft against hers, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Her hands trailed up to his hair, and she curled her fingers through his soft hair.

He was gentle, as if he were afraid to hurt her, and his skin felt cool against her own. Secretly, Paulina had always loved that about Danny, the fact that his body temperature seemed to run lower than normal. And now she could cherish this all to herself.

Danny’s hand wrapped around her back, gently pressing her closer. His touch was electric, and Paulina could have melted right there. She pressed further against him, deepening the kiss.

They stayed in each other’s arms, enjoying the moment for just a few moments longer before Danny pulled back. He looked at her, his eyes sparkling, and said, “You’re beautiful.”

There were some things Paulina didn’t understand about Danny. There were some things he was still closed off about, things he didn’t want to speak about. And eventually, Paulina would bring those things up, she would get answers. Eventually, she would uncover all the secrets, all the layers to the enigma that made up Danny Fenton.

But right now?

Right now she was just going to enjoy the moment.

[my-unmanageable-mischief]

Valentine’s Day

For the Anon who requested : hi lovey in time for valentines could you write a harry fic about it?? (-: maybe something that starts angsty and then ends in fluff

Not too too angsty in the beginning, I’m bad at writing angst, but I hope you enjoy it! 

Harry Potter x Reader

“Where’s Y/N?” Hermione asked, sitting beside Harry, who was sulking on the sofa. He shrugged slightly, playing with one of the pages of his 6th year potions book.

“I don’t know,” Harry answered drily, not looking at his friend. “I haven’t seen her.” 

“Is everything alright?” She prodded gently. Harry didn’t answer for a moment, still not looking at her. He didn’t partially want to talk about you at the moment. 

“We had a disagreement,” He finally admitted. He didn’t tell Hermione why or what it was about. He didn’t need her to confirm that it was his fault, he knew that already. 

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Hermione sighed, “It’ll be alright, I’m sure you two will work it out.” Harry frowned, setting the book aside, taking his glasses off to rub his face. 

“I’m not so sure this time,” He whispered, “She’s pissed, rightfully so.” Hermione nodded her head, patting his arm gently. 

“What happened?” Harry sighed again. He’d been a rotten boyfriend all year, and you had so much patience with him. He barely spoke to you, caught up in his own head- his own problems, he couldn’t even see you were struggling as well. He took your love and time for granted, and you had told him so, and even then he didn’t see how hurt you were. He had argued with you when you came to him, asking for him to consider your feelings and he felt like an idiot now. 

“She was upset, I reacted badly.” Harry admitted finally. All you wanted was for him to consider you. But he was so caught up in himself he couldn’t. Your last words before you stormed off still rang in his ear. ‘You spend all your time, every waking moment thinking about the bloody half-blood-prince, maybe he should be your girlfriend.’ and Harry knew you were right. But for some reason he simply couldn’t stop himself. 

“Harry, have you tried apologizing?” Hermione asked and he huffed. Of course he had. Sorta. Not really. He should have. But in the moment of your fight he couldn’t let go of his own righteousness to see the bigger issue. He should have told he was sorry, and that he loved you, and that he would try and spend some time being your boyfriend again. You were right. You used to study together, eat your meals together, even sometimes just wander the halls together, but so far, this year, every time you had asked that of him Harry had some excuse. Mostly that he was busy. 

“We just argued, then she stormed off, I didn’t get the chance.” He shrugged, waiting for Hermione’s I told you so. She patted his arm again, making him look at her. 

“I’m sure that’s all she wants.” Perhaps, but you deserve more than just words. “She loves you, Harry, one little fight hasn’t changed that.” Harry hoped she was right. He couldn’t lose you over something so stupid. Just then you entered the common room flanked by a few of your friends who you’d been spending more and more time with. Harry looked over at you, standing from the sofa. He needed to apologize. 

“YN!” He called, you glanced over at him, “Can we talk?” 

“I’m busy right now.” You answered simply as you kept walking with your friends, past him, and right up the girls staircase. Harry fell back into the sofa, covering his face with his hands as he groaned. 

“I’m screwed.” Hermione frowned, glancing at the stairs then to her friend. 

“I’m sorry, she needs time. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, why don’t you try and do something nice for her?” Hermione offered helpfully. Valentines Day, Harry had almost forgotten, that would have really added fuel to the fire. He nodded, gears in his head beginning to turn as he tried to think of something worthy of you to give. 

“That’s a good idea,” He nodded again, getting up from the sofa, he grabbed his potions book and Hermione glanced at it from the corner of her eye. “Thanks Hermione!” And with that he turned, disappearing up the boys stairs in the same way you had a moment before. Harry was gonna make it up to you. 

  You woke up to a vase of flowers with a note on your nightstand, smiling slightly to yourself. You sat up, touching one of the flowers gently before grabbing the note to read it. 

/Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N. I love you, and I have another surprise for you later tonight if you’re willing to see me. Meet me in the common room at midnight. 

Love, Harry/ 

You smiled gently at the note, placing it beside the flowers. You glanced at Hermione, knowing she probably placed them there for him, she made eye contact with you and you mouthed a small ‘thanks’ to which she nodded. You got out of bed, going to the loo to shower for the day. 

You got dressed in something cozy to combat the rainy weather outside and went down to the common room. Harry was sitting on the sofa in his Quidditch gear, Ron across from him in an armchair, when he saw you he stood up, his hands held nervously in front of him. 

“Y/N,” He greeted you, you smiled softly, coming to him. You reached him and stopped, hesitating for a moment before leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. 

“Thank you for the flowers.” You murmured, Harry relaxed and pulled you into a hug, dropping a kiss onto the top of your head. 

“Of course, Happy Valentine’s Day, love.” 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Harry.” You smiled into his chest before pulling back, “Do you have Quidditch practice?” You asked, playing with the front of his uniform. 

“I do, it won’t be for long, promise. We can study for a bit afterwards, can you help me with charms?” He offered up and you smiled, looking down. You patted his chest and nodded your head. 

“Of course, that sounds nice. And at midnight?” You asked, glancing up at him, Harry grinned, pulling you into another hug. 

“That’s a surprise you’re going to have to wait for.” He spoke gently, glad to have you back in his arms- he couldn’t stand it when you were upset with him. You chuckled and pulled away from him. 

“I’m meeting some of the girls in the library, have fun at practice, I’ll see you later.” He held onto your hand a moment longer, squeezing it tightly. 

“Alright, have fun.” 

  Harry was true to his word, you spent the rest of the day, once he was done practicing, just sitting in the common room doing assignments together. It was nice to finally spend some time with him, you had missed him. When it was time for dinner you ate together alone, which you appreciated. Usually you just sat with him and Hermione and Ron, which you didn’t mind, but it was nice to get some well needed alone time with him. 

You ate, alternating between talking about your week and Harry making jokes so you’d smile. He missed your smile, more than he liked to admit. He took your hand in his as you sat and you smiled up at him. You could never stay mad at him for long. And it was obvious he was making an effort just for you. 

Later that night in the common room you sat with him and his friends, his arms around your shoulder. At around ten you said your goodnight, planning on spending some time getting ready before your surprise at midnight. Harry planted a small kiss on your lips before you went and Ron blessed you with an ‘ewww’. Everything felt like it was going back to normal. You were grateful. 

At midnight you snuck from your room and down to the common room, where it was empty. You looked around for a moment and suddenly Harry appeared, taking his cloak from him, you gasped, placing a hand over your chest. 

“Merlin don’t do that!” You whispered, and Harry grinned cheekily at you. He came over to you, throwing the cloak over you as well, “Where are we going?” You asked hopefully. 

“I don’t you, you can’t know yet.” You whined as Harry guided you from the common room. He placed his arm around your shoulder as you walked and you leaned into him, smiling. You reached a statue and Harry reached his arm out from under the invisibility cloak to touch it, when he did it moved. 

“Are we leaving the castle?” You questioned him and he shushed you as he helped you into the secret passage. Once the Statue moved back, you were plunged into darkness. 

“No, not quite,” He assured you, removing the cloak and lighting the end of his wand, you took his free hand, gripping it tightly. “Scared?” He teased and you shook your head. 

“No, it’s just... spooky.” You admitted softly, and Harry pulled you closer. “Are you just trying to make me scared so we can cuddle?” You asked, “You don’t need to take me to some dark and dingy corridor for that, you could have just asked. Harry laughed and shook his head as you walked along. 

“No that’s not my motive, I just wanted to bring you somewhere we could be alone.” You grumbled as you continued to walk, trying not to trip over rocks as you went. 

“Coulda be alone and warm in the common room,” Harry shook his head, nudging you. 

“It’s an adventure, Y/N.” You laughed at that. 

“Everything is an adventure with you, Harry.” You informed him and he shrugged innocently. In the distance you saw the soft glow of some light and you stopped walking, tugging on Harry. “Someone is there!” He kept walking, tugging you with him. 

“No they’re not, that’s your surprise.” He assured, but you were still worried as you walked towards the bend in the corridor. When you turned you stopped, gasping. 

“Oh Harry!” You gushed, looking at the scene, “When did you do this?” There was a blanket sitting on the floor and a million candles charmed to float around the area, basking it in a warm glow. There was a box of Honeydukes chocolates and a small wrapped present sitting on the blanket. Harry put his wand out and tugged you forward again, sitting and pulling you with him. 

“After you went upstairs, I came and set everything up.” He admitted and you smiled, leaning against him and looking around at all the candles. 

“It’s romantic, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me,” You assured him but he shook his head. 

“You deserve to know I love you, and I haven’t been doing a good job at it recently, I needed to show you how worth it you are.” You took his hand in yours and smiled softly at him, and he placed a small kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry I’ve been a shite boyfriend.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry, I may have overreacted.” 

“You didn’t,” He assured you seriously, “You were right to call me out, I got defense that’s why we fought. Not because of anything you did. Because I was a git.” You brushed some of his wild curls from his face and smirked. 

“Yes but you’re my git.” You promised him, and he leaned in for another kiss which you happily returned. When he pulled back he grabbed the box of chocolates, handing them to you. You happily opened them, grinning ear to ear. 

“They’re my favorite, thank you, love.” He nodded his head watching as you popped one in your mouth before offering to feed him one as well. He opened his mouth and you placed the chocolate there smirking as you chewed. 

“Delicious,” He laughed with his mouth full and you giggled, cuddling into his side again. When he swallowed he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. “I really am sorry.” He reminded you, and you smiled again, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“I forgive you,” You promised him, “I just missed you. I was worried you didn’t.. Want to be around me anymore.” You admitted softly. Harry kissed your temple, shaking his head. 

“Of course not, I love you.” You smiled up at him.

“I love you too,” Harry reached past you and grabbed the small wrapped parcel before handing it to you. 

“I got you something.” 

“I didn’t get you anything,” You admitted sadly, “Who's the bad girlfriend now?” Harry shushed you, shaking his head. 

“Not you, just open it.” You sat up slightly, gently unwrapping the box, then you opened the box revealing a soft maroon colored material. You pulled the item from the box and unraveled it, it was a lovely silk scarf in Gryffindor red. 

“I love it!” You grinned, wrapping it around yourself. Harry grinned back, gently touching the material that was now around you. 

“I hoped you would. Hermione helped me pick it out last Hogsmeade trip.” He admitted, “You know I’m bad at gifts.” You chuckled, grabbing his face and kissing him deeply. 

“I love it,” You repeated. “I love you,” 

“I love you too, Happy Valentine’s Day, my girl.” You continued to grin happily, looking at the scarf then to your boyfriend. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” Harry flushed slightly and shrugged his shoulders. 

“I ask myself the same question every day.”

[heximagines]

Vincent fluff? Vincent Fluff. 

--

You’d been in Ambrose for 6 months. 6 months since your life was thrown on it’s back and the only thing that ket you alive was simple kindness. As stupid as it sounded it was the only logical explanation you could think of for why Vincent hadn’t killed you. You treated him like you’d treat anyone else. Sure you’d initially found his mask a bit disconcerting but you genuinely loved his art and were eager to share your own with him, much preferring his company to the sleazy guy running the gas station. You only expected this to be a pit stop. You pulled off to gas up and check out Trudy’s World Famous House of Wax on your way to New Orleans and here you were. Never to leave again, if Bo and Vincent had anything to say about it. Your eyes trailed from your sketch book back up to your most frequent subject. Vincent was sat on a stool across the room working on his latest victim. The poor bastard came to town alone, just as you had, and was all too easy for Bo to take out. Your eyes trailed back down to your paper as you once again tried to capture Vincent’s powerful yet elegant hands in graphite. 

Since you’d been trapped here Vincent had been assigned your keeper. He didn’t want to kill you then he had to keep you alive and keep you out of Bo’s sight. For the most part it was an easy job. He just kept you down in the workroom with him and when someone came to town he brought you though the tunnels and up to a small bedroom he’d lock you in with the promise he’d get you when it was safe. Sometimes it’d be hours before you saw Vincent again, battered but still alive. You sketch in the tiny scars along Vincent’s hands unsure if they were from his sharp tools or people who’d fought for their lives, you really weren’t sure if you wanted to know. 

You reached up to rub your sore and tired eyes. It was near impossible to tell what time it was, trapped in this lair. In some ways you wondered if Vincent also felt trapped down here. A slave to his work. You were unsure of when he slept, ate, or showered. Sometimes you wondered if he did at all. The only thing that indicated any passage of time was a small alarm Vincent kept on his workbench. When the alarm chimed Vincent would insist on you eating, hungry or not, and after your second meal he’d have you pick out clean clothes and usher you upstairs to shower. He’d only tried this after the third meal once which resulted in an unfortunate encounter with Bo. You weren’t sure what shocked you more how quickly Bo had grabbed you by the neck or the way Vincent shoved him away and stood between you two and ate the onslaught of  verbal abuse. That particular night Vincent sat with his back to you while he worked. Your hand stilled as you looked between Vincent and your drawing. This one wasn’t as good as the others, you supposed you were just sleepy, but you turned the page and begin again. Determined to get it right before you fell asleep.

If Vincent was going to keep you alive and safe, then the very least you could do him was some justice. Right?

--

It was late into he night and Vincent could feel his eye struggling to stay open blurring his vision. He stretched his arms skyward and looked over at you. You’d fallen asleep in an overstuffed reading chair he’d moved from his father’s office for you. It was where you often fell asleep, curled up with a sketchbook in your lap and his dog at your feet. He smiled fondly behind his mask before putting his tools away. He’d worked enough tonight he needed to get you to bed and get some food in his stomach. 

He didn’t know how else to show you other than keeping you safe, but you’d been a light in the darkness for Vincent since you’d first met. You didn’t scream when you saw him, you didn’t run, you didn’t treat him like a freak or a monster. You treated him like a person. 

Vincent got up from his stool and walked quietly over to you, ready to scoop you up and put you in bed but he paused when he saw your sketchbook was still open and your pencil was hanging limply from your hand, now worn dull and without an eraser. He gently took the pencil, making a note to replace it and maybe give you some pens too, then he held up the sketchbook. you’d always closed it before going to sleep and Vincent wasn’t one to peek but this image caught his eye. It took a moment before he realized it was... Him. Vincent felt his heart squeeze inside his chest as he flipped though the pages. Most of them filled with his likeness. Him sculpting, him playing with Jonesy, him reading. Vincent’s hands shook and he could feel his eye begin to water. 

After a long moment Vincent finally collected himself and set your sketchbook on the shelf he’d reserved for your things, along with a jar filled with pens and pencils before scooping you up and carrying you over to the cot in the corner of the room. He laid you down gently and covered you with a blanket, his hands combing through your hair. He watch as you settled in and curled back up before letting Jonesy join you, stretching herself out at the foot of the cot. 

Vincent thought to himself, if you were going to be so kind to him then the very least he could do was keep you safe.    

[the196thbattalion]

star wars human! high school! au

i’ve seen so many headcanons circling throughout the star wars tumblr about high school au’s, so i wanted to share my bit with all of you :D

anakin skywalker

five words: REBEL CHILD ON A MOTORCYCLE.

he doesn’t like riding the school bus because it makes him feel extremely claustrophobic, so he scrapped and scavenged up parts to make his own customized motorcycle, which he lovingly dubbed artoo.

the blue and silver detailing was the joint effort of ahsoka and obi-wan, because anakin doesn’t know how to paint.

if he can catch up to the bus, he’ll ride alongside it and flip off the students on it before revving on ahead of them. (the freshmen think it’s the funniest thing in the universe)

probably one of the most well-known juniors in the entirety of temple high school (mostly because of his shenanigans but partly because he’s dating padme fuckiNG AMIDALA, PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE DAMN SCHOOL)

he always wears this worn-down leather jacket his mom gave to him before she passed away, and refuses to take it off, even though it’s somehow “a violation of the dress code and should be outlawed.”

his hair alone has seduced eight different students (boys and girls)

sometimes during study hall, ahsoka or padme will get a hold of his hair and style it into little braids or make a super rad ponytail.

he really likes iced coffee with milk and sugar. he puts in the milk to make it nice and light (it’s aesthetically pleasing, obi-wan!), and then like eight tablespoons of sugar to make it actually taste good.

his favorite class is mechanics, taught by kit fisto.

anakin spent months on a mechanical arm project to replace his clunky plastic prosthetic, and he was so freaking happy when it was finished; he almost cried. (he did cry and ahsoka got it on video)

obi-wan kenobi

a mixture of the soft™, pretty™, hippie™, grunge™, vsco™ and nerd™ tropes.

he really likes peppermint tea with lots of honey but takes his coffee black.

he has had too much tea.

someone needs to stop him.

almost all of his classes are ap courses, and if cody hadn’t been watching when obi-wan was making his schedule, all of them would be.

him, cody and padme have ap english with mace windu, and cody knows how much his classes stress him out, so he lets obi-wan sleep during class and sends him the notes

the only ap class obi-wan doesn’t take is mechanics, and he shares that class with anakin.

anakin and obi-wan are super close with each other. kenobi was there when ahsoka was adopted, and anakin was there when kenobi got his cat. (they were like 5 okay)

“NAME IT C3PO OBI-WAN, OR I SWEAR TO FUCK-” “what kind of name is that, and why would i - anAKIN PUT HIM DOWN!?”.

mr. fisto constantly has to split them up for disrupting the class, but it’s almost like they can communicate telepathically, and the teachers have a running bet

mace windu literally bet $50 on these fucking nerds so you know it’s for realsies

in reality, they’ve just gotten super creative with passing notes.

kind of off topic, but he has these brown harry potter glasses that he uses (kinda for reading???? but mostly so he can do that anime pushing up glasses thing)

cody thinks it’s the funniest shit ever

whenever cody is feeling stressed, obi-wan just does the thing™ and BOOM! happiness.

people think he’s a goodie two shoes, and honestly, it’s really easy to think that. if the iconics are trying to do something stupid, he’s usually the voice of reason.

but parties?

