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#She's meant to be just a little off-kilter - not in a danger way just a little freaky lol

aloev3rathings · 2 years

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i have more headcanons, and stuff I might include in my fic Aloe Vera, but this time, HUNTLOW EDITION!

1. hunter isn’t totally ignorant, he has had some exposure to media and books, so he has an idea of what romance entails but never really gave it much thought before bc he just assumed he would be too busy, just isn’t in the cards for him, he didn’t have anything to offer (moreso post-leaving the EC),etc. however that changes after ASIAS. at first, hunter thought he was just feeling great admiration for Willow and how skilled she was with plant magic, flyer derby and how confident she is, and absolutely 100% deserving of her Captain ranking despite aligning herself with wild witches. it takes a while and actually getting to know her for his initial feelings to develop into full-on crush mode, and when he finally happens he’s thrown off kilter bc he’s like “when in Titan’s name did THIS happen??” hunter is so used to having people in neat little boxes in his head (ally, friend, enemy, etc.) that he’s utterly discombobulated when he realize that Willow is not only existing in almost every category, but also exists in one entirely on her own. she also happens to be very pretty, he’s not stupid, hunter has eyes. he could be physically attracted to someone but he was mostly ‘ehhhhh’ about it bc you know, GG stuff, but when he was Caleb with the Entrails, he had a taste for more, and Willow is certainly someone he wants to get to know more.

2. on Willow’s part, she liked Hunter as a friend right away, and initially after ASIAS, she fancied a bit she might be able to convince him to change sides, bc clearly this boy isn’t all bad, just caught between a rock and a hard place with family obligations and pressure (which reminded her way too much of Amity and she reminded herself that she’s not a child anymore, she can now fight back to keep her friends; in her mind she’s not gonna make the mistake of backing down twice) and not only was he her friend, he was smart, awkwardly funny in a deadpan accidental kind of way, clearly skilled in fighting, and a natural in flyer derby, and he reminds her so much of Luz and Amity and Gus that being friends with him just felt like a forgone conclusion.

3. Willow’s feelings developed from a place of protection; once she heard of what Hunter experienced in EC, she was. fucking distraught. not that she’d let anyone know that, but that meant his life was in even more danger during the time she got to know him up until they reunited at the Hexside rebellion. bc how could she even hope to be the witch she wanted to be if she couldn’t protect those she cares about? and while she knows Hunter is perfectly capable, knowing how talented and skilled he is but still having gone through so much pain just made her remember how alone and hopeless she felt back as “half-a-witch” willow.

4. it’s not until hunter reveals even more of his background (I’d imagine when he finally reveals his grimwalker heritage) she’s made up her mind to protect Hunter, no matter what, for as long as they both shall live. the intensity and conviction of this thought hit her like a ton of bricks as soon as she thought it. she wants this boy in her life for the long haul, endless nights and texts with him talking about everything and nothing is proof enough for her, and the ease in which they want to protect each other. but the intensity of these thoughts is what surprises her bc while she’d feel the same feelings about her friends, the happiness and relief she feels when she thinks about hunter engulfs her from her head to her toes, her heart on fire, and considering her strength in magic is so heavily tied to her emotions, once she realizes “oh my Titan, I LIKE HIM-LIKE HIM.” every plant within a two mile radius of her person blooms at once.

5. after Hunter realizes his feelings for Willow are romantic in nature, he’s like “what now?” so he defaults to his usual past time regarding all his problems: research. he finds himself spending A LOT of free time at bonesborough’s library when he’s not reading into any of his other interests. he’s fully embarrassed to loiter near the young adult/teen section, considering how many people are usually there, and he keeps turning around and going back and forth enough times that Amity, who has been watching him this entire time, takes pity on him and suggests books that could actually help once he stutters out his reasons (“look, the emperor’s coven left me isolated, im hopeless when it comes to relating to and socializing with people, and it seems like relationships are tied in with that, ok??”). Amity is really kind of smug about this development, and eventually she sits down with him and says, “you like Willow, don’t you?”

6. because honestly? she can’t blame him one bit. and Amity could tell from the get-go that Hunter had some level of interest in Willow, but obvs they had other things going on at the time. and pre-labyrinth runners Amity would’ve been hissing and spitting and threatening Hunter with a shovel talk for even thinking he could pull one over and steal Willow away, but now she has seen how hard he has been working on his friendship with Willow, and he honestly cares about her as a person. and sure, maybe his awkward blush moments remind amity waaaaay too much of herself before she and Luz started dating, and damn it, she’s a much better person than who she was a year ago, so she’s gonna help this dude bc hunter has like, -5 game.