…

you know what, just ask anakin for the video footage.

ahsoka tano

this hs!au ahsoka tano turned me bisexual confirmed ✔

okay before i go into her style, which is mainly what made me drool over my computer, can i just put skatergirl!ahsoka out there?

spray painting of the rebellion symbol all over the bottom of her board and on items in a couple of the places where she skates the most (like the back of an abandoned car yard)

her instagram is filled with these super cool vhs-tape recorded skate videos (u know)

lots crackhead 3am visits (starring anakin, rex, kenobi and barris) to a gas station to get slushies and grind the shit out of the curb connecting the store to the parking lot

trying to teach anakin how to skateboard but he just can’t figure it out? uh yes

“try to balance skyguy!” “HOW DO I MOVE? DO I SCOOT? SNIPS THIS ISN’T FUNNY AND I WANT TO GET OFF – GUYS, STOP LAUGHING!”

okay okay okay i’m done

for now

anyway, her style???? is so???? fucking????? cool!!!!!

her genetics gave her a 80% of having vitiligo, so it really wasn’t a surprise when patches of her skin got lighter, but it still freaked her out a little bit.

basically, went like this: “DAD, I’M TURNING WHITE!” “???? oh my gosh ‘soka, no.”

she has long braided dreadlocks she dyed a super bright orange with various colored beads woven into them with the help of anakin and padme. she usually styles them into little space buns atop her head.

her entire clothing wardrobe consists of fishnets, neon bomber jackets, at least 11 bisexual beanies™, handmade patchy jeans, white tank tops, and light-up platform shoes.

she doesn’t give two flying fucks about the dress code, and – IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MOST BUSY HALLWAY - punched principal sidious over whether or not she “could wear shorts that short” (anakin may or may not have cheered when she broke his nose).

the fetts (chuck have mercy)

*cracks le knuckles* i’ve put it off long enough

we have: fox (24), wolffe (19), cody (17), rex (17), echo (16), fives (16), boil (15), waxer (14), hardcase (13), jesse (12), longshot (8), kix (6), tup (3), gree (2) and boba (9mo)

wolffe is off at college - fox already graduated and moved out, that cheeky little fucking shit - but both still keep in good contact with the fam, and it’s a constant clamor between eleven of the siblings of who gets to talk to them first

fox majored in government/politics, bly is majoring in space/astronomy, and wolffe is majoring in police/law enforcement shit (i don’t know how college works, so sue me)

cody and rex are juniors, and despite their similar looks, the amount of schoolwork each of them completes drastically varies

cody is the honor roll student, valedictorian, whatever you want to call it

rex kinda just either does the work really well or 9/10 times gets distracted by anakin or ahsoka sending him some nice spicy memes

cody tried to tutor rex but it ended up almost landing tup in the hospital

“that’s really simple, actually. if you – vod? rex, are you okay? what are you oH NO TUP DON’T PUT THAT IN YOUR MOUTH-”

fetts on the varsity football team is like a right of passage in the family

right now, only the juniors of the fett family are on the team, but the coach has eyes on fives and echo for next years team

SPEAKING OF

echo, fives and boil are the infamous sophomore trio that pulled the milk bucket prank on the gym teacher, pong krell.

they had to help the janitor (99) clean up afterwards, but they genuinely enjoyed 99’s company, because he’s rad as shit and knows all the secret school passageways.

to be honest, not one person (except maybe sidious) was complaining

that motherfucker makes everyone run like eight laps during gym class

even mr. windu gives them a small smile in the hallways after that

boil says he was blackmailed into it

waxer is a freshman (the poor dude, i’m so sorry), and he always looks out for the nervous freshies

if someone is having a bad day, he’ll give them a lollipop (he carries around a whole bag), a place to sit during lunch, and a shoulder to cry on

all you need to do to find waxer is to locate this long ass line of children

the school counselor, plo koon, sometimes brings his niece numa into school during the day because he can’t find a babysitter, and waxer. fucking. loves. her. PERIOD.

w+n pull these tiny little pranks on teachers, and the staff pretends not to notice, but numa always giggles and gives them away.

boil has a soft spot for numa too, and sneaks her rice krispies.

bonus shit i want to add in but can’t figure out where to put it (or i’m just gonna add it on and shit)

plo koon adopted anakin after his mother died (him and anakin’s mother were good friends), and found ahsoka on the side of the street, shivering like a maniac.

he doesn’t know where ahsoka came from, but he loves her so gOD DAMN MUCH.

he’s the school counselor, and still keeps in touch with a lot of students even after the graduated (he thinks that majoring in law enforcement/police is a bit dangerous for wolffe but he still supports his unofficial but basically son 100%)

yoda is the super old but radically rad english teacher.

his entire point of existence in my mind fic is to troll the shit out of palpatine.

a recent conversation starring yoda and palps: “did you give the students the mountain of extra work i assigned them?” “for the students, that was?” i’m sorry. my bad, that is.” “this is the seventh time, yoda.”

okay but for real

mace windu violently roots for the school football team.

“BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM, CODY! YOU TOO...OTHER CODY!”

“THAT’S A HOLDING! THAT’S A HOLDING!”

“REF IF YOU DON’T COUNT THAT TOUCHDOWN THEN I SWEAR TO SAMUEL L. JACKSON I WILL COME DOWN THERE AND BEAT YOUR SORRY PINSTRIPED ASS!”

[padfootagain]

Always

Next trope for my winter event will be one bed, with our favourite Jedi, Obi-Wan!

I hope you all like it, it's just fluff!!

Do I know anything about the climate on Alderaan in winter? Absolutely not, but I don't exactly care.

Gif not mine

Word Count: 3097

There was snow outside, and a loud wind blowing. Sky grey with clouds that didn't seem willing to move away, and speeders hurrying back and forth through the main street. The town went on for miles all around you, and yet it was merely a little city for the planet's standard. The complicated and elegant architecture, showing the wealth and skill of the people of Alderaan, made every building magical, and the white snow that had settled on the crevasses of the sculpted façades made it all the more beautiful.

However, you were not on Alderaan to enjoy the magic of the wintery season. You were there on a mission for the Jedi Order.

Your friend Obi-Wan was accompanying you to retrieve and bring back to the Senate a valuable copy of the decree stating the partnership between Alderaan and a nearby planet of their system. It wasn't exactly the most excited mission you had been on, or so you had thought. That was before your contact on the planet was found dead.

And now, you and Obi-Wan were on the run.

You had left the capital for this little town, and hoped to find a way off the planet as fast as you could. However, the magical weather seemed to play against you, and all the transports were stuck on the ground until further notice.

You had no choice but to hope for a better weather the next day, along with a safe passage off the planet.

Your hand came to nonchalantly rest upon your chest, touching the decree safely hidden in your long brown robes.

The sun was setting already, the season shortening the days, and the question of finding a shelter for the night started to seriously worry you.

"I think there is a hotel of some sort, straight ahead. Do you see it? Up the street," Obi-Wan told you, as if reading your mind.

You hated it when he acted this way. When he answered your question before you could ask it. You had no doubt that it wasn't a mind trick, your own defences were way too powerful to allow anyone into your thoughts, talented Jedi or not. He just knew you that well. After years and years of friendship, training together as Padawans, now both of you Masters, you knew each other better than you knew yourselves. And sometimes, you hated the fact that he simply knew you too well.

"I'm freezing," you admitted, tightening your robes around your shivering frame. "We have to find shelter for the night.

"We will."

Ha, that overconfident tone of his. You hated that as well about him, it was driving you up the walls.

Which he clearly felt, as he turned to you with an amused smile, and that made you even madder.

Although, you weren't angry, just mad. There was a difference between the two when it came to Obi-Wan: he was annoying you to no end, and yet you could never be tired of his presence by your side.

You chose to ignore his glance, and hurried up the busy street instead. Up ahead, a speeder was stuck under a deep layer of snow, and five people were struggling to get it out. Had you not been under such danger yourself, you would have gladly used the force to help them. But you couldn't take the risk to draw too much attention to yourself. You reckoned your Jedi clothes were doing a good enough job for that already. Which brought you to your next worry.

"We should change our clothes tonight," you told Obi-Wan. "Our robes are kind of… not mingling well with the scenery."

"You're right," he agreed with a nod.

"We should find some new clothes before going to that hotel."

"Where to?"

You looked on both sides of the street, and spotted a shop a few meters further. Obi-Wan silently followed you there.

It was a strange thing to be on a mission with him again. You hadn't since the beginning of the war. He was always off somewhere playing the General, while you were more on spying missions than pure military. Your skills for reckon missions were of value as well, and you seldom found yourself in big battles Obi-Wan had grown used to handle. You were surprised by the Council's decision to send the two of you to Alderaan, especially with Anakin and Ahsoka off fighting a battle on the other side of the Galaxy. But who were you to question the Council's orders. As Obi-Wan kept on reminding you, if you had wanted to change their minds, then you shouldn't have refused the seat that was offered to you.

However, you were aware that politics were far from your forte. You were a woman of actions first. Obi-Wan was 'the Negociator', he was the one in your team with good words and manners who was able to sort any situation – or most of them at least – by talking his way through it. You were more of a lightsaber sort of Jedi.

Maybe that was the reason why the two of you worked so well as a team. If Obi-Wan was more diplomatic than you, you were also quicker at taking decisions and weighing risks. Besides, you were both gifted with a strong bond to the Force and great skills in combat.

Oh, and you loved flying still, unlike him.

You bought some warmer clothes and hid your lightsabers well under your coats, along with the decree. Your own clothes were hidden in a backpack you bought. You were thus wearing some brown leather pants, large boots perfect against the cold, and had bought a new brown coat designed against the dropping temperatures. Obi-Wan had settled for some classic beige pants and a long coat as well. You were now better equipped to walk through the city unnoticed. And well, the way he looked in these clothes didn't make things easier for you, but you tried to push the thought in the darkest corner of your mind and walked on.

You weren't aware of the fact that Obi-Wan was thinking the exact same thing about your civilian clothes, but he did. He would never confess some thoughts to you though.

The snow fell even more heavily than before, by now, it was almost impossible to see more than a few meters ahead. The speeders had all stopped, and the wind blew stronger. With that kind of weather, you would probably stay stuck on Alderaan longer than a night. You pushed the thought away though. No need to darken a future so uncertain, you forced yourself to focus on the issue near at hand. You reminded yourself of the old lessons your master had told you, about focusing on the present. You didn't always respect the lessons you had once been taught though. By your side, Obi-Wan's beard was covered with white snowflakes by now, and the sight brought an amused smile to your lips.

You walked inside the hotel a few minutes later, and asked for two rooms at the reception.

Waiting for the employee to check the rooms available, you couldn't help but eavesdrop the conversation between two men behind you in the hall.

"They're Jedi, they won't be hard to spot! Long cloak and lightsaber at their belt, and it's done!"

You and Obi-Wan exchanged a silent glance.

"The reward is huge, there'll be a lot of people on the bait!" the other thug replied.

"We're the first to know about it, we are one step ahead! Come on, let's look for them! We'll check the spaceport first."

You gave Obi-Wan a look that meant 'I told you so' while the two bandits exited the building, and the Master by your side gave you an approbative nod. You had been right to change clothes. And not only because Obi-Wan looked very handsome in these ones…

The employee of the hotel came back, but there was only one bedroom left. You couldn't take the risk to remain out in the open, and you both knew it. So, you took the key with a nod as a thanks, and went off looking for the right room.

In the elevator, Obi-Wan heaved a sigh, and brushed the snowflakes off his beard.

"Looks like we're not the only one stuck here for the night," you pointed out in a conversational tone.

"Indeed." Obi-Wan nodded, still stroking his beard.

"It also means that the men after our… package are still here as well."

"You heard the two geniuses in the hall. They're just the beginning of our trouble."

"We should call Anakin and Ahsoka in reinforcement. They could be an entire army for all we know."

But Obi-Wan shook his head.

"They're busy enough with their own assignment. Besides, if we can't fly off the planet, then they can't fly to the planet either."

"That… is a valid point. But maybe they can reach someone who can help here."

"Or we can handle the situation ourselves. Since when do you think twice about fighting?"

"I don't fight battles I cannot win. Then I avoid them your way."

"Negociating?"

"Running away."

"Ha… very funny…"

He was looking for an ironical tone, but ended up chuckling.

"Besides, with Anakin as a Padawan, falling back is sometimes the only way to avoid having him doing something stupid and ridiculously dangerous," he went on, but you shook your head with amusement.

"Excuses, excuses…"

The door of the elevator opened, leaving you to a sight of a richly decorated corridor, although it seemed a little old-fashioned. You found your room easily, and were not surprised to discover the only bed there.

"I'll take the ground," Obi-Wan spontaneously proposed, but you merely rolled your eyes in answer.

"Don't be ridiculous. For how long have we known each other?"

"Far too long to answer that question."

"With the weather outside, it will get colder in too. You'll freeze without a decent blanket. Don't be ridiculous."

"I was simply being… polite."

You rolled your eyes again, but there was a playful smile on his lips that made you wait for his next tease.

"I heard that you didn't like sharing a room with Master Windu…"

"He snores!" you replied.

"So if I do snore…"

"I will throw you out. Yes. Precisely."

You both held each other's gaze for a moment, serious, but it only lasted an instant. Before long, you both broke into laughter.

"I will wake you up if you snore though," you warned him more seriously, and he merely doubled with laughter.

You didn't like the way his laugh made your heart warm in your chest, as if it turned into a burning star. You didn't like how happy it made you to be near him now. You didn't like how much you trusted him. You felt guilty for it all, and at the same time, not guilty at all. You couldn't see how your feelings for him could be a bad thing, they felt so… right.

You dropped your guilt to the ground, and smiled at him instead. After all, these feelings were far from new. It seemed they had always been with you, for as long as you had known him. And you knew he felt this way as well.

The knowledge that he felt the same came piercing your heart in every happy and painful ways possible. Because the man you loved shared your feelings, but you couldn't be together.

A Jedi's life was a lonely one.

"Right or left side?" Obi-Wan asked, throwing his coat onto the chair and nodding at the bed, tearing you out of your thoughts.

"Right, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind."

You both got ready for bed, and soon, you were both under the warm blanket, lying in the dim light coming through the curtains. The yellowish glimmer of the street lampposts and the houses all around gave a strange atmosphere to the room, soothing and warm and familiar. Obi-Wan could feel the way your weight shaped the mattress, the way it yielded under you, caving in to embrace your shape. He could feel how the blanket wrapped itself around you as well. He wished he could hold you the way the bed embraced you. But he couldn't.

There was a whisper coming from the street, from the humming of the speeders and the distant conversations. It was soothing, so much so that it was already lulling you to sleep. And Obi-Wan could feel it, by the way you rested on the bed, by how your breathing became deeper and deeper. It wasn't very surprising that you would be exhausted, the mission was intense and dangerous. You must have been just as exhausted as he was.

He could feel your hand close to his, just a few centimetres away, and yet unreachable. But at least, you were here.

Obi-Wan relaxed, after being vigilant for so long. He couldn't help it, not while he was lying by your side. Your presence was too soothing for him to stay as tense as he was before. You had always had this way to soothe him, calm him down, which he didn't like at all, because it was terribly unproductive for his work. He needed a certain level of tension through his body to be as aware of his environment as the situation required. But then, you came along, and he was doomed to fail.

He closed his eyes, and focused not on the soft sounds of the street but on your breathing, on the rhythm with which you inhaled and exhaled, and he pictured the air passing your lips in one direction or the other while all tensions left him. The sound was more reassuring than any other sound in the universe. Except for your laughter, perhaps.

He was about to surrender to sleep when your rhythm changed. Becoming a little more erratic, breaths held longer. You let out a little groan.

And then, you snored.

Not too loudly, but enough to be called a snore, and Obi-Wan's awareness focused again, as he smiled at the sound. He forced his stingy eyes to open and he looked at you.

Lips slightly parted, and hair already a mess, you looked so peaceful then. He couldn't stop his mind from thinking beautiful too, and he hated himself for it. He wasn't supposed to feel the way he did for you, the Order held strict rules against it all. And yet, how could his love for you be wrong when it felt so… right.

You snored again, more loudly this time, and after a few minutes, Obi-Wan knew he wouldn't be able to sleep if you kept on snoring all night long.

So, he gently rubbed your shoulder, until the sounds disappeared and your eyes opened.