7. so she helps him out, drawing on her own experiences with dating Luz, telling him about stuff Willow likes. even sharing a few stories from her childhood friendship with Willow, even though it’s a little painful bc Hunter is finding out about all these happy memories in a positive context, while Amity still feels so much regret when she thinks about them. as their friendship grows, Amity becomes the one Hunter comes to first with any relationship insecurities and problems once Hunter and Willow actually start dating. also “amity it’s just not enough to get her flowers, I have to get her the BEST FLOWERS. AMITY HELP.” (he is so lucky he has grown on her and she loves Willow and Luz so much, the hopeless idiot).

8. confessions? Hunter does make the first move, much to everyone’s shock, but Willow triggered it. Willow and Hunter stay behind after flyer derby practice one day, just lazily sitting on their staffs watching the sunset and stars start to peak out. Hunter is rambling about how star placements are really similar to the human realm and his theories on how two different realms of existence could potentially share the same sky, and willow is just watching and listening with such fondness that it just slips out when he takes a breath before rambling on, “i like you so much”. it’s when he’s gaping at her in shock, his face blotchy and red to his ears does she realizing what she’s said, she squeaks and covers her red face in her hands, wishing the Titan would rise and swallow her whole. he floats over, gently removes her hands from her face, steels his nerves to kiss her on the cheek before pulling back, eyes wide and terrified, asking if she’d like to go out with him. the grudgby field below them immediately bursts into wildflowers. willow doesn’t notice bc she’s beaming and launches herself into hunter’s arms mid air exclaiming yes. Do they almost fall? yes but it’s okay.

10. this is a joke, but at the owl house, Luz’s shipping sense are tingling. she stares out the window, and after a beat, pumps her fist in the air, hissing “yes.” king is like “weh??” and she just smiles, “you’ll get it when you’re older.” Eda is staring at Luz like she’s nuts.

#the owl house #huntlow #aloe’s talking to the void #aloe’s writing fanfics again #headcanons

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zukkaoru · 3 years

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good evening zukka nation yesterday i watched episode 3x03 of legend of korra and decided hmm. you know what would be fun? if zukka had been casually canon! why would that be fun? because then we could’ve seen p’li trying to tick zuko off by mentioning sokka.

anyway then i wrote this. i haven’t watched past 3x07 of tlok so just... ignore any inaccuracies

tw for references to character death

and in the end, it had word count: 1016

P’li creeps closer to the cell door, and lowers herself enough that she can look Zuko in the eye. He meets her gaze, knowing better than to display any sign of fear.

“Where’s your little Water Tribe toy?” she taunts. “Didn’t bring him along today?”

Something icy stabs through Zuko’s chest at the reference to Sokka. It’s been long enough that the mere mention of his name doesn’t throw Zuko off kilter, but the way P’li speaks - like she somehow already knows - has Zuko wishing he could rip the cell door off its hinges and put an end to her right here and now. He might do it, too, if not for the knowledge that Sokka would disapprove.

Sokka would say something like, “She’s just trying to get under your skin. Don’t let her. You’re stronger than that, I know you are,” because Sokka always, always, believed in Zuko.

As it is, Zuko can’t stop his body temperature from rising.

P’li gasps, mock concern filling her voice to the point where it’s making Zuko sick. “Oh? Don’t tell me something happened to him.”

Zuko looks away from P’li’s gaze enough that it answers her question wordlessly. He can feel Tonraq standing tense next to him, like he’s ready to hold Zuko back from a fight. Like he’s hoping he even can.

P’li clicks her tongue. “Well,” she says, the false sense of concern abandoned in favor of her original taunting tone. “We all knew you’d outlive him anyways.”

Zuko wants to scream. He wants to tell P’li off, tell her how it should have been Zuko to die first, how Sokka’s only gone because he sacrificed himself to save Zuko’s life. But then again, maybe that’s what she means. Of course Sokka wouldn’t have let Zuko die before him. He’s too stubborn, too loyal, too self-sacrificing, too insistent that he’s always the less important one.

He never was. As far as Zuko is concerned, Sokka was the most important. As far as Zuko is concerned, he still is.

Because it’s Sokka’s memory - Sokka’s ghost, haunting Zuko’s mind - that stops him from lashing out at P’li. It’s the part of Sokka’s spirit still dwelling in Zuko’s bones that reels his temper in and stops him from inadvertently freeing P’li before Zaheer even makes it to the North Pole.

She’s just trying to get under your skin.

If it had actually been Sokka speaking, he would’ve thrown some pet name in there that Zuko would have pretended to hate during the early years of their relationship but ultimately admitted he liked because it was a reminder that Sokka had chosen him.

Sokka isn’t actually speaking, though. He isn’t here. He’s gone.

Zuko steps towards the cell, bracing himself to throw Tonraq’s hand off him if he tries anything. He doesn’t.

“If you’re going to talk about Sokka,” Zuko has no idea how he manages to keep his voice steady, “at least have the decency to use his name.” It’s not even close to what he wanted to tell P’li, but it’s what he can manage without setting the entire place on fire and putting Avatar Korra in even more danger than she already is.

He turns on his heel, away from P’li so he doesn’t have to look at her menacing smile for a moment longer, looking like she’s trying to peer into Zuko’s mind and figure out what she can say to tip him over the edge. And he doesn’t have to stare at that mark on her forehead that sends Zuko all the way back to the Western Air Temple before the war was over, back to Team Avatar reluctantly accepting him into their group and Sokka’s soft smile when he showed Zuko to his room.

He avoids making eye contact with Tonraq or either of the kids. “Let’s go,” he grumbles, pushing past them. He doesn’t bother turning around to make sure they follow.

“I’m sorry for your loss!” P’li calls after him. “No really - I am. You two were good for each other.”

Zuko winces. His hand reaches up towards his topknot absentmindedly, reaching for a hairpiece he can’t bear to wear anymore because it hurts too much to be reminded that Sokka is gone every time he catches a glimpse of his reflection.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and tries to block out P’li’s voice. It doesn’t work.

“I know what it’s like to be separated from a significant other for a long time.” He can hear the smirk in her voice. “Only difference is mine is coming back for me. Yours can’t.”

The sharp iciness digs itself deeper into Zuko, wrenching his heart in half and making his stomach churn. He closes his eyes and thanks Agni it’s too cold here for tears to fall. He hears footsteps and hushed voices behind him, but he pushes them from his mind and walks onwards.

It’s not like being outside of this prison will help much, though. It’s all snow, all Water Tribe and reminiscent of Sokka. It’s all Boiling Rock Freezer-adjacent. It’s all a reminder of what he’s lost, far as the eye can see, and he can feel the heat radiating off his body.

If Sokka were here, he’d tell Zuko to focus on the task at hand instead of letting P’li’s words get the better of him. He’d wrap his arms around Zuko and whisper into his good ear, and he’d hang on for longer than he needed too under the pretense of being cold. He’d tell Zuko that no matter what happens, they won’t let any harm come to Korra or they’ll die trying to keep her safe.

It was a promise they’d made each other nearly a decade and a half ago, on Aang’s behalf. They would do whatever they needed to in order to keep Korra safe, even if it meant dying.

It was a promise Sokka had made Zuko too, time and time again. He would do whatever it took to keep Zuko safe, even if it meant dying.

And in the end, it had.

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justnerdthings · 3 years

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New Beginnings Ch.5

female reader x Liu Kang/Kung Lao (Not sure which yet)

I don't need to explain anything. I'm a dramatic ass bitch.

Also, you find out your arcana today!

Day three of training. Your arms ached to the point that changing out of your night robe and into a clean gi took several minutes. Today was not going to be fun.

The morning had gone about the same as yesterday. You were only a step closer to the edge of that cliff, but thanks to withdrawal, you may as well have been hanging off of it. The pain throughout your body acted as a welcomed distraction. Training with Liu had been the same.

It was after dinner now and Liu was leading you through the halls.

“How are your arms feeling?” Liu asked.

“Sore.”

“And your back?”

“Still sore, Liu…” You’d been a little testy today. The pain radiating in your upper body probably didn’t help, but you knew the real reason. This was the third day in a row you hadn’t taken your medication.

“I see…” He’d noticed your demeanor since breakfast, and it only seemed to get worse throughout the day. Lao had warned him you were rather hostile this morning. He was worried this would happen. “I’m sorry that we don’t have your medication here.”

“Why can’t I just go home and get it? I’ll come back.”

“Even if you did, what would happen when you run out?”

“I’d just get it refilled.”

“And what if Mortal Kombat comes sooner than expected and you are without it? It can last days.”

Today you were in no mood for his knack of poking holes in your logic. But you bit your tongue.

“This will be good for you,” He said.