"Som'ing wrong?" you mumbled with tiredness and sleep distorting your words.

"No, we're safe. You're just snoring."

You rubbed your eyes, chasing sleep away, and frowned.

"Me? Snoring?"

"I bet it was worse than Master Windu…"

"Ha… very funny," you replied in a yawn.

"Sorry to wake you, but…"

"No, no. You did well. Sorry."

You turned to your side, hoping that the change of position would solve the problem. You were facing Obi-Wan, who had turned to his side with you.

You kept on staring at each other for a while, none of you noticing your smiles. It just felt so right to be this close, staring at each other, studying the other to carve their features in your mind so you would never forget them.

A thousand words could have never expressed the way you felt for each other. There was something that ran deep into you that was entirely his, and there was a part of him he treasured that belonged to none but you. It was ineffable, the way you felt for each other, and there was no more certain truth than the knowledge that you would both forever feel this way.

And the words could never be openly spoken, you could never confess your feelings for him, and he could never speak out loud how much he loved you. None of it mattered though. You didn't need to say it all, your eyes spoke better than your tongues then. Or sometimes, some innocent words held more meaning than their mere definition.

"Obi-Wan?"

Your voice wasn't even a whisper, it was just a breath leaving your lungs, delicate and fragile that could have been destroyed by a mere breeze. But in the quiet room, it was more than enough for him to hear.

"Yes, Y/N?" he answered, his tone as soft as yours.

"I just meant to say…"

That I love you more than anything, that I'll never stop loving you. No matter if we are separated by galaxies or death or mere inches, I'll always love you just as ardently and my heart will always be yours.

"It's good to work with you again," was all that passed your smiling lips.

He answered your sad smile by one of his own.

"I just…" you went on, stuttering under his intense blue eyes. "Of all the Jedi in the order, you're the one I trust the most. I know… I know you'll be here for me if I need you."

Your hand rested on the sheet between the two of you, barely inches away from his fingers. And a thousand times before, he had stopped himself from reaching you, and he knew he would stop himself a thousand times more in his lifetime.

But not this time.

This time, his fingers crossed the unreachable distance, to rest upon yours, and you held hands, trying to carry all your love and care for each other through the tender gesture.

But his eyes spoke better, and when he answered, his words meant so much more than what they were supposed to mean.

I love you, Y/N. I always have, and I always will. No matter if we can be together or not, my heart will forever be yours.

It did not matter that he couldn't actually speak his mind nor act the way he longed to, though. It had never mattered, and would never matter. Your love was more than kisses and touches, it was a feeling transcending rules and time and space.

You loved each other, and it was all that mattered. And when he spoke, the promise was meant for him being there for you, but for so much more as well. You knew it, and it was enough.

"Always, Y/N. Always."

 ************************************************************************* 

Tag list : @ponycake27​ @horsesreign​ @xinyourdreamsx​ @jbluevelvet​ @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss​ @stuckupstucky​ @snek-shit​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @i-padfootblack-things​  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi​@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy​ @addictedtofictionalcharacters​ @wangmangagavroche​ @yana-versio​ @goldenor5​

[fa1rytunes]

pairing: xiao/chongyun rating: mature word count: 3k tw: implied rape attempt tags: atypical angel/demon au, suggestive themes, dirty talk, finger sucking, mutual pining, soulmates

> NO ONE UNDER 16, SUGGESTIVE CONTENT <

ao3 link: here other notes: written for xiaoyun weekend day 1, angel/demon au

When faced with the fact that they have all eternity to be together, angels Xiao and Chongyun choose a path much different from that of their demons.

It was a rite of passage. Usually, they’d have done it alone, but Xiao and Chongyun were like two peas in a pod. One moved, the other followed like his shadow. They completed each other so perfectly, so uncannily perfectly that they had to do it together.

Meeting their assigned demons for the first time, that is.

Both of them sort of hoped that, after meeting their demons, they’d be able to safely return to the tranquil life they’d been living as companions.

They didn’t know why they had been matched together, but it was not exactly uncommon for angels to work in pairs. However, at first glance, Xiao and Chongyun made an odd duo.

Xiao had become an angel after living a very troubled mortal life. He had his fair share of blood on his hands. And… It wasn’t all good blood to have on one’s hands. While he had spent most of his mortal life working as an emergency surgeon in an ER, he had also lived a double life, helping criminals. He wasn’t sure he really deserved to be made an angel, but the role seemed perfectly suitable for him, because of his tendency to save and protect anyone who asked.

As for Chongyun, he wished he could remember his mortal life. Instead, all he had to cling onto was the immediate pull he felt towards Xiao after he opened his eyes next to him in the afterlife. Like quite a few angels, his memory had been wiped clean. This was a new beginning for him. No one really knew why some angels remembered their mortal lives and some didn’t, but all figured it was part of someone’s plan. Nevertheless, what remained of Chongyun’s mortal life was his personality: meek, but always cheerful, trying to keep a positive outlook on everything—quite the opposite of Xiao, who had a temper that pushed away pretty much everyone else. Only around Chongyun did his temper mellow out, but nobody quite understood why.

The both of them spent some time in the angels’ realm, getting acquainted with their new state of existence and learning how to use their wings. They knew that this time wouldn’t last.

The notion of time had little meaning to angels, but all angels were fated to meet their demons, and to engage against them into the eternal struggle to keep them from wreaking havoc on the mortal realm. But just like no one had had to explain angels how to fly, or how to cross the boundary between the angels’ realm and Teyvat, nobody had to tell Xiao and Chongyun that the time to meet their demons had come. It was a question of instinct, really. Nobody had to tell them where to go, either.

And thus, they found themselves in familiar territory—for Xiao, at least. The high cliffs surrounding the pool in the middle of Wuwang Hill were a sight he remembered very well from his mortal life. Fireflies floated around the calm waters of the pond, and the sound of frogs and crickets singing into the night filled the atmosphere. Many times he found himself in this area for stargazing. Part of him feared that the fond memories attached to this place would be tainted by what they came there to do, though.

Chongyun gave his hand a firm squeeze.

“It’ll be alright,” he said quietly.

Xiao gave a silent nod in response. He didn’t have the heart to explain Chongyun how he felt, but maybe he didn’t need to. It seemed like Chongyun could read him like an open book, and that was often a relief, for Xiao was not particularly skilled at putting his feelings into words.

They walked alongside one another, their steps in sync on the rocks in the pond, and then on the dirt path that meandered through the hills and the forest. A warm, humid breeze swirled around them. Chongyun’s hand felt cool and soft under Xiao’s fingers. It always did.

They exchanged a quick glance as a wave of shivers ran down their necks. They’re here.

A honeyed laughter echoed from their right, just beyond a large rock on the side of the path. When they came into view, Xiao and Chongyun frowned in unison.

It was easy to guess that those two really were Xiao and Chongyun’s demons. Their resemblance was uncanny. The other Chongyun looked like a splitting image of the one standing next to Xiao, only, he was dressed in navy blue instead of white, with lighter blue details. The other demon was bare-chested, and dressed in red instead of jade green and purple.

What was most troubling, though, was how they acted.

They were laying down in the grass, the demon who looked like Chongyun on top of the one who looked like Xiao, and it took both angels a moment to realize where the demons’ hands were going. They were going in… not very appropriate places. One was firmly groping the other’s ass, and the other’s hand was dangerously close to the first one’s crotch. And they were… aggressively making out. The demonic Xiao lookalike interrupted his kissing session to look up.

“Oh, look, there they are, finally,” he said.

The Chongyun lookalike turned around to stare at the two angels.

“Hm… They look so stiff. Are they made out of cardboard or something?” He nonchalantly trailed his hand on the other demon’s chest.

“Darling, you know all angels are made out of cardboard. They can’t take a joke, can’t have fun, can’t have sex. That’s how dull they are,” he sneered.

Xiao turned around, letting go of Chongyun’s hand, but Chongyun caught his arm.

“I’ve seen enough,” he hissed through his teeth.

He spread his wings, ready to fly back to their home, but Chongyun held firm.

“Are you sure that’s all we need to see?” the blue-haired angel asked.

“Whatever more they have to show us, I don’t want to see,” he replied.

“Oh, a little flustered by our display of affection, are we?” Chongyun’s alter ego asked, smirking.

“Oh, don’t tell me… Those two haven’t fucked yet?! Wow, I’m impressed. Maybe angels really are that prude,” the other demon replied, chuckling.

Xiao itched to shut them up, but he knew that the demons were deliberately provoking them. Getting them to react was, without a doubt, the demons’ goal from the get go. That was the reason Xiao wanted to fly away. That, and the fact that seeing both demons so obviously touching each other, making it very visible that their relationship went way beyond Chongyun and Xiao’s companionship, roused a strange confusion deep within his heart, and he was not sure he wanted to face those feelings.

“Oh—could it be…?! Could it be that they haven’t even told each other they like each other? Oh, dear Abyss, I don’t believe it!” Xiao’s lookalike added.

Chongyun scowled. For the first time since Xiao and him had met, the contact of his hand on Xiao’s arm felt warm, not cool. Concerned by the sudden change in his companion’s energy, Xiao turned back to Chongyun.

“Let’s just ignore them and get away from here, they’re doing this on purpose, they just want to provoke us,” he whispered next to Chongyun’s ear.

Chongyun gulped. His face was painted red all over and, if he had been a mortal, his heart would’ve been racing in his chest at that moment. Xiao felt a squeeze from Chongyun’s hand on his arm and guessed how flustered the blue-haired angel was.

Chongyun wouldn’t have had any qualms about leaving right away if the demons had been wrong about everything they’d said so far. But they weren’t.

The two demons burst into a fit of laughter at the same time.

“Oh, in the name of the Abyss Prince, just look at them! They’re so stupid, they haven’t even realized why they feel pulled towards one another,” the demon who looked like Chongyun exclaimed.

He wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Damn, guys, you’re really passing on an occasion. Did you know that Xiao has a huuuuge cock?” he added. “I mean, look at that bulge!”

Just as he spoke, he stroked the other demon’s crotch through his clothes, and the other hummed in satisfaction, canting his hips under the touch.

“And it just so happens that my darling right here has a mouth perfect for dick sucking, among other things,” the demon looking like Xiao added, grabbing the other demon’s chin and pulling his mouth open.

Without any care in the world, he shoved two fingers inside the blue-haired demon’s mouth, to which the demon replied by greedily licking and sucking on them.

Chongyun was standing there, speechless, and Xiao spoke into his ear again.

“Let’s go, I’ve seen enough,” he growled.

Chongyun snapped back to his senses.

“I… Yes, okay, let’s head back,” he said.

They both turned their backs to the demons and spread out their wings, ready to take flight.

“Oh no, look, honey, it seems like our little angelic guests already want to flee! We can’t let them get away with this, now, can we?” Xiao’s alter ego cooed. “The fun is only starting…”

“Got it,” the other demon replied.

The next moment, Xiao and Chongyun had to jump back to avoid getting slashed by the greatsword the demon waved in front of him. The air temperature dropped sharply, and the angels’ exhale produced mist in front of their mouths.

“Out of our way, hellspawn,” Xiao snarled, calling forth his jade polearm.

“Funny you should say that,” the Xiao double said from right behind the angel. “With the kind of blood you have on your hands, don’t you think that I should be the angel, and you the demon?” He let out a sinister cackle.

Chongyun moved behind Xiao, facing his companion’s red-clad lookalike.

“Careful, demons, you know our strength is equal. There’s no use in fighting,” the blue-haired angel declared.

“Yes, we may be matched in strength, but as for cunningness, we certainly are not,” the demon replied. “Be careful, you two, we just might be able to trick you.”

He smirked, and winked. Chongyun’s claymore materialized in his hands and he lowered his stance, waiting for the demon to attack. On the other side, Xiao and Chongyun’s demon glared at each other with eyes that could kill, silently observing each other, waiting for an opening to strike. As soon as the blue-haired demon moved to swing his blade, Xiao got ready to parry. They engaged in a fierce battle behind Chongyun, delivering hit for hit, without any sign that one of them was going to win over the other.

The noise of the struggle distracted Chongyun for a moment, and thus, he barely had the time to jump to the side to avoid his opponent’s spear. The demon used this opportunity to sneak much closer to Chongyun, grabbing him by the collar and knocking him off his feet. He then jumped on top of the blue-haired angel, holding him down with his spear across the throat.

“Hey, Chongyun, I should take you for myself, make you my little fucktoy, don’t you think? Since Xiao is too stupid and too much of a coward to take you…” the demon said, licking his lips.

“You’re dreaming, malignant spirit,” Chongyun uttered through clenched teeth.

He kicked his knee up into the demon’s stomach, knocking him off from him. While Xiao’s double was getting back up, Chongyun sprinted to Xiao, who was barely dodging the attacks from his opponent. Without a word, the blue-haired angel spread his wings and kicked the ground, and flew just above Xiao, grabbing his outstretched arm in the process and lifting him up in the air. Once they were out of sight of Wuwang Hill, Chongyun dropped Xiao down, and Xiao stretched his wings to fly alongside Chongyun.

Their trip back to the angel’s realm happened in a stunned silence, both of them too unsettled and confused by how the encounter went to dare speak up yet.

Once they finally settled down under a tree, sitting side-by-side, gazing far away into the horizon, only then did Xiao speak up.

“I’ve never heard of demons being this aggressive before,” he let out. “We’re not supposed to fight, it’s pointless.”

“I trust you on that one… you’ve hung around other angels for a long time before we met,” Chongyun replied, and his hand found Xiao’s.

“I have… I was waiting for you,” Xiao quietly said.

As he intertwined their fingers, Chongyun thought about their alter egos’ words. The sight of them making out on the grass had felt surreal. Deep down, the blue-haired angel knew that Xiao and himself were soulmates. There was no denying the pull they felt towards one another. It was magnetic. Most angels met their soulmate in the afterlife, that much was to be expected. But a soulmate could take on the role of a friend, of a sibling, of a parent, and, of course, of a lover.

And although they had spent all this time together, none of them had dared to make the first step towards making their relationship more than platonic.

Now that their demons had made it very obvious that this was a possible outcome for their relationship, the idea seemed almost repulsive to him. Wouldn’t it be the equivalent of giving their alter egos victory over them, to make their relationship more than friendship? Chongyun shuddered at the thought.

And yet, when he looked at Xiao, when he felt the warmth of his fingers between his own, when his eyes dived into the smouldering amber of Xiao’s eyes, Chongyun had to admit to himself that he had thought about kissing him.

He’d thought about it, and then abandoned the idea, because what if Xiao doesn’t want their relationship to be that way? What if they were only meant to be friends?

Chongyun wished that the mysterious entity who was in charge of all of this—angels, demons, soulmates, the structure of the universe, everything—had provided them with more than instinct to deal with all of this.

As naturally as the leaves fall down with the coming of colder months in the autumn, Chongyun’s head fell onto Xiao’s shoulder, his eyes still lost on the horizon. In front of them rolled the grassy, soft hills of this corner of the angel’s realm. Trees grew behind them, forming a dense forest, and the singing of birds and the soft rustling of the wind through the tree’s leaves filled the air. There was nothing but peace, nothing but softness to be found in this realm, and yet, Chongyun’s mind was filled with confusing thoughts brought about by their arch nemeses. They had introduced chaos in their blissful retreat, and for that, the blue-haired angel could not repress a hint of anger.

Xiao wished he could ignore it, too. He knew, deep down, that what he felt for Chongyun was more than friendship, more than a family bond. But he was in no hurry to explore that, since they had all of eternity to fall in love. He wanted to discover Chongyun piece by piece, to learn every corner of his soul, patiently. But their encounter with the demons had casted a seed of doubt in his mind. Xiao had never been one to be forthcoming with his feelings, but perhaps taking his time was a waste, since he knew what the outcome would be, in any case.

He looked down at Chongyun, at the crown of icy blue hair, soft against his bare shoulder, and sighed. Why did it have to matter that their demons teased them about taking their time? Why did it have to matter that they handled their relationship how they saw fit? Just because their demons were very obviously much more than friends didn’t mean that Xiao and Chongyun had to be more than friends right away.

Plus, just because the Sustainer had intended for their demons to be romantic soulmates didn’t mean they had the same plan for Xiao and Chongyun.

But… There was little doubt in Xiao’s mind that this was what the Sustainer had intended. The flutters in his stomach when his gaze crossed the crystalline purity of Chongyun’s eyes, or when the other angel leaned against him like this, or when their fingers intertwined like it was the most natural thing in the world, none of it could lie.

And so, when Chongyun sat up to ask Xiao if he was okay, sensing the trouble within his heart, it was a bittersweet smile that painted itself on Xiao’s lips.

“I’m fine… it’s just…”

“They… they were right.”

“Yes. But… it doesn’t mean that we have to be like them,” Xiao said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Chongyun said, and he smiled.

He took in a sharp inhale before continuing.

“But… I still want to kiss you. And I know that it’s giving them—”

Chongyun could not finish his sentence, not as Xiao leaned forward and closed the space between them in a soft, warm kiss.

“It doesn’t matter what it’s giving them. This is us, it’s none of their business,” he huffed, softly cupping Chongyun’s cheek.

Chongyun’s face had heated up a few degrees, his cheek now feeling warmer than usual under Xiao’s fingers.

“Y-yes but… a-are you…” Chongyun mumbled, trying to get a hold on himself.

“Sure about this? Yes.”

The blush on Chongyun’s face was renewed, and Xiao let out a light chuckle. They were definitely quite different from their demons. Time had little meaning to angels, yes. But it was because they had so much of it that they could afford to take things slow, to savour every bit of the pleasure of falling in love gradually, to learn each other’s mind patiently like a map, one street, one avenue at a time.