“This is hell, Liu.”

“It will pass.”

“But will I?”

Liu looked at you and his jaw hardened. You’d been increasingly more morbid since breakfast. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Not unless you got two-hundred milligrams of sertraline in your pocket.”

He frowned. “What did you used to do before you were on medication?”

“Cry.”

“Y/N…”

You sighed. Patience was wearing thin. “Run.”

“Run?”

“Yeah. Not far or anything. Just enough to burn off the rogue adrenaline.”

“Would you like to run?”

You looked at him, not entirely sure what he meant.

“We can run.” He gestured down the hall. “Lao and I used to race each other through the temple many times.”

“What stopped you?”

“It wasn’t challenging anymore.” He grinned.

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. “I doubt I’ll be much of a challenge, Liu.”

“I don’t mind. Besides, endurance training is important for a fighter.”

Again with his logic… “Okay. Sure.”

He smiled. “Great. Whenever you’re ready.” He gestured.

You took a few deep breaths as you stared down the hall. It couldn't have been more than a few hundred feet. That would be easy enough. Your legs pushed off, and you ran at a comfortable jog. You hadn’t done this in years. It felt alien at first, but you quickly picked up the pace as your legs remembered how to carry you properly. Your heart pounded as you raced through the halls, dodging monks. It was like a metronome you had to keep up with. You felt so free, you turned a corner and kept going.

Liu had no problem keeping up with you, but stayed back at a pace to keep an eye on you. After a while, his presence behind you grew annoying… suffocating. You sped up, but he must have kept up. You could practically feel him breathing down your neck. Your heart pounded faster. Your anxiety was creeping up again. You were starting to feel things that weren’t true. Bugs on your arms. Always bugs on your arms. Thick air...

You couldn’t breathe.

You came to a stop and put a hand against a wall. You leaned against it as you fought for each breath. Your chest was on fire. Sweat had soaked you. You clenched your eyes shut and bent over as your chest, arms, and back screamed with pain.

Liu was right there. Concern was all over his face as he moved in front of you and knelt to meet your eyes. Seeing them closed so tight, and the pain on your face, fear flowed through him. “Y/N. Y/N! Are you alright?” You felt his warm hands gently hold your face.

You shook your head free from his hands. “Can’t… can’t bre—… breathe,” you gasped. Another squeeze of pain in your chest finally caused tears to roll down your cheeks as you cried out. Was this it? Was this the heart attack you had feared would come ever since you were a teenager? You hadn’t thought much about it in the past few years, but this was it, wasn’t it? You were going to die. You were going to die just like your great grandparents had, just like your grandmother had, how your mother was predicted to die. Heart disease was going to kill your whole family. And you were going to die right here, right now!

Strong arms had swept you up and your body tensed with the sudden weightlessness. Did you just die? No. You were being carried and rushed down the halls.

But you were still convinced this was it. You were dying. You were dying and there wasn’t a real hospital anywhere near here. You were doomed. Your heart pounded faster and harder as if it was about to burst out of your chest. You were going to die in this strange place. No family. No friends. Your chest tightened and you gasped, gripping Liu's gi as if it would save you. Your heart was doing summersaults. Tremors began to plague you and your blood turned into ice. Tears were streaming down your face now as panic took complete control of your body.

There was a pause in Liu’s pace as the ground began to shake. You could feel him hold you closer, protectively, before consciousness slipped away from you.

————

Liu’s own heart was racing as he watched your face. The pain that shot through you… You weren’t breathing properly at all. Tears unlike he’d ever seen streamed down your face. He had no idea what was happening to you, but he knew it wasn’t good. It wasn’t right. You needed medical attention.

In one graceful motion, he’d scooped you up. You shook in his arms. You were so cold. Something was definitely not right. He carried you down the hall, racing for the infirmary.

The ground rumbled. He barely registered it before it shook his footing off kilter. He held you closer and backed against a wall to steady himself and you. A crack shot up the wall opposite him which quickly webbed off up and down the hall. Pieces of the cave were falling. The icy wave of adrenaline washed over him. The temple was crumbling!

Lightning shot through the hall. Lui ducked down and out of the way with you, using his back-side to shield you from stray sparks. The shaking stopped. Peeking over his shoulder, he found the cracks in the walls to be mended with black glass. He didn’t move for a moment. Would there be an aftershock?

But nothing came.

He stood. You were still safe in his arms. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked down at your face. His heart skipped.

You were limp. You’d passed out on him. At least he hoped you were just passed out...