“Okay,” Chongyun murmured, and he laid his overheated cheek back against Xiao’s shoulder as he leaned against him once again.

There was not much to add, for everything left unsaid would eventually be said, when the time would be right.

If you liked this, please leave a Kudos on ao3! And you can also comment there, I read and reply to every comment. :)

[fairynavi]

unbearable

a haikyuu x reader ficlet

words: 3.01k

pairing: tsukishima kei x reader

warning/s: just pure fluff about to be thrown your way my dude

Tsukishima Kei has never pegged himself as the romantic type. Yamaguchi can confirm. The blond has never read any of those romance novels during his leisure time, he never pays attention to the dramas his mother watches on TV, and he's never thought twice about dating someone.

He's never fallen in love with someone. He thought it was dumb to fall in love, Romeo and Juliet being a good contender as to why love is such a complicating yet stupid thing. He believes that loving someone romantically is a bother, that's why he's never looked at anyone that way. He's merely protecting himself from getting hurt from love because everything that's said in those romance novels are exaggerated, he tells himself.

Tsukishima was content with everything he had as of now. He's okay with focusing on self-improvement, he doesn't need to value or think of other things.

That is until you showed up.

You're a first year manager, alongside Yachi, of the Karasuno Boy's Volleyball Team and Tsukishima immediately deems you as another person to avoid because the first person you got along with was Hinata. Just like with everyone else, he doesn't interact with you that much, and only says what's necessary when he has to talk to you.

Unfortunately for him, he finds out that you're classmates.

Tsukishima doesn't memorize everyone's names in his class, he doesn't feel the need to do that ever. Once classes end, he's immediately off to practice with Yamaguchi, that is unless he's assigned for cleaning time, so he doesn't even remember you right off the bat.

During English class, the teacher picks you to read a passage from the story that you were analyzing. Being fluent in the English language, this didn't bother you at all. So you stand up and begin reading. Everyone's eyes are on you. They've never heard you speak English before, so they're all definitely surprised, especially a certain tall blond a few seats away from you.

'She's eloquent...', he thinks. Of course, that's what anyone would think if they heard you speaking right now. He's staring at you, and he only realizes when he hears the teacher commend you on your English. He's trying to focus on the lesson, but his mind keep coming back to you and your voice. It's lovely, and soothing in a way. He feels his cheeks heat up a little from thinking about you too much. He finally calms down and focuses back on the passage.

As classes end, the blond sees Yamaguchi begging something from you. As he gets closer, he learns that the other boy is asking for English lessons from you. Yamaguchi notices the taller boy and give him a quick greeting before giving his undivided attention back to you.

"Yamaguchi-kun, are you sure you want me to teach you English?"

"Of course, [Y/N]! There's no one else I know who's as insanely good in English as you are!"

"Well, alright. I guess I can teach you English."

"Teach me as well." Tsukishima finally speaks. Almost in sync, Yamaguchi and you whip your head towards the tall boy's direction. You're just as surprised as Yamaguchi is from Tsukishima's sudden and very surprising request. Tsukishima, of all people, is asking for help. He must be having that much trouble in English to ask someone else to help him.

You're the first to break the uncomfortable silence and you agree to teaching the both of them the subject, Tsukishima is forever thankful for you taking the initiative in changing the awkward atmosphere between the three of you.

Over the course of a few weeks, he's warmed up to you. He talks to you a lot more now, and very rarely he actually engages in the conversation first, but those were usually about homework. Thanks to Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, you've developed a good amount of confidence in your skills as well. You're much more social than you were before, though that's because of Hinata's influence on you, and you participate in a lot of the class activities, be it extra curricular or just favors from your classmates.

Tsukishima always thought you'd eventually forget about him and Yamaguchi, so he stopped himself from getting too attached to you, but to his surprise, you never said no to Yamaguchi whenever he asked to hang out. Sure, you've made a lot more friends now, and you've gained some popularity as well, but you never strayed too far away from the first friends you've ever made.

Not only are you smart, but you're also incredibly kind and selfless, traits Tsukishima never understood. You'd almost immediately, and sometimes literally, drop whatever you were doing and go and help them with whatever they need assistance with, even if it's a little request like taking the trash out to the garbage bins behind the school. You basically thrived off of helping out, and Tsukishima is beyond intrigued by you.

You see, Tsukishima has never seem himself as selfless. He only does things that benefits him. He'll only agree if something is of use to him. To put it in other words, he's selfish. He's never done things to help others, he'll only do so if necessary, such as group projects. He's never the type to consider actually helping someone out because he just felt like it. If it benefits him, he'll do it, if it doesn't, he won't. Simple as that.

Before Tsukishima's even realized it, he's staring at you as you talk to a classmate of yours. Unfortunately, Yamaguchi notices the boy's lovestruck state and decides to initiate a conversation with him. "Tsukki, you've been staring at [Y/N] a lot," He says, catching the taller boy's attention. Tsukishima's eyes dilate in his sudden approach, his cheeks having a tint of pink, and he glares at his friend.

"Shut up, Yamaguchi."

"Sorry, Tsukki, but I'm just surprised how she hasn't noticed just how much you stare at her."

"... Is it really that obvious?"

"To me, it is. To her, it isn't."

Tsukishima groans internally. He didn't even notice that he was staring for so long until Yamaguchi brought it up. No, he will not admit that he was admiring you. Never. He'll get over this, right? This is just a one time thing... right?

Wrong.

He wants to get closer to you now. He wants to interact with you every day. He wishes he sat near you so he could ask for a pencil just so he'd have an excuse to talk to you. He hoped that his heart would stop beating faster whenever you looked at him and smiled. He hoped that his cheeks would stop growing pink whenever you laughed at a corny joke Hinata made. He hoped that his legs wouldn't get wobbly whenever he hears the mere sound of your voice. He hoped things would just go back to normal. But just hoping wouldn't work.

Tsukishima Kei has undoubtedly fallen in love with you.

And he's realized that when he overheard a conversation between you and a male classmate;

"Hey [Y/N]."

You stop erasing on the chalkboard and turn to face him properly. You dust off the chalk dust on your skirt and blouse and reply, "What's up?"

"I was wondering... Could we, you know, meet- uh, meet behind the school later? Before your club activities, of course..." He was clearly blushing, everyone could see that, he was fidgety, and he stuttered a bunch of times. Anyone could already tell where that was going. Except you.

"Oh, of course!" You smile innocently at him, as he smiles back widely. He goes back to his group of friends with a very victorious look you were unable to see. As you turn around, you are met with a pair of familiar pair of eyes, staring you down as if you did something unbelievable.

"[Y/N], what was that about?"

"I don't know, he probably needed help with something. Maybe homework. But he could've just asked me right here, it's not like I would judge him for asking for help. Maybe he's just shy, who knows?"

Yamaguchi face palms at your response, you're even more confused. The green haired boy looks at you in disbelief, and sighs in frustration, "You know what, I'll leave that to you to find out."

Yamaguchi did say he'll leave it to you to find out, but he needed to know how things would turn out. So he dragged Tsukishima along with him, who silently agrees to following you behind the school, despite you telling them that Daichi or Coach Ukai might get mad at them for being late. Yamaguchi, bless his soul, told the two of you that he would take responsibility and would take any punishment that went along with it.

The two boys hid behind the corner of the building, listening closely to your conversation with your classmate.

"Nakamura-kun, why'd you ask to meet me here?" You ask him, clearly not understanding the atmosphere that was around the both of you. Anyone who would catch you there would understand what was happening, but unfortunately, you just couldn't predict what was going to happen.

He stood there for quite a bit, fidgeting, and avoiding eye contact with you. His face seemed all red and you began to worry if he was getting feverish from all this. You take a step forward and he immediately freezes up from you getting close to him.

"Nakamura-kun."

"Y-Yes?!"

"Are you feeling ill? You look red. Maybe you should go to the clinic."

He shakes his head repetitively, saying he wasn't ill and that he really had something to tell you. You nod and wait for him to say it, as you didn't want to make him uncomfortable enough than he already was.

"I... I really like you, [Y/N]!"

"Oh? I like you too, Nakamura-kun."

Yamaguchi face palms. Tsukishima stifles a laugh.

"Really? Then, will you go out with me?"

"Go out? Right now? But I still have club activities." You tilt your head in confusion as he fumbles to find the right words.

"No! Not right now! Maybe on Saturday! Yeah, does that sound good?"

"Oh, perfect, I'm free that day. So which subject are you having trouble on? If it's Math, I can't really help you with that."

Yamaguchi is currently trying to stop Tsukishima and himself from laughing out loud.

"What?" He looks at you, his life draining out of him.

"We're talking about homework, right? Oh! Did I get it wrong? Did you need help with another thing?"

"[Y/N], no. I meant... I meant like go out on a date! Like a romantic date!"

You squint your eyes at him as you process the words in your head. One by one, the cogs in your slow brain finally start moving, and you finally get what he's trying to say.

"Oh, like those dates you see in the movies? I'm sorry, Nakamura-kun, I'm just not the person you should be liking, there are a lot more girls there that will surely make you happy. I'll just make you frustrated, I'm sorry. I really am." You bowed at him politely but he assures you that he doesn't need you to apologize, he just wanted a proper answer from you.

Hearing you say that made Tsukishima's heart drop. You were already aware that you'd make people frustrated with you, and he didn't want you to think that way. He felt a strong desire to change that, but you guys were just friends, he doesn't have a right to change anything about you, he doesn't even have the chance to.

You turn around to see Yamaguchi snickering like a kid and Tsukishima just looking at him with his signature annoyed look. You laugh and them and begin dragging them to the gym, where you were met with an annoyed coach, a concerned Daichi, and very curious players.

Despite having rejected that boy, there were still other people from other classes who tried to woo you with their pick-up lines, but you never really got them, so you just laughed and nodded in hopes of them not getting hurt by you not being able to comprehend any deeper meaning to what they say.

"Does your hand feel heavy, [Y/N]-san?"

"No? I don't think it's possible for a hand to feel heavy?"

"Nevermind."

You tried your best to understand, you really did. You just wanted to keep up with their pick-up lines, but you just couldn't do it. You've never had that kind of experience, so it was hard to understand what they were trying to say.

But without realizing it yourself, you were also beginning to get interested in a certain tall blond classmate. You quickly dismissed these reactions as something everyone can experience, you weren't the only one, of course. Everyone feels this way around Tsukishima. Right? Right?

"[Y/N], I can very much confirm that not everyone feels that way towards Tsukki."

Oh.

"So, your legs don't get wobbly and your heart doesn't beat faster around Tsukishima?"

Yamaguchi laughs and you feel yourself feeling embarrassed as he does so. You give him a light punch on his arm, since you can't reach his head, and cross your arms, a pout present on your face.

"[Y/N], I'm not in love with Tsukki."

In love? Is that what it is?

"I can't be in love. I don't even understand what love is enough to actually feel it." You say, trying to convince yourself more than you're trying to convince Yamaguchi, who only shrugs at your response.

"If you say so, [Y/N]."

The next few days were weird.

For some godforsaken reason, Yamaguchi had convinced Tsukishima to at least flirt with you a little bit, having learned that the blond was hopelessly in love with you, even though the taller blond told the other that you'll have the same reaction as you did with those other guys that tried to do a pick-up line on you.

The first time he tried to flirt, which was a pick-up line about a highlighter and brightening up his world, it turned into you telling him a story about how you accidentally drank water with highlighter ink thinking it was some kind of juice. He was actually immersed in the story sometimes, teasing you about how you couldn't recognize the color of the highlighter.

The second time he tried to flirt, where Yamaguchi would "accidentally" shove you into Tsukishima, he pushed you too hard and ended with you sitting on top of a very uncomfortable and potentially hurt blond.

The third time he tried to flirt, where he intended on staying close to you a lot, like sitting next to you during study sessions, walking next to you during the walk to the gym, just staying close to you in general, you didn't at all notice because you just thought it was normal for friends to do that, all the while trying to ignore your loudly beating heart.

The fourth and final time he flirted with you, was when you finally confessed to him.

Tsukishima is an observant person, so he's probably noticed your mannerisms around him by now. How your tone of voice changes when you talk to him, and how easilt flustered you get when you talk to him. He thought he had a chance, and he was right.

"I don't really like talking about feelings that much but Yamaguchi told me to tell you everything that I'm feeling. So, here goes nothing, I guess."

You take a deep breath and you suddenly feel as if the ground was shaking. You're terrified, but you have to do this. You've already committed to this. There's no turning back.

"Tsukishima, whenever I look at you, I feel really happy. Your voice makes me feel like I'm on the comfiest pillow in the world. Whenever you do that really cute smirk when you tease Hinata or Kageyama, it makes me laugh a lot. You're weird."

"Excuse me?"

"Shut up, I'm not done yet."

You inhale once more.

"You're really mean to Hinata and Kageyama, and you're also unintentionally mean to a lot of our classmates, but I like that about you. Whenever you offer to help me with Math, I kind of feel sad because I'm supposed to be the one doing all the helping!"

"You don't always have to help-"

"Let me finish! You're actually really nice, you know? I saw you playing with a stray cat the other day and giving it food and it made my heart do flips! You looked really cute. I don't know how to express myself properly, and when I try to, it's word vomit. I want to learn and try to be better for you, I want to know what to do with this slow brain of mine, and I really really want to do all those romantic stuff with you."

You're in the verge of crying, but you quickly wipe away any evidence of you crying.

"I... I think I like you, Tsukishima."

He doesn't say anything and you feel embarrassment creeping up behind you. The air is suffocating and you want to run away, but you legs are stuck to the ground. You feel ashamed in the other's presence, wanting to dig a grave and rot in it.

Then, you feel big arms wrap around your smaller frame, pulling you close to his chest, as he buries his face on your shoulder. He only hugged you for a while, as he isn't that type to prolong skinship.

You clear your throat and break the short silence between the two of you, "I've been meaning to ask. Did you flirt with me earlier?"

"Have been for the past week, but thanks for noticing." He replies almost immediately as you just stand there in shock.

"Oh."

"You're unbearable, [Y/N]."

You look up at him and laugh, punching his chest lightly.

"But you love me."

"Yes, yes I do."

this is my first haikyuu character x reader ficlet so i hope you at least like it a little bit hahahah

[aliveanddrunkonsunlight]

Date tag - January 28

January 28 - Angst with Confessions

Author’s Note: So one of my weird, obsessive interests is war correspondents. I’ve read lots of books by them and lots of articles, including this amazing one about female war correspondents. There really was a “reporter hotel” outside Baghdad during the various wars in Iraq, which is oft cited as being a place that is falling apart and may suffer from rubble from bombings and blackouts, but offered an array of black market booze for the reporters. I really admire war and conflict correspondents, so I hope I don’t make light of the harrowing situations they put themselves through in order to do their jobs well. Also, this was oddly inspired by a convo with @theunpaidcritic about reporter!AUs for JB.

Slightly NSFW.

***

“Fuck, Hyle, how many times do I have to tell you? Your job is to send our editor the photos we choose together. Not your favorites.” 

Jaime looks across the crowded hotel ballroom, where Brienne’s usually calm voice is raised above the normal level of ruckus of the room. At any given time, the Orange Coast Hotel, is a temporary home to numerous reporters and photographers from across the known world who cover the war raging in the Disputed Lands and beyond. 

The nearby conflict has not left the hotel unharmed, and at any given time, there are bombings and blackouts. Correspondents hunker down in the ballroom, swearing over stories or taking calls on their various phones, both the slim mobiles if there’s service available, and the chunky satellite phones when in an emergency, which for them means a deadline. 

Brienne sorts out whatever issue she’s having with her colleague after more raised voices and wild hand gestures, before she huffs across the room and sits down next to him. “I don’t know why you put up with him,” he says calmly. 

“He has a lot of conflict experience,” she sighs, her voice a near grumble. 

“But you don’t get along. In this line of work, you need someone who has your back, and not just with your editor.” 

Brienne narrows her eyes at him and takes a swig from Jaime’s half finished glass of whiskey. “It’s only a six week assignment. I’ll make do.” 

The first time he met Brienne, he called her too innocent to be a war correspondent. She’d been green, he hadn’t been wrong about that, but she found her footing quickly. Brienne scarcely backed down--not from her editors or a story--and over the years, their admiration for each other had only grown. Reporting on conflict and trauma made you bond quickly, and sometimes in unhealthy ways, with your colleagues. “You could come work with me,” he offers easily. 

“I already want to kill Hyle,” she grouses, running a hand through her hair. “You think that wouldn’t apply to you?” 

Jaime chuckles. “Probably doubly so.” 

She allows a small smile at that. “Where’s Dacey?” 

“Off on a world tour,” he shrugs, but catches Brienne’s worried gaze. “She’s having a tough time, after what happened in Qohor. So she’s taking a break. A long one.” 

“So you’re out here by yourself?” He sent in his photos an hour ago, but prefers to stay in the midst of the fray rather than return to the quiet of his room. He nods. “That isn’t safe, Jaime.” Her hand falls to his knee and he tries not to think of all the times they’d turned to each other for comfort. This godsforsaken place. 

“It’s alright,” he replies, a little too cavalierly. Brienne’s blue eyes slice through him, practiced and observant. 

*

It’s practically a rite of passage at the Orange Coast Hotel: reporters and photographers drinking heavily and then winding up in each other’s rooms. Some of those nights have destroyed long distance relationships, a few marriages, but never, as far as she knows, anyone’s career. War reporters are far too proficient at being damaged. They might fuck a colleague, but their moral obligation is to tell the story, to let people know of the world’s horrors and injustices, to challenge them not to look away. 

So when Jaime shows up at Brienne’s room after midnight, she’s hardly surprised. He steps into her arms without so much as a hello and then her hands are undoing his belt, and fuck, she’s forgotten how fun it is. It feels wrong to say she missed this, but it rises up on her tongue all the same, Jaime kissing her in reply. He fucks her, Brienne bent over, her hands against the wall. When she drags him to bed, they slow things down, the closest to loving she’s ever had. 

Afterwards, he falls asleep, his soft snores keeping her company as she lies awake, wondering what it would be like to work together. Jaime is the best in his field, and has been since before she graduated. Brienne never told him that when she was still in university, he came to give a lecture on war photography. All the other girls were swooning over his brooding nature, his devil may care smile, but she thought he was full of himself, and he proved her right the first time they met in a conflict zone. Never meet your idols, she remembers thinking, and now, she sleeps beside him, trying to puzzle together when she may have fallen in love with him. 

In the morning, she’s surprised to find him there with coffee, orange juice, and toast brought up from the bar downstairs. His camera bag is by the door. “You don’t even carry a suitcase now?” she teases, starting to reach over him for a piece of toast, but he snags her wrist and to her surprise, pulls her down onto his lap, kissing her. “Jaime, is everything okay?” They’ve never done this. The morning after. At most, they would give each other a nod or wave in the hotel lobby, one or both of them with bags under their eyes. 

“I have to go to the Painted Mountains for a couple weeks,” he tells her, voice gravelly and still thick from sleep. “But when I get back we should talk about this.” 

Brienne blinks, thinking she’s dreaming it. “About what?” 

“You and I,” he chuckles, his green eyes twinkling. 

“Working together?” she asks, confused. 

“Brienne.” He says, exasperated, but he’s laughing, and then leaning in for another kiss, longer this time. Oh. Her hand tentatively traces his cheek, skin weathered from the time spent outdoors in the desert sun, her fingertips burning over his scruff. 

When they pull apart, Brienne nearly laughs, she’s scarcely felt this happy. “Why now?” They’ve been doing this for years. 

“Why not now?” he replies, not giving much away, but understanding slowly dawns on his face. She wants a real answer. “Because I miss you when you’re gone.” 

A warmth pulses through her, realizing the kernel of truth in what she said last night. Brienne doesn’t just miss the sex, their connection. She misses him, she misses them, when they’re apart, each off on assignment. “I miss you, too.” He wraps his arms around her then, Brienne resting her chin on the top of his head. “You’re coming back here in two weeks?” Jaime nods. 

*

She and Hyle return to the hotel after a long day. Covered in dust and mud and possibly blood, all she wants is to take a shower, but Brienne stops in the middle of the lobby when she sees Catelyn Tully at the hotel front desk, looking frazzled. Her heart rate picks up. Why would Jaime’s editor be here if he’s not due back for another week? It’s been a long time since they’ve seen each other, but Brienne steps over to where the older woman is standing. “Catelyn, what are you doing here?” 

“Oh, Brienne, thank gods. I’m trying to find someone to take me to Slaver’s Bay. Jaime is in the hospital there.” Everything happens in slow motion after that. Catelyn must lead her over to one of the lobby’s couches, because that’s where she finally returns to herself, a stiff drink in her hand. “You didn’t hear?” She shakes her head. “There was an ambush in Khyzai Pass. He was with the company under attack.” 

“Khyzai Pass?” It was incredibly dangerous, much more so than the Painted Forest. 

“I didn’t know either,” the older woman says, her tone somber. “I wouldn’t have let him go.” 

Jaime’s sudden need for clarification about their relationship takes on a new meaning and Brienne curses herself for being so stupid. “I should have realized.” The whole area is in such tumult that for years, Slaver’s Bay has been cut off from most means of transportation. The only way they might be able to reach Jaime is by boat, but traversing the straits of Valyria would take days. “Did you talk to the hospital?” 

Catelyn nods, her face pale. “They said he was stable, but he’d lost a lot of blood. He...his hand got hurt. There may be nerve damage.” 

She nods, her throat thick with emotion, tears welling up in her eyes. If he couldn’t take photos, Jaime wouldn’t want to live. An urgency rises up in her chest. “We have to get to him.” 

A shadow falls across the two of them, and Brienne looks up to find Sandor Clegane looming. “I can take you there.” 

They spend the next two days in an armored Jeep, barely stopping, but Clegane is true to his word, they breeze through checkpoints, and Brienne can barely thank him before she’s racing through the hospital corridors, a name echoing in each heartbeat. Jaime Jaime Jaime. 

[plumeriaheart]

How to persuade your dummy [Mammon/Reader]

I would give Mammon my soul within seconds. Also that one devilgram story for his ssr card, the Mammon Way, made me wish it ended differently so here’s me fulfilling my own wish.

FANDOM: Obey Me!

RATING: more fluff, with a little bit of spice

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

.

.

„Ugh, why do I have to bother with some stupid homework assignment?! This is beneath the Great Mammon!”

His sudden outburst doesn’t phase you nor Satan – it’s his fourth one already. Although Satan already explained to him that he had to finish his course work – lest he wants to repeat the year – it simply doesn’t seem to get through his head. And you can tell that he’s growing more exasperated by the second. If you look closely, you can see his smile twitch as he watches Mammon flipping through the pages of his exercise books.

“Satan, would you like me to handle this?” Not to mention that you’re just as much at a loss as he is; still, you would rather avoid him losing his cool. If everything else fails, you could simply command Mammon to do his work, right?

“Are you certain that you’ll be able to?” He seems hesitant, considering whether this is something he can leave in your hands. The concern on his face makes you wonder – does he think that little of you? After all, you were able to make most of the demon brothers enter a pact with you. You would have thought that you had proven yourself more than capable at this point.

“Of course I am. I have a pact with him, remember?” This seems to reassure him, and only a few seconds pass before he nods with a confident smile.

“Then I will leave this job to you. Do let me know about your success later tonight when you return to the House of Lamentation.” With those words, he bids you farewell. As soon as he’s out of eyesight, though, you hear Mammon getting up from his chair.

“Finally! Thought he wasn’t gonna leave at all!” You watch him as he stretches his arms above his head, a carefree grin on his face. Unless you act fast, you know he’s going to take the chance to disappear as quickly as he can.

“You know, I thought you looked pretty cute working on that assignment...” Voice as nonchalant as possible, you sit down across from him and notice his cheeks burning up right away. He turns his face away from you quickly as if to try and hide the fact that you made him blush.

“Ya’ think…? I-I mean, ‘course I did! I, the Great Mammon, always look pretty cute! And, uhm, attractive, too!” He’s right, technically, you do think he always looks rather attractive, but maybe you could use this to make him continue his work?

“There’s something really attractive about somebody that’s so focused on their work in front of them...” You mumble, letting your eyes drop down to his opened books. “I really like seeing you that focused, Mammon.”

You’ve never seen him sit down as fast as he did right now, frantically searching for the pencil he used to pretend to work while Satan was present.

“L-like this?” His voice is low and he doesn’t even look up at you, eyes glued to the page in front of him. Whether he’s actually trying to read or if he’s just pretending to, you can’t tell. Though you can see that he’s still blushing.

“Yeah, just like that – it’s really difficult to hold back the urge to kiss you right now.” His grip around the pencil tightens and the lead breaks from the pressure. With a gulp, he dares to look up at you for a mere second only to see you smiling at him. As if you didn’t just make his heart stop!

“Pfft, that’s… That’s just like a human, being too weak to… to ignore my devilish charms,” he mumbles, eyes flitting from your lips to the curve of your neck. Suddenly, he’s hyper-aware of how enticing you look to him; the thought of how soft your lips must feel and how delicate your skin looks. Mammon gulps, finding it even more difficult to focus on the work in front of him thanks to you.

You wonder if your plan backfired, if you only made it more difficult for him to finish his work, but then… Another idea sparks inside your head. Anything is worth a shot to make him work.

“I think my self-control is strong enough to hold myself back right now. But if you were to finish that first book… I don’t know if I’d be able to hold myself back then.” It’s unclear whether Mammon can tell that you’re sweet-talking him into doing his work or not, but the important thing is that it’s working. He’s pulled the book closer to himself, underlining passages within the text and scribbling down stuff in his notebook. And unlike before, they’re not just wiggly lines.

You grin to yourself, watching him work away – too focused to even look up for a single second. Now that you have to wait for him to finish the first book, you take out your D.D.D. and start a new group chat with the other brothers. You take a quick snapshot of Mammon and send it to them with the caption ‘I found a way to make him work!’

Immediate responses flood the group chat, all five brothers wondering just how you managed to convince him. You’re not willing to tell them you practically seduced him into doing it, but… Asmodeus can probably figure it out himself.

‘Did you promise to send him exclusive voice lines from Ruri-chan if he finishes his work? ROFLMAO If yes, you have to send them to me. Plz do it. Mammon’s such a normie he wouldn’t know how to appreciate Ruri-chan’s precious voice.’

‘Did you offer to pay him? With all due respect, you didn’t seem like the type of person to possess enough wealth to do so.’

‘I bet she promised to make dinner for him. Maybe even his favourite meal? I bet he couldn’t say no to that.’

You hold back a giggle to those texts, but then you feel as if somebody’s staring at you. Looking up from your D.D.D., you see Mammon with a confident smile – he’s at the end of the first book, and his eyes are watching you expectantly.

That was way faster than you imagined!

“You’re done already? I’m impressed, Mammon,” you say. His only response is a grin, a quick nod and another slight blush on his cheeks. He’s really waiting for that kiss you mentioned, isn’t he?

As you get up from your seat and move to sit next to him, he suddenly averts his gaze.

“This was nothing for somebody as clever as me!” His voice is not as cocky as his words, and he gulps audibly as you sit down next to him. Your arms touch, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him. You’re more than willing to hold up your end of the bargain, but he refuses to turn his head to look at you. As if you weren’t able to see how red his face was from this angle!

That’s not enough to stop you, though. You lean closer to him, placing your lips just below his ear. He jumps in his seat, clearly not having expected you to be so bold.

“I’m really proud of you, Mammon. You’ve done really well, you know? And the next two books are going to be a cakewalk for you,” you whisper. He shivers at the feeling of your hot breath caressing his skin. It’s entertaining to see how much such a simple action can affect him; it brings you more joy than you’d like to admit. Another soft kiss is placed, this time, a bit closer to his cheek.

“You’re… You’re right! This is nothing for me!” His hands are shaking ever so slightly as he reaches for the next book, aware of just how close you are to him. His skin still tingles where your soft lips touched. You decide to rest your head on his shoulder, watching him as he continues to work. The proximity makes his heart beat faster, nervous about how close you are, but you see him begin to work once more. Since he’s doing his best at focusing on the words in front of him, Mammon doesn’t notice the pink tinge on your cheeks.

It takes him slightly longer than before, which can be attributed to how close you were, but eventually, he finishes the second book as well. He doesn’t say anything, but… He does glance at you. He’s not going to say it, but he wants to hear you say how well he did.

You lift your head from his shoulder, humming a little.

“Can you look at me?” You ask, smiling brightly as he does. Raising your hand, you gently stroke his cheek with your fingertips; eyes never wavering from his. “I’m really glad to see you give it your all.”

His eyes widen as if in shock, but then he nods. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again – he can’t find any words to say to you right now. He’s way too overwhelmed: he’s nervous because you’re so close, anticipating the kiss you talked about before, and also exhausted from doing actual work.

You gently make him tilt his head so that your foreheads touch, and now you feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. At this rate, he’s likely to break a world record in blushing, you think to yourself.

“Do you think you need a little break before you continue?” It’s the least he deserves. “I can get us something to eat, and then you’ll finish the last book, okay?” He nods, but his face drops a little as you get up to order. If he had a say in it, he wouldn’t let you go at all. He finds an irritating amount of satisfaction in having you this close to him, being gentler than anybody had ever been with him before. He’s not the Avatar of Greed for nothing.

When you return, his face lights up with a smile. He may have begun to miss you already, but he also realised that all the thinking had made him hungry.

“I got you some coffee and a backstabbing sandwich – your favourite, right?”

He might just tear up at how kind you are to him.

Roughly two hours later, all three of the books are done. The final one took a toll on Mammon, being way harder than the previous ones, but somehow he pulled through. Maybe it was the way you smiled at him when he let out a frustrated sigh, or maybe it was the way you rested your hand on his when he needed to take a little breather.

You’re way too patient, Mammon thinks to himself, enduring his antics and lack of intelligence. He’s so used to the way his brothers talk down to him that he can’t believe anybody would take the time out of their day to stay with him, to encourage him – and yet that’s exactly what you did. No wonder you manage to make his heart flutter with joy.

“Should we go home?” You ask him as you get up to stretch your legs.

“Yeah… I’m beat. But...” He looks away from you, embarrassed to be asking for this. You did promise him a kiss, and you had yet to kiss him on the lips! How can he ask for it, without actually asking for it? He’s way too stubborn to openly admit to wanting you to kiss him, even if he knows that you can tell. You’ve got a certain way to read him, and Mammon’s not sure if he likes it or not.

“I haven’t forgotten about your reward.” Those words make him choke on his spit, cheeks crimson once more. A reward, huh? It has a nice ring to it, he has to admit. And to hell with it, he does deserve one, doesn’t he?

Gathering the books and his notes, both of you get ready to leave. When you take his hand and entwine your fingers with his, you catch him by surprise. You half expect him to pull his hand away, but he merely mutters unintelligibly as you two leave.

You tell Mammon to rest in his room as you bring the books to Satan. He accepts them, pleasantly surprised to see the results. There’s a fair share of mistakes, but not enough for the committee to fail Mammon. With a spring in your step, you return to Mammon’s room to share the good news with him.

A knock on his door to signal you’re back, Mammon jumps up from his bed and opens the door. You barely get a word out before he pulls you in, slams the door shut and wraps his arms around your waist. With a smile, you gently pat his head and hear him grumble into the crook of your neck.

“You’ve done so well today, Mammon,” you tell him. He raises his head to look up at you, and you wonder if you’re seeing things – do his eyes seem a little watery? The way he looks at you is unlike anything you’ve seen before, a mixture of gratefulness and pleas. It tugs at your heart to see him like this.

When you take his face into your hands, you can feel the heat rising to his cheeks once more. But this time, you’re not going to pull away like the times before. You get up on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his lips, and when they touch, it’s as if he’s revitalised.

He kisses you back with fervour, with such longing that you wonder how long he’s been holding back. His lips crash into yours as if he was starving for you, eager to taste more and more of you. Now he’s not the only one that’s blushing, you’re taken by surprise at how forceful his kiss is. He rests his hands on your hips, trying to pull you closer and closer until you can feel his heartbeat against your chest.

You barely manage to break away to gasp for air before his lips crash into yours once more, hungry, begging to have a taste of you. One of his hands travels up your back, resting between your shoulder blades. The heat coming from his touch is enough to consume you, to set your skin aflame.

When you allow his tongue to slip past your lips, a groan reverberates from him; strong enough to send a shiver up your spine. You’ve given him a taste of yourself now, and it fuels him. The more he touches of you, the longer you kiss, the greedier he becomes – you’re unlike anything else he’s ever had, and suddenly he finds himself breathless, as well.

“P-Please,” he finds himself whimpering, and he’s not sure what he’s asking for himself. There’s an ache in his chest, and his heart is pounding painfully.

“Mammon?” You whisper, unsure what to do next – you can still feel his hot breath on your lips, almost touching. He refuses to open his eyes, not looking at you – but you ask yourself if you can see a tear glistening in the corner of his eye.

You run your fingers through his hair, and then you smile.

“Hey, can you look at me, Mammon?” For a couple of seconds, he refuses to do so, but you don’t mind. You give him as much time as he needs before he finally opens his eyes, looking at you with such a pleading expression that almost makes you wonder if he’s in pain. He remains quiet, gaze burned into yours.

“I like the way you kiss me. Can you do it again?”

You don’t need to ask twice.

A/N: I may get over myself and write a sorta sequel to this that’s more mature than this, given that I... gave it such an open ending tbh. we’ll see!! thanks for reading <3

[ohstardust]

Stubborn Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary: “You’re my roommate who’s super cute and it’s the middle of the night and you’re cramming for your exams in your flannel pajamas and disheveled hair and it’s becoming increasingly hard for me not to kiss you” AU. Inspired by this post. Words: 1.1k A/N: I’ve barely been able to write in months but suddenly I was stuck with the inspiration to write this after leaving my Beck fic unfinished again for the evening. Apologies for any mistakes, I’m barely awake.

Please let me know what you think, and as always, reblogs are acts of kindess. Title: Stubborn Love by The Lumineers

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Bucky hadn’t expected the kitchen light to be glowing at 1am as he trudged through the hallway to grab a glass of water. He’d been finishing up his essay notes ahead of taking the plunge and making a start on it in the morning, and all he wanted was a drink, a snack and an episode of The Office to unwind with. He knew full well he’d be wide awake if he contemplated trying to sleep when he was still so wired on swirling thoughts, and ideas, for what he wanted to say and highlight in his assignment.

He stretched as he let out a small yawn and scratched his tummy. That was odd, the light was still on, books and paper and an assortment of pens and highlighters were scattered across the breakfast island but there was no one in sight. With a sigh and the shake of his head, he pulled a glass out of the cupboard and ran the cold water until is was cool enough to drink.