He held you closer, chest to chest, ear to your lips. A relieved sigh escaped him again. You were breathing. Good. He carried you again, running for the infirmary.

You laid on an old gurney, still passed out. The monks were confident that you weren’t in any danger, but it did little to wave Liu’s worry. As Lui stood by you, he thumbed his prayer beads, trying to register everything that happened. You had been so frightened…

“How is she?”

Lui was pulled out of his head and looked up. Raiden had pulled aside the curtain. Lui quickly bowed his head in respect, surprised to see him. “They say she’s fine,” he answered.

Raiden nodded and stepped closer to you. His hand hovered over your head for a moment, then he moved it slowly down the length of your body right to your feet. “Fear consumes her… She must learn to control it. She nearly killed you all.”

Lui had watched him, then looked to his face with confusion.

Raiden glanced to him and swept his hand back up your body as if trying to pinpoint something. "Don't tell me you haven't caught on yet, Liu Kang," he said with amusement.

"She did that?" Liu asked in disbelief, watching Raiden's hand. Could you really have shaken the earth so violently?

Raiden nodded. Finally his hand stopped right above your chest. "Ah, there it is." He clenched his hand, as if grabbing hold of something and pulled his hand up as if lifting something out of you. A small black wisp was pulled from your chest. It wriggled in protest as Raiden held it.

Liu's eyes widened at the sight. "What is that?"

You released a breath and your chest stilled.

Adrenaline kicked in again and Liu moved closer. No...

"Ah-uh. None of that…" Raiden chided gently. He placed his free hand directly on your chest and gave you a small shock. It jerked your body. Your lungs dragged in a breath as life was restored to you.

Liu allowed himself to breathe again. Raiden pulled his hand away from you and turned his attention back to the black wisp caught in his other hand. "Disease plagues her family, Liu Kang. But no longer does it plague her." He squeezed the wisp in his hand and sparks ignited. It burnt away in seconds.

"Disease?" Liu had no idea you were ill.

"Her fear stems from this disease. She has lived in fear of it since she was a small child."

"Is her anxiety is gone now?"

"She will still have anxieties, but knowing that her heart is not a time bomb will ease it." Raiden looked over you again. He placed his hand on your head, then turned to face Liu. "She is fond of you, Liu Kang. With Kung Lao's help you two will give her reason to not only fight, but live. I'm interested to see how that turns out." A small grin pulled his lips as he turned away and pulled aside the curtain. "Very interested indeed."

——————

You woke later into the night. You hated yourself. You hadn’t had an episode like that in years. You’d forgotten just how bad they were. You felt like a total jackass that you'd wasted everyone's time. You had thought you were going to drop dead! You laid there on the gurney, cussing yourself out with a throbbing head, staring at the ceiling and those stupid lanturns… Did the walls always have that black glass running through them?

Liu poked his head through the curtain and knocked on the wall. You turned your eyes to see him. He offered you a small smile. “May I come in?”

You nodded and closed your eyes for a moment as the headache shifted behind them.

He stepped in and to your side. His smile turned sad. Pity. It was pity. You were sure of it. “How do you feel?” he asked innocently enough.

You held your head and tears started filling your eyes again. "Like an idiot."

He frowned and moved closer. “You are not an idiot.”

“Yes, I am. I thought I was dying. But it was just a stupid anxiety attack!” You kicked an IV rack in your frustration. Liu hadn’t been expecting that and jumped slightly. The crash gained attention from the monks and one pulled the curtain aside to investigate.

“Sorry,” you said through tears. But you weren’t.

The monk looked from you to Liu with suspicion. Liu nodded to him and moved to pick up the IV rack. He set it well out of your reach. Luckily you weren’t hooked up to it. The monk stayed for a moment longer until he was confident that everything was fine. Liu returned to your side. “When you described your anxiety the other night, I had no idea it was this bad.”

“I forgot,” you admitted, wiping your nose.

He nodded and pulled over a stool, taking a seat. “I can see why you would seek the help of medication.”

“Enough to see that I need it?”

“No.” He watched as you continued to cry. He took your hand gently and held it in both of his, causing you to look at him. “Lord Raiden visited while you were unconscious. He cured you of your family's illness."

You didn't know what he meant. Your brows knotted.

"Why did you not tell us you had heart disease?" He asked, his voice gentle. “I would have never let you run if I’d known…”

You pushed yourself up a bit, watching him. You hadn't had the disease that your family had… At least it hadn't been diagnosed yet. "What did he do?"

"He removed it. You no longer suffer from it."

"What?" You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You had heart disease? You knew you would eventually, but a small part of you had hoped you never would. But you did have it. Did. And Raiden had removed it? "How… How could he just remove it?"

"He can do many inconceivable things."

You stared at him. No… No way. That was impossible...

Liu gave you a smile as if he knew you were doubting him, doubting Raiden. "You're not going to die, Y/N," he said so tenderly, so sincere. Oh, God, he was telling you the truth!

You pulled your hand from his and covered your mouth. Tears streamed down your face as a tremendous weight had lifted off your shoulders. You sat up and fell into his arms. You sobbed like a little baby. You were going to be okay!

"Lord Raiden," you said, hardly containing your immense relief as you quickly climbed the steps to meet him in his sanctuary. You weren't sure how to say it, so you just said it. "Thank you. Thank you so much!"

Raiden turned and lifted a white brow, but he was smiling. It was very refreshing to have you around. The monks were always a little too proper for his taste. "You're welcome, Y/N," he said, his voice hinting at his amusement.

"I… I don't know how, or why you did it. But really, thank you," you couldn't possibly thank him enough. It was like he gave you a brand new start at life.

He chuckled. "You're welcome, Y/N," he repeated.

You stopped before him. You could feel the electricity in his aura and it gave you a surge of energy. You smiled to him, then bowed your head politely like you'd seen the monks, Kung Lao, and Liu Kang do.

"Ah. I see you've been watching the monks," He suspected.

"Yes." You lifted your head to look back up at him. His glowing blue eyes were staring at you.

"How has your training been going?"

"Exhausting." You sighed. "And painful."

He grinned. "There is a saying you humans have. I think it would apply to you."

You thought for a second. "No pain, no gain?"

"Yes. That's it," he realized.

You gave him a small frown. This wasn’t the end of the pain.

"I assume you've decided to stay."

You nodded.

"Good."

"Can I ask you something?"

"I believe you just did."

It took you a moment to realize he made a joke.

He chuckled. You were a delight to play with. "What is your question?"

"Why me?"

Ah. Yes. That question. He'd been expecting that. He nodded. "Why not you?"

"... I don't have any experience."

"That's not entirely true."

"What do you mean?"

"You have plenty of experience standing up for yourself and others. You have even fought to keep others alive--others who were strangers to you. I believe Liu Kang said it quite accurately: You have a brave soul."

You fell silent. He was right. You had spent most of your life fighting. It just wasn't the fighting Mortal Kombat needed.

"Oh, but it is." He'd read your thoughts again. "There is more to Mortal Kombat than defeating your opponent. You must have something to fight for. Something more than glory…"

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #liu kang #kung lao #raiden #reader insert #fanfic #fic #reader x character #ludi lin #max huang #tadanobu asano #new beginnings

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lloydskywalkers · 3 years

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Heyo! Hope your doing exceptionally well, wonderful and ur staying safe! I was reading ur little oneshots for the movie! Verse and instantly fell in love! Think u have anymore for Kai and Lloyd? (But u don’t need to listen to this, obviously hehe) Have a splendid day!

ahhH thank you, I hope you’re doing well too!! :D oh man it’s been so long since i’ve written something for movie-verse, but I’ve had this little snippet in my head for a while so I guess it’s as good a time as any (and it is, of course, about kai and lloyd bc when is it noT)

it’s a little different than what i usually write, for movie-verse? but i hope it fits the bill! (takes place pre-movie, btw)

Of all his friends, Lloyd thinks Kai is most like the sun. Not just for his codename, and the enthusiasm with which he brings fire to the team, metaphorically and far too often literally, but for how bright he is. Kai reminds Lloyd of the sun at full force, strong and blazing and staunchly refusing to let anyone hide from his warmth. An endlessly combusting ball of stubbornness and passion.

Kai also reminds Lloyd of the sun in the way that he possesses about the same amount of brain cells the sun does, which is zero, because the sun has no brain — much like Kai.