Soft footsteps padded through the apartment and into the kitchen, a small squeak escaped his roommate and he glanced up, eyes apologetic.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, just wanted this,” he raised his glass and smiled sheepishly.

“Don’t worry, sorry Buck, I didn’t realise you were still up, I guess I got a bit carried away in here.” She took her seat back at her makeshift desk and tried to make some sense of the documents laid out before her. Bucky wasn’t sure how long she’d been there, he remembered seeing her there sometime after dinner but that had been hours ago, he didn’t know how she was still functioning, especially because she hadn’t eaten with him and their other two flatmates.

“Have you um- have you eaten anything? Do you want a drink?” He offered, feeling concerned for his friend, the dark circles under her eyes looking more prominent than ever, and her soft and usually fresh looking face, looked exhausted.

“I think I ate - actually no, I completely forgot to eat. I’ve been so busy trying to cram for my final exam on Tuesday. I lost track of all time.”

“Will loaded nachos do the trick for you? And a juice? I know soda’ll upset your tummy this late at night, and I flat out refuse to give you coffee at this hour,” her eyes widened and she pouted at the idea of her coffee being withheld, “sweetheart it’s for your own good, you need to sleep sometime tonight.”

She sighed, he was right, he was always right, he knew just what she needed and he knew her tells like the back of his hand, maybe that’s what living together and being friends for four years taught you, “Sure, nachos and juice sound amazing, thanks Bucky.”

His chest tightened and his stomach fluttered at the sleepy smile she gave him, her head propped up on her palm and her hair all disheveled, no doubt from her stress and concentration, fingers raking through it as he’d seen so often before.

Bucky couldn’t refrain from sneaking glances at her every so often as he busied himself with making food, her tongue peeking out as she highlighted passage after passage, different coloured sticky notes pinpointing different aspects and topics to make the revision easier for her. Every other minute she’d yawn wide and slink further into her oversized hooded sweatshirt.

“C’mon, at least eat some of this before you fall asleep on the counter top.” Bucky placed a plate in front of her, piled high with tortilla chips and cheese and toppings and returned a moment later with a tall glass of orange juice. He grabbed a stool from beside her and set it directly opposite her on the other side of the counter.

He watched as she plucked a few chips from the plate, the cheese stringy and splitting off, but quickly diverted his gaze when she put the food in her mouth. He was always toeing on the edge of fear when it came to her, always worried that he was watching too much, too eager, too interested. She grinned and groaned a little, “Bucky Barnes, you’re my hero.”

Bucky could have died right there and then but he shook it off, content with her being content, and snatched a few chips for himself before he said something stupid or overstepped.

She pulled one knee up and rested her foot on the stool, constantly trying to find a new position to be comfortable in for a few minutes as she read another paragraph or two. Her bobbled and faded flannel pyjama pants were a comfort to her and she absentmindedly ran her fingers over the material.

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous for this exam, I know all of this, I’ve worked hard, I’ve studied hard for four years, I should be calm about this.”

“It’s your final, it makes sense to be nervous, it’d be weird if you weren’t. But you’ll do amazing, you know you’ll ace it, you’re you.”

“I guess. You’ve always had so much faith in me. Don’t know what I did to deserve it.”

“Like I said, you’re you.”

She lifted her head and once again rested her head on her hand to look over at him, eyes scanning his messy, fluffy hair, soft yet piercing eyes, his favourite shirt that had so many holes in it it couldn’t even be classed as vintage anymore. Her breath caught as she caught his unwavering gaze, the intensity and kindness, like a magnetic pull that drew her to him and vice versa. The late night-early morning, sleep deprived haze heightened every look, sound, intake of breath, brush of fingers, like nothing around them existed, just the two of them inhabiting this bubble.

“And you, you’re you too Bucky, my favourite you.”

He huffed out a laugh and rubbed his palm over his face to shake him from the moment, “I think you need some sleep.”

“You too,” she let out a massive yawn, the motion taking over he whole face and she chuckled softly, “think we can cuddle tonight?”

“Am I supposed to pretend it didn’t happen tomorrow?”

“No, I want it to happen again tomorrow. And the day after that.”

“Can’t argue with that, c’mon, let’s get you to bed darlin’.” He gathered up all of her mess into a neat pile and pushed it to the side out of the way, depositing their left over plate into the sink and wrapped his arm around her exhausted body, leading it towards his room and flipping the light off as they went.

Under the cosy blankets and wrapped around each other - Bucky feeling light and giddy yet unsure if this meant what he thought, or hoped, it meant - in a tiny exhausted voice, he barely heard her say, ”wanna cuddle with you forever Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky let out a long exhale and grinned into her hair, “Me too, sweetheart, me too.”

[hiscyarika]

Kir’manir: Chapter Three

Ruusaanyc

     adj. reliable, trustworthy

Word Count: 10.5k

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian receives a transmission from Greef Karga requesting that he return to Nevarro to dispose of the client. 

Warning(s): Violence, Injury

A/N: Happy Star Wars Day! Here’s part three (settle in, it’s a long one)! I decided to go ahead and write Cara out, instead having Reader take her place (please don’t hate me). Also please don’t get used to these horribly long chapters. Chapter Four will be about the same length, but then after I run out of canon content to follow, the chapters will be much shorter. Thank you all for reading and for your kind words! I appreciate you all more than you know! 

Masterlist

Tag Lists

Chapter One: Beroya, Chapter Two: Narudar

As the Mandalorian jumps into hyperspace, an exasperated sigh escapes his lips. He looks down at the controls, unscrewing the silver top of the gearshift, then turns to the child, who seems completely unaffected by what had just happened with Mayfeld and the other mercenaries. “I told you that was a bad idea,” he says, giving the baby the little metal ball, earning him a soft coo in response.

He leans back in his seat then, closing his eyes for a few minutes as the Crest rides through hyperspace. Once again he’s reminded that you would have been rather useful to have around. It had taken him one look at the team he’d been assigned to, and instantly he’d known that things weren’t going to work out as cleanly and smoothly as he had been told. And he’d been right. He’d gotten out alright, and so had the kid, but if you’d been around, well, that would have been at least one person he knew he could trust unconditionally.

It’s laughable, really, and he finds himself almost chuckling to himself. He’s sure that you haven’t had a second thought about him since he left you on Tatooine. By now, you’ve probably got your own ship, free to roam the galaxy again. He’ll never see you again. He’s certain about that.

By the time the ship exits hyperspace, the kid is asleep. Mando sits up again, going through the catalog to find another planet to land on for a while. As he moves, he bumps into something, because suddenly the holovid comes to life. It’s a transmission from Greef Karga.

“My friend, if you are receiving this transmission that means you are alive. You might be surprised to hear this, but I am alive too. I guess we can call it even. A lot has happened since we last saw each other. The man who hired you is still here, and his ranks of ex-Imperial guards have grown. They have imposed despotic rule over my city, which has impeded the livelihood of the Guild. We consider him an enemy, but we cannot get close enough to take him out. If you would consider one last commission, I will very much make it worth your while. You have been successful so far in staving off their hunters, but they will not stop until they have their prize. So here is my proposition. Return to Nevarro. Bring the child as bait. I will arrange an exchange, and provide loyal Guild members as protection. Once we get near the client, you kill him, and we both get what we want. If you succeed, you keep the child and I will have your name cleared with the Guild, for a man of honor should not be forced to live in exile. I await your arrival with optimism.”

He flips the switch to turn off the transmission. It’s a risk. Returning to Nevarro with such a high density of Imperials, along with the angry Guild hunters he had betrayed: there are far too many ways that something could go wrong. None of it would be worth anything if he or the kid ended up dead. He turns, looking at where the child sleeps peacefully in his makeshift bed.

If everything goes right, he’d never have to worry about someone coming to hurt the baby again. He could go back to working for the Guild while trying to figure out where the kid belonged. It would be so much easier than the constant running that they’re doing now.

He’s made up his mind, and quickly calculates the next hyperspace jump. They’re going back to Nevarro.

But first, a visit to Tatooine.

---

You groan as the heat of the binary suns blasts down on your back as you work, fixing an old freighter after an engine had been damaged. Rather than booking passage with someone passing through the system, you had opted to start working for Peli instead, helping her with smaller repairs and upkeep. It didn’t pay much but it was enough for you to support yourself while slowly building up the funds that you had. After Mando had left, it seemed much safer to leave on your own, where you were sure that you couldn’t be turned into the Guild for the hunters that you had killed on Sorgan. It’s less than ideal. You haven’t grown any fonder of Tatooine since the day you arrived, but you know things could be worse.

After hammering the last part into place, you close the port, wiping the grime from your hands with the cloth you keep at your side. You then return to Peli’s storage area, putting all of the tools back in their places. As far as you know, there aren’t any other ships in the starport that currently need attention, meaning that you’ll probably spend the rest of the day tuning up the pit droids.

“We’ve got one coming into bay three-five,” Peli says through the comlink you keep in your ear during the day. You sigh and shake your head. At least working with the droids keeps you out of the heat.

“What’s the damage?,” you ask her, wondering just how complicated the repairs are going to be. You’re not a professional like Peli by any means, but in the last couple of weeks you’ve at least managed to gain more knowledge than you started with. Hopefully it saves you time and credits in the long run.

Peli’s answer is drowned out by the deafening sound of the ship landing. You stand just outside of the hangar, not able to see what kind of ship it is or what condition it's in. When you walk through the doorway though, you gasp slightly at what you see. It’s the Razor Crest.

The Mandalorian is back.

At first glance, there seems to be nothing wrong with the ship. You feel your heart begin to beat a little faster in your chest, not sure why he would have come back. Your first thought is that something happened to the little one. It’s a thought that you can barely stomach, and you shake your head to yourself, standing and waiting for the loading ramp to come down. When it does, you can hear the heavy footsteps of the Mandalorian, and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding when you see the little creature in his arms.

You take a few steps forward, meeting them in the middle of the space that separates you, and you smile when you see the child’s eyes light up and his little arms reach for you as he laughs. He clambers out of the Mandalorian’s arms and into yours as soon as you’re close enough.

“Well hi there, little guy,” you say, holding him in one arm. The other you extend at an angle to the Mandalorian. He does the same, each of you clasping the other’s hand as a form of greeting.

“What are you two doing back here? Did you miss me that badly, Mando?,” you tease with a grin, releasing his hand and wrapping your arm around the child, who coos and chitters up at you.

“I have a job for you.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and your head tilts slightly to the side. “A job? What kind of job?,” you ask, your expression losing the playfulness it held just seconds ago. This makes no sense to you. Why would he come back for you? Just because you’d done one job together didn’t make you lifelong partners now. That’s the one thing that you understand most about the Mandalorian. You share the preference of working in solitude. Whatever this is has to be dire.

“I received a transmission from Greef Karga,” he begins to explain, though it by no means clarifies his reasoning for coming to you. By now, you’re likely just as wanted by the Guild as he is. The trandoshan that escaped Sorgan would have made sure of that.

He must see the apprehension in your eyes. “I know that sounds stupid, but hear me out,” he says. “The client, the one that paid me to bring the child in, he’s still on Nevarro. He’s got the place crawling with Imps, and it’s making it hard for the Guild to operate. Karga wants me to take him out and bring the child as bait.”

“Absolutely not,” you interject quickly, shaking your head and unconsciously holding the little one closer to you. You know what they want with him. You won’t let anyone harm the baby if you can help it. You’re not stupid enough to trust Greef Karga.

The Mandalorian shakes his head. “That’s why I’m here. I know you won’t let anything happen to him. And he’ll be safe once the client is dead,” he says. “I’ll bring you to Nevarro and make sure you have your own ship when this is over. And both our names will be cleared with the Guild. You can go on like none of this ever happened,” he tells you.

You take a deep breath, your brain running through all of the things that could go wrong, but you know that the Mandalorian is right. This could be the kid’s ticket to freedom and safety. You look down at the little one, watching as his ears perk up. All it takes is one look in his big brown eyes. You know what you have to do. And it doesn’t have anything to do with your own freedom. You look back at the Mandalorian, your jaw set in determination.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

---

Once you’ve left the atmosphere of Tatooine, you lean back in your seat, sighing softly in relief. Finally you can breathe without inhaling dust and sand and you’re not soaked in your own sweat.

“You really hated that place, didn’t you?,” Mando asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Is it that obvious?.” You laugh, “What made you think I’d still be there?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t expect you to be. I figured you’d be long gone the first chance you got. It was just a chance I was willing to take,” he replies.

A thought strikes you then. “Greef Karga has no idea that I’m coming, does he?”

“No.”

“Well that could be an issue, don’t you think?,” you question. Before, he’d made it sound like your joining had already been discussed. Now it’s clear that this might not go as smoothly as you’d originally thought.

“It won’t be. And if it is, that’s his problem,” Mando tells you, standing from his seat and heading down into the hull. You follow after him, glancing at the child for a moment to check on him before you go down the ladder. The Mandalorian seems confident, but you’re not so sure.

You lean against the wall, watching as he opens the weapons vault. “You realize that this could be one grand scheme to take both of you down, right? And if it is I’m sure he won’t hesitate to put me in cuffs too.” The prospect of freeing the child is still worth the risk, but you want to be sure to minimize the chance of being taken by surprise. Greef Karga isn’t known for his integrity.

He sighs in exasperation. “Relax. I don’t trust him any more than you do. We’ll be gone the minute something goes wrong.”

You know he can’t guarantee that, as much as you wish he could. “I’m just saying that we need to operate like this is a trap,” you tell him.

“Believe me, I know. I haven’t gone through this much trouble to keep the kid safe just to ruin it all now,” he replies, turning to face you. You nod in understanding, letting out a soft breath.

Before you can say anything else, you heard a loud knocking coming from the ship. It begins to veer sharply from side to side, and the force sends you colliding with the Mandalorian, your hands pressed to his cuirass. But you don’t have time to think about the severe lack of space between you or the way that his arm comes around your waist to steady you. You grab onto the ladder, freeing him so that he can make it up to the cockpit, and then follow after him, hanging on to the back of your seat to stay upright.

You curse under your breath when you see the child playing around with the controls, clearly amused with his own work. He laughs even as the Mandalorian shoves him into your arms. You take your seat, keeping the child secure in your arms until Mando finally rights the ship again.

“Troublemaker,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes slightly as you look down at the kid, your breath coming in soft pants. He just giggles and brings his little clawed hands up to touch your face. You shake your head, unable to help the grin that comes to your lips then. “We gotta find someone to watch you,” you say.

“You’ve got that right,” Mando agrees, and as you look you can see that he’s changing the set coordinates.

“Where are we going?,” you ask.

“Arvala-7,” he answers.

Now your interest is piqued. “What? But that’s…that’s where the kid was when you found him. Who is there that you trust?,” you question.

The Mandalorian turns to face you. “There was an ugnaught that guided me to the child, and he helped me repair the ship after it was stripped by Jawas. He won’t let any harm come to the kid,” he explains. You nod, relieved that there is at least one other person in the galaxy that can be trusted. It gives you more hope that the two of you might be able to pull this off, and then everything that’s happened in the last few weeks can become a distant memory.

“To Arvala-7 then,” you say, gently placing the child back in his chair.

---

When he lands the Crest next to Kuiil’s moisture farm, the Mandalorian lets out a soft sigh, standing from the pilot’s seat and picking up the child in his crate. He nods his head for you to go first, and once you’re down the ladder, he reaches down to hand you the container. With the press of a button on his vambrace, the container begins to float at his side, and he walks with you down the ramp and towards the ugnaught. He watches you out of the corner of his eye, having to contain a laugh at the less-than-pleased look on your face as you survey the surroundings. You’ve traded one arid planet for another, though at least you won’t be on Arvala-7 for long.

The ugnaught meets the three of you at the door, and the Mandalorian ducks and follows him into the small hut, the container behind him and you after. He stands up straight again once he’s inside letting the container sit on top of a box against the wall. You settle near the child, and he smiles under the helmet as he watches you reach out to stroke the baby’s ear, earning a soft hum from the creature.

The ugnaught grabs the child’s attention as he walks closer, and the little one reaches an arm out. “It hasn’t grown much,” the ugnaught says.

“I think it might be a Strand-Cast,” the Mandalorian answers, coming to stand next to you.

“I don’t think it was engineered. I’ve worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly,” explains the ugnaught, standing from where he was crouched in front of the child. He then turns to you. “This one, on the other hand, she looks like she was farmed in the Cytocaves of Nora.”

You smile at the comment, and he listens as you introduce yourself to the ugnaught. When you say your name, the Mandalorian makes the discovery that he’s never actually heard it before. He doesn’t have to wonder why. He remembers well the day you’d asked his name and his refusal to give it to you. It was only fair, he knows, that he never demanded yours. But to hear it now, he can’t help but think that it suits you. It’s elegant enough, but also has an edge to it that could strike fear into the heart of any man.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” you explain further. “I was supposed to bring in the child after the tracking fob reactivated, but I couldn’t make myself go through with it. The man who hired us never told us it was a child.” A look of disgust crosses your face.

“I see,” the ugnaught says, nodding. “It’s good to know that morality still exists in the galaxy. The Mandalorian would be wise not to take someone like you for granted.”

He doesn’t fail to catch the pointed look that the ugnaught gives him.

But the warm moment doesn’t last much longer. He feels the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand straight up when he hears a familiar mechanical movement. His blaster is loaded and pointed at the IG unit as it steps into the hut, bearing a few cups of tea. You’re up just as fast as he is, your weapon drawn as well as you step in front of the child.

“Would anyone care for some tea?,” the droid asks.