“Hey, ru—de, ow, stop—”

Kai’s petulant response strangles off in cracked pain as Lloyd hushes him, simultaneously pulling the alcohol-soaked cloth from his arm with a sympathetic wince.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lloyd murmurs, wringing the edge of the cloth. “But I’ve gotta — it’ll get infected, if you don’t—”

“Nah, s’okay,” Kai says, breath hissing out through clenched teeth. He gives Lloyd a wavering smile that could almost be encouraging, were he not bleeding over Lloyd’s faded bedspread. “Just caught me off guard, I’m good now. ‘Sides, the — the stitches are gonna be worse, so—”

“It won’t be that bad,” Lloyd promises him, cleaning the rest of the deep slashes that run across Kai’s arm as quickly as he can. The lower ones aren’t so bad — he could get away without stitches, maybe. It’s the uppermost one that scares Lloyd, cutting deep enough into Kai’s skin to pose a threat. And Lloyd has no intention of leaving Kai anywhere near in danger, especially with the reason he’s hurt in the first place.

Lloyd swallows against the thick lump that suddenly forms in his throat, trying to banish the flood of emotions that have been rising since the battle against his father’s forces earlier. Surprise, shock, gratitude—? A swirling maelstrom of a deep-seated kind of aching warmth Lloyd is utterly unfamiliar with. It leaves him off-kilter, and words don’t come easily as they usually do.

Not that words ever come easily to Lloyd, but normally he isn’t quite this stuttering. Maybe. He hopes not. Maybe he’s just hyperaware right now, after everything, and he always sounds this embarrassing.

“I promise,” Lloyd continues, yanking himself from his thoughts as he busies with the needle. “I’ve got a lot of experience, and I’ll be gentle.”

Kai watches Lloyd threading the needle with a thinly-veiled fear, but he nods, the bravado Lloyd’s more familiar with making its way across his face. “Nice,” he says. “I trust you, Dr. Lloyd.”

Lloyd’s hands falter with the needle for a moment, before he resumes sterilizing it, ducking his head. Kai sounds like he means it — Kai sounds like he means everything he says, but the way he says trust hits differently, for Lloyd.

They’ve only been a team for few months, now. Not very long at all, to form any kind of trust in the son of your greatest enemy. Lloyd’s been going to school with some of the same people since kindergarten, and they’ve never looked at him with anything kinder than hatred, much less trust. And yet Kai is here, offering him his bleeding arm in Lloyd’s tiny room, trusting him to repair the damage he only took because he was protecting Lloyd.

Lloyd doesn’t understand. He doesn’t — people don’t — but his team—

They listened to him. Actually listened to him, to Lloyd. They actually listen to him in general, have since they were all thrown together in this odd little grouping, but it hasn’t quite hit home in the way it did tonight, when he’d snapped orders at them in barely-restrained panic, Kai’s blood staining his fingers as he’d staunched the knife wounds meant for him.

They hadn’t flinched back at his raised voice. Lloyd never raises his voice — he’s learned to keep it quiet, soft, unassuming. Even the slightest slip of frustration is enough to send anyone around him murmuring in suspicion, eyes narrowing and hissed whispers of just like his father filling the air.

Lloyd’s voice had been sharp and strained, barking across the rooftop, and they’d listened. No one flinched back, no eyes widened in fear — they’d just listened. They’re still listening, carrying out Lloyd’s orders without question, and it’s — it’s dizzying, if Lloyd had to put a word to it.

Cole and Zane are taking care of clean-up — something Lloyd will have to thank them for later, profusely. Neither were particularly happy about letting Kai out of their sights, but Cole and Zane are better at keeping each other steady than anyone else. It was the right call, Lloyd knows it was. Hopes it was.

But Lloyd hasn’t been having much faith in his calls, tonight. Not after Kai went down.

He swallows, focusing on the sounds reverberating from behind his closed door. Nya and Jay are talking with his mother, Nya’s louder tones easier to hear as she laughs. Lloyd knows her well enough to catch the strain in it, but he knows it’ll fool his mother. They’re distraction — Lloyd’s house was closest, and he’s got the best supplies stashed there. No one questions why he’s the one with the fully stocked medical kit, but Lloyd suspects they’ve all drawn their own conclusions.

He wishes they’d believe him, when he says it’s because he’s worried for them. He grew up with Wu as his uncle, who picks fights on a daily basis — with Morro as his cousin, who picks fights on an hourly basis. Lloyd knows the importance of having the good kind of medical supplies.

He finishes prepping the needle, squeezing Kai’s wrist briefly in warning. Lloyd’s not usually a tactile person — not that anyone would let him be — but he knows Kai soaks up touch like a starved sponge, and Lloyd’s desperate to give any kind of comfort he can before he starts with the needle.

Kai swallows, fixing his eyes firmly on the faded glow-in-the-dark stars plastered across Lloyd’s ceiling.

“Okay,” he says, his voice tight. “Bring it on.”