The ugnaught steps in front of both of you, his hands held up to stop you from shooting at the droids. “Please, lower your blasters. He will not harm you.” But the Mandalorian doesn’t relent and neither do you. He doesn’t even take his eyes off of the droid.

“That thing is programmed to kill the baby,” The Mandalorian grits out. He’s never trusted droids before. He won’t start now.

“Not anymore,” the ugnaught counters. He then listens as the ugnaught tells you both how he recovered the droid and reprogrammed its neural workings. While it might have been comforting to anyone else to hear that the droid had been retaught everything that it knew, the Mandalorian was still not convinced. He couldn’t believe that when he knew that the nature of the droid was to be a bounty hunter.

“Is it still a hunter?,” he asks apprehensively.

“No. But it will protect,” the ugnaught assures him.

He lowers his blaster, and only then do you do so as well. He stares at the droid for a few moments, studying it, and he shrinks back as it offers him a cup of tea. You take it instead, seeming to be much more soothed by the ugnaught’s story than he is.

“I must go tend to the blurrgs,” the ugnaught says. The Mandalorian nods, turning to you as you’re all left in the hut alone with the droid.

“Stay here with the kid. Don’t let the droid touch him,” he says.

“I won’t,” you answer, and though he can hear the questioning in your tone, he doesn’t indulge you with an answer. Instead, he ducks out of the hut, finding the ugnaught standing outside of the pen he keeps the creatures in.

“I’ve run into some problems,” the Mandalorian starts softly. The ugnaught has done so much for him already. He deserves to rest in peace, not be dragged back into this chaos, but he knows that he has no other choice than to ask.

The ugnaught does not look up from where he strokes the snout of one of the blurrgs. “I figured as much. Why else would you return?,” he says.

“I wanna hire your services.”

His answer is simple, but somehow not quite final. “I’m retired from service.”

“I can pay you handsomely, Ugnaught,” the Mandalorian tries, though he knows already that money is not something that will change the ugnaught’s mind. It didn’t before.

“I have a name. It is Kuiil,” he says.

The Mandalorian nods. That’s two names he’s learned tonight. “I need someone to protect the little one, Kuiil,” he replies.

“I’m not suited for such work. I can reprogram IG-11 for nursing and protocol,” Kuiil offers.

“No. I don’t want that droid anywhere near him,” he refuses, unable to help from raising his voice as he speaks. He still can’t bring himself to trust the droid, even if everyone else around him has given in to the idea that the droid will not revert back to his factory settings.

Kuiil finally looks up at him then, a curious look in his eyes as he studies the Mandalorian. “Why are you so distrustful of droids?,” he inquires. But it’s not a question that he really wants to answer in depth. It goes back much further than what happened with the IG unit.

“It tried to kill him,” he says, giving the simple answer

Kuiil shakes his head. “It was programmed to do so. Droids are not good or bad. They are neutral reflections of those who imprint them,” he says. His words are wise and true. The Mandalorian knows this, but as true as he knows the words to be, he cannot internalize them.

“I’ve seen otherwise,” he counters.

“Do you trust me?,” Kuiil asks, and the Mandalorian can already see where the ugnaught is going with this question, but he humors him anyway.

He gives a slight nod. “From what I can tell, yes,” he replies.

“Then you will trust my work. IG-11 will join me, and we do it not for payment, but to protect the child from Imperial slavery. None will be free until the old ways are gone. Forever,” Kuiil says. These words are final. The Mandalorian knows that he cannot argue with them. As much as he doesn’t like the idea of the droid being around the baby, he knows that he needs Kuiil. Having the ugnaught around is more important than his need to keep the droid away.

“Okay,” he relents softly.

“The blurrgs will join me as well.”

“The blurrgs?,” he asks, puzzled.

“I have spoken.”

The Mandalorian has to hold back a laugh at the words. These arguments always seem to end this way, but he’s thankful for Kuiil for more reasons than he can count now. If his only requests are that the droid and the blurrgs join, then he’ll honor those requests without further argument.

---

You sit on top of a crate in the hull of the Crest, your elbow on the table in front of you and your hand locked with the Mandalorian’s as you both try to best each other with your strength. Your eyes stare deep into the visor of the helmet, your gaze like stone as you try to find any hint that he might be giving up.

“I’ve got you beat, Mandalorian. Give it up,” you say, gaining just a bit.

He grunts with the effort of trying to keep his arm upright. “Care to double the bet?,” he taunts, moving your arm back so that you’re upright again, completely in a stalemate with each other.

“So confi–” You’re cut off when you feel a strange sensation all over your body. You let go of the Mandalorian, trying to figure out what it is that might be making you feel this way, but as soon as you lose physical contact with each other, you’re both flying backwards against the walls of the ship.

The crate you sit on topples over at the impact, leaving you in a heap on the floor. Your hand goes to the back of your head, which throbs from hitting the wall. You look over to see that the Mandalorian is in no better shape. But then your eyes catch sight of the child, whose eyes are narrowed as he looks back and forth between the two of you, his arms reaching out like he’s the one that separated you with such force.

The Mandalorian follows your gaze, and he pulls himself up from the floor when he realizes what’s happening. “No, stop! We’re not hurting each other! It’s just a game!,” he says, picking the child up out of his crate. At this, the strange feeling leaves you immediately, but you can’t bring yourself to move. You have no idea what just happened.

“Wait…he….how?,” you ask, watching as the child is handed over to Kuiil for a moment. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you try to understand how the child was able to do something like that. But you’ve never seen anything like it in your life.

“Look,” the Mandalorian says, walking over to you and helping you up from the ground. He keeps a gentle arm on your shoulder as he looks to the baby. “See? I’m not trying to hurt her. It’s alright,” he reassures the baby. At this, the child’s eyes soften again and his ears perk up a bit. He seems satisfied by what Mando tells him.

He releases you then, the visor looking down into your eyes. “Are you okay?,” he asks softly.

“Yeah. I think so. But what just happened?,” you question.

“The story you told me of the mudhorn now makes more sense,” Kuiil tells Mando. You stand there in silence, not sure what it is that they’re talking about.

“What is it?,” Mando asks.

Kuiil shakes his head. “What it is, I don’t know. But what it does, this...this I’ve heard rumors of. In my days with the Empire,” he says. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and your body tenses slightly at this revelation.

“You worked for the Empire?,” you ask, finding that you trust the ugnaught a little less now. Why the Mandalorian would trust an ex-Imperial to help take down an Imperial officer is beyond you.

“I was sold to the Empire, my dear. An indentured servant, but I am proud to say that I bought my clan’s freedom with the skill of my hands,” he tells you, and you suddenly feel foolish for jumping to such a conclusion about the ugnaught.

You nod slightly. “I understand.”

“Speaking of which, I could really use your craft work right now. Can you pad this container so that the child can sleep better?,” the Mandalorian asks, laying the child back down in his makeshift bed.

The ugnaught walks over, placing a gentle hand on the baby. “I shall fabricate a better one,” he declares.

As Mando shows Kuiil where all the tools are, you make your way back up to the cockpit, taking a seat and trying to process everything that just happened. You can’t really wrap your head around the fact that the child had thrown you and Mando both across the ship just with the power of his mind. This changes your understanding of the situation. Before, you hadn’t understood what was so important about the baby that made the client want him so badly. Now it all makes sense.

You sit up a little straighter as Mando finally joins you. He’s quiet until he takes his seat. “Are you sure you’re alright? You hit your head,” he says, the pilot’s chair swiveling around so that he can face you.

You nod slightly. “Yeah. I’ve had far worse, you know?,” you joke half-heartedly. “I guess the kid just didn’t want to see us fight,” you say with a shrug.

The Mandalorian sighs. “I guess…,” he breathes.

“What does the client want with him?,” you ask, “It has to have something to do with his power.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. He had another man with him when I brought the kid in. They were doing some kind of testing on him, but I don’t know what for. I have no idea how he can do that. I’ve never seen anything like it,” he tells you.

“There has to be more going on,” you reply. “This has to be more than just one officer, Mando. We need to be ready.” Something deep in your gut tells you that you’re in over your head. Whatever you’re about to walk into on Nevarro isn’t going to be as simple as killing a few stormtroopers and taking out the officer. What exactly is going to happen, you don’t know, and that scares you more than you’ll ever admit to the Mandalorian.

“Maybe. We’ll find out more when we land,” he tells you, turning back to the controls.

You turn around when you hear the door open and the mechanical movements of the IG unit, watching as he comes to stand in the doorway of the cockpit. “I have prepared second meal. Would you care to be served here or below?,” the droid asks, it’s hand mechanisms clasped together as it looks between you and Mando.

Mando turns around looking at the droid for just a short moment before he turns away again. “I’m not hungry,” he says.

“I’ll eat later, IG. Thank you,” you reply softly, looking out the viewport of the ship as the droid heads back down into the hull with Kuiil and the child.

“Under no circumstances does that thing leave the ship,” Mando says harshly, his entire body tense and unmoving.

You shake your head. “Why are you so hostile? Kuiil practically rebuilt the thing,” you retort, not sure why he’s so against the droid’s presence when clearly it means no harm to anyone. You know from past experience that pressing him probably isn’t the greatest idea, but you don’t have it in you to care so much at the moment.

“That droid was designed to kill things. I don’t care how much wiring he replaced. It goes against its nature,” he tells you, the chair turning quickly as he looks at you. You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s angry now. It’s all in the way his shoulders are set and the way his head tilts as he speaks to you. It’s in your best interest to let the subject go, so you stand from your chair, shaking your head.

The door of the cockpit as you approach it, but before you go down the ladder, you turn to look at the Mandalorian once more, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the viewport. “You know, not trusting anyone will get you killed faster than letting go of your fear,” you tell him. You join Kuiil, the child, and IG-11 in the hull, leaving the Mandalorian to brood alone.

---

Greef Karga is waiting when the Razor Crest lands on Nevarro, with three hunters of his own standing around him. It gives you the slightest bit of satisfaction that the man clearly fears the Mandalorian. Just as he should.

You ride one of the three blurrgs out of the ship, following behind Mando and Kuiil. The three of you ride at each other’s side as you approach Karga and the other hunters, with the child in his closed pod between you and Mando. It brings you just a bit of peace to have the baby close to you, where you can get to him faster if this all ends as badly as you think it will.

With just a few feet between you and Greef Karga, you pull on the reins to stop the blurrg, your facial expression impassive as you stare down the Guild agent and his minions. One of them is a trandoshan, but to your relief it isn’t Daask. “Sorry for the remote rendezvous, Mando,” Karga says, placing his hands on his hips as he looks back and forth between you and Kuiil. You watch as the look in his eyes changes as he meets yours. He knows who you are. “But things have gotten complicated since you were last here. It appears that introductions are in order. It seems we’ve both provided a security detail. Or have you brought this traitor as a peace offering?”

He points to you as he speaks, and you clench your jaw as you look down at him, not giving him the satisfaction of thinking that you feel threatened by him. You know you could end him before either of the other three hunters had a chance to draw their weapons. He’s no threat to you.

“She’s coming with me, and you’ll have her name cleared with the Guild when this is over,” the Mandalorian says evenly. His tone leaves no room for argument, but somehow Karga has the gall to open his mouth regardless.

“She killed two of my best men. I’ve started distributing pucks at the request of the trandoshan that escaped her. Why not take the bounty that’s been put on her head?,” he presses.

You feel your blood begin to boil at the mention of Daask. You’re surprised that he’s not among the hunters that Greef has with him. “You can be next on my list if you’d like. I’d be happy to arrange it,” you reply, venom dripping with every word. It would bring you great joy to see such a piece of scum dead at your own hands. You inch the blurrg forward, and the hunters draw their weapons.

“Enough. She’s coming. And she’ll be unharmed and pardoned. Do I make myself clear?,” the Mandalorian says. Greef locks his gaze with the helmet, his lips pressed in a thin line, but then he waves off his hunters.

“Fine,” he relents, shaking his head and holding his hands out in mock surrender. “Fine.” You can’t help the smug grin that comes to your lips at his blatant displeasure.

“So, where is the little one?,” he asks. In unison, you and Kuiil both turn to Mando, your expression grim again as you wait for his next move. The idea of even opening the floating pram makes the hair on your arms stand up. You won’t have anything happening to the baby.

Your whole body tenses as Mando moves the pram towards Greef, opening it once it’s in front of him. A hand instinctively goes to your blaster, ready to draw it and fire if the man so much as looks at the little one the wrong way. You practically stop breathing as he picks the child up out of his pod, but out of the corner of your eye you see that Mando is just as ready to attack as you are.

“So, this little bogwig is what the fuss is all about. What a precious little creature,” Greef says. One of the other hunters brandishes his spear when he notices how on edge you and the Mandalorian are, and the motion has you ready to spring into action. “I can see why you didn’t want to harm a hair on its wrinkled little head. Well, I’m glad this matter will be put to rest once and for all,” Greef continues, and he finally puts the baby back in his pod. The Mandalorian relaxes, but you don’t. You won’t be able to until the pod is closed and the child is back at your side.

“Bring him back,” you mutter. Mando presses a few buttons on his vambrace. The pod hisses as it shuts, and then it floats back to its original place between you and Mando. You let out a breath, finally releasing your hold on your blaster.

“The sun drops fast on Nevarro. We can walk for a spell, camp out at the riverbank, then make our way into town at first light,” Karga suggests.

The Mandalorian nods, urging his blurrg forward. You do the same, and with the others you form a triangle around the child’s pod. Karga and his hunters lead the way through the rocky terrain and then the lava flats. The landscape is desolate. Care must be taken with every step. But you watch Greef Karga just as closely as you watch the ground beneath you. No display of his will convince you that his intentions are pure, not until the client is dead. And even then, knowing for certain that there’s a bounty on your head now, you may not trust him even then.

When the sun sets, you stop to make camp. You unload supplies from the bag strapped to your blurrg, making a place for yourself near the fire. Mando settles nearby, keeping the child between you. You decide to stay where you are, watching as Greef and his hunters set up a spit over the flames and roast some unfortunate creature that will soon be your dinner.

You allow yourself to take a deep breath and relax just slightly. You know the child is safe sitting between you and Mando. You lie back against the pack that you’d brought with you. It’s far from comfortable but it’ll do for the night. When dinner is served you sit quietly, keeping an eye on the three other hunters as Kuiil feeds the baby.

“I guess the little bugger’s a carnivore. Never seen anything like it,” Greef muses, not far from your other side. You turn to look at him, hearing the child’s happy babbling. “They were ready to pay a king’s ransom for that thing. Must be for some kind of highfalutin menagerie.” He chuckles then, turning away from the child and looking back at the fire.

“Let’s go over the plan again,” you say, tired of hearing the man’s nonstop commentary. You swear you’ve never heard anyone talk as much as Greef Karga does, though maybe it’s just a product of being around the Mandalorian, who never says half as many words. Perhaps you’ve gotten used to the comfortable silence, begun to prefer it.

Greef nods. “Mando and I  enter the common house. We show the client the bait,” he pauses to point at the child, which makes you turn to the Mandalorian in question. Surely he can’t be any more comfortable than you are with having the child that close to the man that would rather be running tests on the poor thing in a lab.

“We join him at the table, then Mando kills him,” Greef finishes.

“Tell me about his reinforcements,” Mando says, offering no answer for your silent inquiry.

Greef exhales softly. “They’re all ex-Empire. As soon as they lose their paycheck, they’ll all scatter.”

“And what if they don’t?,” you ask flatly, turning your gaze to the flames as they glow and crackle in the dark.

“They will,” he insists.

“That’s not good enough,” Mando presses sternly.

He turns to the Mandalorian again. “If, for argument’s sake, a few of them don’t realize that I’m their best path to alternative employment and they elect to...react impulsively, then these three fine Guild hunters and your accomplice will cut down anyone who bucks,” he says.

“How many will there be?,” Mando asks.

Greef sighs, “No more than four.” He pushes himself off of the ground then, and you watch him closely as he moves towards the fire for another helping of meat. “He travels with, at most, a fire team. Trust me. Nothing can go wrong,” he says. You can barely contain a scoff at the words.

A high pitched screech comes from the dark, and a winged creature swoops down to take the meat from Greef’s hands. You’re on your feet immediately, picking up the heavy repeating blaster that you’d brought along in case you were overwhelmed with the stormtroopers. After stepping in front of the child’s pod, you aim in the direction that the creature had come from, firing at it.

In the shallowest part of your awareness, you hear the child whimper, but it’s followed by the sound of the pram shutting. You allow yourself to take just a step away, firing at the winged beast. It doesn’t take long to realize that even with multiple weapons being fired, the group’s efforts aren’t driving it away.

It swoops down and picks up one of the blurrgs. You turn and shoot at it as Kuiil demands that the creature let go. The Mandalorian joins your effort, but the beast flies away with the blurrg secured in its talons. You let out a breath and lower the heavy blaster for a moment. It’s unfortunate that a blurrg was lost, but hopefully the creature will stay away.

Another screech sounds, and this time the trandoshan hunter is carried away. It’s gone before you can lift the blaster again. But you’re able to fire at the next one that tries to take another blurrg. To your relief, it falls dead, though on top of the blurrg. Your head is spinning with so many attacks on multiple fronts, and try as you might you can’t see far in the pitch darkness. The fire is the only source of light, and even then it doesn’t help much.

You hear the Mandalorian struggling, and you curse under your breath when you see him pinned to the ground by another beast. You shoot at it, careful not to hit Mando. He’s able to get to his feet, and he points his flamethrower at his attacker, fending it off quickly. You don’t stop your own attack, until finally the last of them fly away from the camp. Your chest is heaving with your labored breaths, but you don’t let your guard down yet.

The Mandalorian stands again, rushing over to where the pod still sits shut where it was left. You and Kuiil join him. You keep your back to the pram, your blaster raised and aimed at the sky should more of the creatures attack. But it’s quiet. They seem to have retreated fully.

You finally lower the blaster, placing it near your pack. You turn as Mando opens the pod, and while the child looks a little shaken, he appears unharmed.

It’s then that Greef’s strained cries of pain meet your ears, and you realize that the initial attack left him wounded. As Kuiil rushes over to assess the damage, you rifle through your pack, finding the medkit that you’d brought along with you. You take it over to the injured man, immediately crouching down and beginning your ministrations despite his insistence that he’s fine.

You first inject him with a numbing agent, hoping to at least assuage the pain a little. As you look down at the wound, however, you can see the angry black lines coming away from it. The creature’s bite, you find, is venomous.

“How bad?,” you hear Mando ask from behind you. It startles you slightly. In your rush to treat Greef you hadn’t heard him walk over.

You take out a gauze pad, your only ability being to stop the bleeding. You have no antidote for the venom. At the very least, he’ll lose an arm. “Bad,” you answer, “The venom is spreading fast and I don’t have a way to treat it.” You look down, finding the gauze pad soaked in blood, and as you dig through the medkit you find that there are no more inside.

Greef takes in a shaky breath. “So this… This is how it happens…,” he manages.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you scoff, shaking your head. “I need another medkit! Does anyone have another medkit?!,” you call, looking back at the two remaining hunters. When they shake their heads, you roll your eyes. “It’s a wonder none of you are dead yet.”

“I’m guessing that’s a no,” Greef muses, his words ending in a sharp cough. You take out your scanner, running it along his arm to see how far the venom has spread.

“It’s still spreading,” you announce, tossing the scanner aside, “This isn’t working.” You catch movement in your peripheral vision, and you turn just slightly to see the child standing beside you, his eyes wide and curious as he looks at the wound. “Mando, get the kid out of here,” you command.

“Wait,” Kuiil murmurs, looking down at the baby.

You find that the child has reached out for Greef, laying his tiny hand over the wound. “He’s trying to eat me!,” Greef cries. You pay him no mind. You’re too amazed by what you see.

The little one’s eyes narrow in concentration, and before your very eyes you see the wound begin to close. Within just a few seconds, any trace of the injury is gone. The child pulls his hand back, falling on his behind. His eyes close and you gently pick him up off of the ground, standing and turning to the Mandalorian. Your eyes are wide with disbelief, and you’re vaguely aware of the way that your heart is beating rather quickly in your chest. Looking back down at the little one, who has fallen asleep in your arms, you can’t help but fall speechless in the wake of what you’ve seen.

“Take him back to his pod. He needs to rest,” Mando says, breaking the silence that has fallen over the entire crew. You manage to nod slightly, stepping carefully over to the pram. Gently laying the little one down, you cover him with his blanket and then close the pod with the button on the side. When you stand again, you look out into the darkness that lies beyond the camp. Your mind can’t make sense of what the child can do. All you know is one thing: this has become so much more than you thought it would.

You’re not sure you’re comfortable with that.

---

After a night of less-than-restful sleep, you continue the journey into town at the first sight of sunrise. Karga and his hunters walk just a few paces ahead of you and Mando, with the child between you once again. Kuiil lags much farther behind, riding the last of the blurrgs. You’re acutely aware of the hushed conversations happening between Karga and his hunters. You turn to Mando, suspicious of what might be happening. “Do you think they’re having second thoughts?,” you ask him, quiet enough that he’s the only one that can hear you.

“Could be,” he murmurs, and the fact that his own suspicion is winning over is enough to put you on edge. “I need your eyes,” he tells you.

“You know I haven’t stopped watching,” you reply, gaze hard and set on the three in front of you.

Just a short while later, you reach the town. You stand at the edge of a rock shelf, looking at it from above. You let out a soft breath, ready to get this operation over with. You don’t like one bit of this. Every fiber of your being is telling you that there’s something wrong. You’re just waiting for it all to finally come crashing down.

Greef takes a step forward, surveying the town. “I guess this is it,” he says. A few seconds pass, and then he turns suddenly, firing both of his blasters in yours and Mando’s directions. Your heart flies up into your throat, and your own weapon is drawn as the shots hit their targets. But nothing hits you. Or the Mandalorian.

Shocked, you look behind you to see that Karga has disposed of his own men. You stand up straight again, aiming your blaster squarely at him, even with his hands raised in surrender and his thumbs away from the triggers, you have no intention of trusting any move that he makes.

“There’s something you should know,” he says, walking between you and the Mandalorian to reach the bodies of the dead Guild hunters. You keep your blaster trained on him even as he kicks the weapons away from the bodies. “The plan was to kill you and take the kid. But after what happened last night, I couldn’t go through with it,” he explains.

Neither you or the Mandalorian move or speak. Karga steps back, opening his stance to both of you. It’s an easy shot. You could take it if you wanted to. Then it would be over. You could go back to the Razor Crest and leave this place.

“Go on,” he says, meeting your gaze, “You can gun me down here and now and it wouldn’t violate the Code. But if you do, this child will never be safe.” He gestures to the child, but you won’t have it.

“We’ll take our chances. We’ve kept him safe this long. We don’t need your help,” you say, anger clear in your tone as you look at the Guild agent. You want so badly to pull the trigger, but you won’t. Not until you hear what the Mandalorian has to say about it. In the end, no matter your hatred for Greef Karga, it’s his call. It’s his child.

“The Imperial client is obsessed with obtaining this asset. You tried to run, but where did it get you?,” Greef continues, trying with everything he has to get you and Mando to see the point he’s trying to make.

You cast a glance in Mando’s direction, but you don’t let it linger for long. You won’t let Karga out of your sight for any longer than a second or two. “We could leave right now. Find a better way to do this later. We can’t trust him,” you argue. Your blood is rushing hot through your veins. Your heart is pounding. This needs to end now.

“Perhaps you should let him speak,” Kuiil says, holding up his hand as a way to get you to stand down.

Karga takes a step towards the Mandalorian. You slowly lower your blaster, but you don’t holster it. “Listen, we both need the client to be eliminated. Let me take the child to him, and then you two–”

“No,” Mando finally says, his weapon still pointed at Greef.

Satisfied, you aim your blaster again. “Let’s get this over with and get out of here,” you say.

But the Mandalorian lowers his blaster. “No. He’s right.”

“What are you doing?,” you question in disbelief.

“As long as the Imp lives, he’ll send hunters after the child,” he tells you.

“You can’t honestly be considering this. He’ll have us killed the first chance that he gets and then the child will be lost. We both know how he operates,” you retort.

“Bring me,” he tells Greef.

“Bring you?,” the agent asks incredulously, his hands on his hips.

“Tell him you captured me. Get me close to him and I’ll kill him,” Mando says.

“That’s a good idea. Give me your blaster,” he says. You watch as the Mandalorian does so without hesitation.

You shake your head, finally lowering your weapon. “Mando, don’t do this,” you plead, “It’s a trap.”

He turns to face you. You stare into the horizontal part of the visor, trying to understand how he could believe that this plan would work. “It’s the only way,” he says.

“Well then I’m coming with you,” you state with finality, holstering your blaster.

“No. No. No. That would make them suspicious. You’re a known traitor to the Guild,” Greef says.

You lock eyes with him. “Does it look like I care? I’m not letting you take them in there alone. You can tell them I caught him, as recompense,” you tell him.

“Fine. Then she can bring the child,” Greef says to the Mandalorian.

“No. The kid goes back in the ship,” he replies, gesturing to Kuiil. You nearly sigh in relief. That’s the smartest thing that he’s said throughout the entire conversation.

“But without the child, none of this works!,” Greef argues.

“I have a plan. Kuiil, ride back to the Razor Crest with the child and seal yourself in. When you’re inside, engage ground security protocols. Nothing on this planet will breach those doors,” Mando says. Kuiil nods, walking over to Mando and handing him a small device.

“Here’s a comlink. I will keep the child safe,” he vows. You finally find yourself soothed. Despite your brief acquaintance with the ugnaught, you trust him with the child’s life. He’s the only one you trust outside of the Mandalorian himself. It’s risky going in without the child, but you’d rather take the chance of being discovered by the Imp than put the child in danger.

You watch as the ugnaught takes the child from his pram, wrapping him in a blanket before starting back towards the blurrg. He stops, looking up at you for just a moment. “Be mindful of your anger, lest it blind you,” he warns you.

You nod. “With the child in your hands, that won’t be a problem,” you promise. Satisfied, Kuiil goes back to the blurrg. You look back to the Mandalorian, watching as he’s cuffed with his own binders. You take in a deep breath, tightening the strap that keeps the heavy blaster secured on your back, then reach down and close the child’s empty pod.

“Let’s go,” the Mandalorian says.

---

You only have to reach the front of the town to see that it’s been overrun by stormtroopers. At the sight of the scout troopers guarding the entrance, you and Mando steal a quick second of eye contact. It’s Greef that handles them, though you can’t help but tense just slightly as they ask for a chain code.

“This is a gift for the boss,” Greef says.

“Chain code,” the trooper demands.

He hands over a card, which the trooper scans. For a moment, you think that you’ve already been caught, but then the trooper looks back and forth between Mando and Greef. “I’ll give you twenty credits for the helmet,” he offers.

Karga gives a half-hearted chuckle. “Not a chance. That’s going on my wall,” he says.

“On your wall?,” Mando mutters, turning slightly.

“Go with it,” Greef says quietly.

“Go ahead,” the trooper says, handing back the card. Greef urges the Mandalorian forward, and you walk with the two of them through the street. You feel every stormtrooper eye trained on the three of you and the empty pram that floats just behind. Taking in a deep breath through your nose, you try to keep yourself steady. But the amount of Imperials is unnerving.

When you make it to the door of the client’s building, you clench your fists at your sides, walking in right behind Mando. As you enter, you see that Karga’s words from the previous night are true. There are four troopers in the room to guard the client.

You look around the empty cantina, finding the man that you presume to be the client sitting at a table alone. He’s an older man with narrowed eyes and a strange aura about him. Looking at him, you wouldn’t have guessed that he was an officer even in his prime. He stands, approaching Greef and Mando as they draw near, his eyes curious as he takes in the sight of the Mandalorian. You keep a bit of distance, surveying the stormtroopers without them catching your eyes.

“Look what I brought you. As promised,” Karga says, presenting the Mandalorian to the client. The old man puts a hand to Mando’s cuirass and then his helmet, looking the suit of armor over with interest.

“What exquisite craftsmanship,” he says, his voice slow and raspy and crooning. It holds a certain mystery to it that doesn’t sit right with you. “It is amazing how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans,” he continues, but then looks to Karga again. “Can I offer you a libation to celebrate the closing of our shared narrative?,” he asks.

“I would be obliged,” he replies with a nod.

The client gestures to the bartender droid, and once the droid gets to work, he takes a seat at the table again. “Please sit,” he tells Greef, who then slides into the booth with Mando on the inside. You take just a step closer, watching the stormtroopers as they change position, all focused on the Mandalorian. There are more of them now.

“It is a shame that your people suffered so. Just as in this situation, it was all avoidable. Why did Mandalore resist our expansion? The Empire improves every system it touches. Judge by any metric. Safety, prosperity, trade, opportunity, peace. Compare Imperial rule to what is happening now. Look outside. Is the world more peaceful since the revolution? I see nothing but death and chaos.” You listen closely to the client’s words, having to bite your tongue at the admiration for such a terrorizing regime. You’ve seen firsthand the way that people have suffered at the hands of the Empire. Nothing could ever make you believe that it was good. Nothing.

“I would like to see the baby,” the client says, his focus shifting quickly. You watch the pod, knowing that now is when the Mandalorian must strike. Once the pram is opened and the client discovers that the child isn’t there, the charade is over. You ready yourself to fight, but don’t move to draw your weapon yet. You can’t do it with the stormtroopers watching you.

“Uh..,” Greef hesitates, putting his hand out to stop the client from opening the pod, “It is asleep.” It’s a lame excuse. You know. But if it buys you any amount of time, then it works.

The client looks around at the troopers in warning. Still not retracting his hand. “We all will be quiet,” he promises. Your heart starts beating a little faster. Sweat beads at the back of your neck. The next few moments will either end triumphantly or in your death. You’re ready for either.

“Open the pram,” he demands as Greef sits in silence.

One of the stormtroopers approaches the client, and you can hear chatter coming from the radio, but you can’t decipher what’s being said. The client stands, and with him so does Greef. “Don’t think me to be rude,” the client says, “but I must take this call.” With this, he walks over to the bar. As soon as the attention is no longer on the three of you, you turn to Mando and Greef, watching as Mando frees himself from the binders.

“Give me the blaster,” he whispers.

The exchange is quick and discreet. “You get one shot,” Greef warns.

“You said there would only be four,” you murmur, leaning in closer to the two men.

“Well, there are more. What can I tell you?,” he replies.

You stand up straight again, glancing in the client’s direction. He’s bent over the bar, speaking quietly to whomever has contacted him. It’s all quiet, that is, until shots come through the window, hitting the client. His body falls to the floor, and the barrage continues. You drop to the ground, moving with the Mandalorian to take cover. Several stormtroopers are caught in the blaze, and they fall dead to the floor as well.

Concealed behind a column, you wait what seems like forever for the attack to end. When it goes quiet, you’re up, moving quickly and carefully to one side of the window while Mando goes to the other. You peer around the wall and out the window. Your heart drops to your stomach and your blood runs cold at what you see.

Death troopers.

But that’s not the end of it. A transport comes in, carrying another battalion of stormtroopers. They surround the building and stand behind the line of death troopers, poised and ready to shoot on command. You look to the Mandalorian. You’re outnumbered and surrounded. You know that it’s very likely that you won’t leave the cantina alive.

“What do we do?,” you ask.

Mando brings the comlink closer to his helmet. “Kuiil? Are you back to the ship yet?,” he asks.

There’s no immediate answer.

“Are you there? Do you copy?”

“Yes!,” you hear, and you sigh in relief knowing that the child is still safe.

“Are you back to the ship yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Get back to the ship and bail. Get the kid out of here. We’re pinned down!,” Mando exclaims, and you close your eyes for just a moment, praying to whatever deity or maker that will listen to you that the child and the ugnaught will make it back to the ship and far away from Nevarro. Your death will be worth it if the little one lives.

You open your eyes when you hear rustling outside, and you hear a ship coming in. You look out the window, watching as a TIE fighter approaches, landing right behind the scores of troopers. This is it. You were right. This was always about far more than just the client.

The door on the top of the ship hisses as it opens, and from it rises another man. He comes down from the ship and walks between the troopers, stopping just in front of the line of death troopers in the front. “You have something I want,” he proclaims.

You look back at Mando, confusion written across your facial features. “Who is that?,” you ask, though frankly you don’t expect him to know. He doesn’t answer you, instead keeping his eyes trained on this new adversary.

“You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not,” the man continues, his voice echoing off of the buildings as he speaks.

Mando tries the comlink again. “Kuiil, are you back to the ship yet? They’re onto us!,” he says. Again, there’s no immediate answer. “Kuiil, come in!”

“In a few moments,” the other man begins, and your focus on Kuiil’s answer is broken, “it will be mine.”

“Kuiil! Do you copy!” The Mandalorian sounds much more panicked now. “Kuiil!”

“It means more to me than you will ever know.”

Your gaze shifts back and forth between Mando and the man outside. Your stomach is in knots and you’ve broken out into a cold sweat. The ugnaught’s silence is eating at you.

“Kuiil! Are you there?!” The Mandalorian keeps trying to get an answer. “Come in Kuiil. Kuiil, come in.” Still there is nothing. “Kuiil, are you there?!” He’s yelling now, and panicked tears are burning at your eyes at the thought of what might have happened to the ugnaught and the baby. “Do you copy?! Kuiil? Kuiil!”

No answer.

You look out the window at the masses of troopers and the TIE fighter and the man that demands to have the child for himself. You look back at the Mandalorian and Greef Karga and the destroyed cantina littered with bodies. You wonder how it all could have gotten so out of hand so quickly, how no one had any idea of what was in store for the child. You’d felt something wrong before you ever landed on Nevarro, but even your intuition had never prompted you to consider something of this magnitude.

The Mandalorian meets your gaze. You don’t have to see his eyes to know his terror. You can feel it just as intensely as you feel your own.

---

Chapter Four: Cuyanir

---

Permanent Tags:  @theforceofdarkandlight​ @hail-doodles​​ @aerynwrites​ @murdermewithbooks​ @themandjalorian​​ @longitud-de-onda​ @readsalot73​​ @lovingtheway​ @talesfromtheguild​ @mystical-934​  @lavenderl3mons​ @tiffdawg​ @lokiaddicted​ @adikaofmandalore​ @blue-tidal-wave​ @forever-rogue​ @flower-petal-blooming​​ @fleurdemiel145​  @cable-kenobi​ @opheliaelysia​ @pynch-bug​​ @pedropascalito​ @creamysacrilege​ @bandofmarvels​ @paryl​​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @agentmoonshine1​

Kir’manir Tags: @adlerorzel-blog​​ @sinnamon-bunn​ @kristalhi​ @frantheseer​ @mystical-934​​ @icanbringyouincold​ @canoodlincanary​​ @heytheredemonsitsyourgirl​ @rzrcrst​​ @roxypeanut​ @mrsparknuts​ @afootnoteinyourhappiness​ @deputytrash​​ @altarsw​ @irreplaceable-ecstasy​