Lloyd swallows, steels himself, and sets the needle against his skin. Kai flinches at the first prick, eyes squeezing shut briefly, but otherwise he doesn’t move, jaw set stubbornly as Lloyd moves quickly. For his part, Lloyd keeps his eyes locked on the stitches, his hands steady. For all that Lloyd’s made up of bouncing nerves half the time, his hands rarely shake. Never when patching wounds up. He’s always been proud of how steady he can hold a needle, and tonight is no exception.

It’s the least he can do.

Kai suddenly tenses up, a broken-off noise strangling in his throat. Lloyd’s heart twists, but he stays steady, rallying himself. Conversation — Kai likes talking, right? Distraction, he can do that.

“So, um,” Lloyd stutters. On second thought, he’s awful at small talk. But — for Kai. “The way you took down that last guy was, it was really cool. Where’d you learn that?”

Kai bites his lip, exhaling shakily before he answers. “I train too, you know.”

Lloyd’s mouth quirks, despite himself. “Not like that.”

“What, a ninja can’t — can’t get creative,” Kai replies, through half-gritted teeth. Lloyd doesn’t say anything, but Kai rolls his eyes, continuing. “Fine. When I was younger, I ah…might’ve taken a few dance classes. For Nya! ‘Cause I couldn’t let her go alone, y’know, but they were — they were kinda fun, I guess, and maybe they slip into fighting, sometimes.” His cheeks darken, and Lloyd bites back a quiet laugh.

“Nothing like Cole, obviously, ‘cause he’s an actual dancer, but — that’s where I got it from.” He pins Lloyd with a glare, that’s somewhat dimmed by the scrunched expression of pain on his face. “Tell anyone and you’re dead though, okay?”

Lloyd hums his agreement, too focused on the stitches to reply immediately. After a moment, though, he speaks up again. “I did some ballet, when I was little.”

“No way,” Kai says, sounding delighted.

“Yeah, way,” Lloyd says. “I’ve heard from a very reliable source that dancing backgrounds are useful, with ninja stuff.”

“Very reliable meaning your uncle,” Kai grins.

Lloyd shrugs. “Maybe,” he half-smiles. Kai suddenly sucks in another pained breath, but to Lloyd’s relief, it’s likely the last one. He finishes off the stitches with a well-practiced hand, snapping the end of the thread and exhaling in relief.

“There. All done.”

Kai’s eyes widen. “Seriously, already?” He glances down at his arm, his other hand moving up to touch the stitches. Lloyd smacks it away, glaring at him.

“Don’t touch. You still have to watch out for infection. I’ll text you instructions for taking care of it, and everything. Just don’t do anything, ah…”

“No ninja-ing?” Kai finishes for him, crestfallen.

“Probably a good idea,” Lloyd says, apologetic. “But it’s not too bad. Shouldn’t take long, and you can be out, uh, ninja-ing again."

Kai is quiet for a moment, regarding his stitches. Then he turns to Lloyd, who is immediately staggered at the bright smile that stretches across his face.

“Cool. Thanks, Lloyd. You’re good at this.”

Lloyd can’t answer, his throat burning. He forces the welling moisture back, looking away. Kai’s only hurt for him, and that is layered with so much more meaning than Lloyd can comprehend right now.

“No problem,” Lloyd mutters, focusing instead on the voices outside his door in an attempt to find footing again. He can hear his mom laughing at something Nya’s said, open and relaxed in a way his mom rarely is. Lloyd’s heart twists into knots.

He doesn’t deserve them, any of them. Not really.

If Kai reminds Lloyd of the sun, then the rest of the team reminds him of stars. All bright and shining, bursting with warmth in their own way. Maybe not quite at the blazing heat that Kai does, but Nya is a north star if Lloyd’s ever needed one. Jay’s a blinking constellation, scattered stars that form a complex whole much larger than you’d thought. Cole’s the kind of star you see first pop up over the horizon, blending with the oranges and purples of the sunset, like a painting you’d see in soft watercolors. Zane’s the early-morning kind of star, the ones that stay stubbornly after the night’s left, dotting the pale morning with a calm steadiness.

Lloyd would be a planet, he supposes, caught in faithful orbit around the five people who have somehow, for some reason, given him a chance. It’d be generous, though. No, Lloyd is content just to be a moon — with no light of his own, reflecting only the brilliance others give him the best he can.

Kai’s finger taps the edge of his forehead, snapping Lloyd from his thoughts, and he blinks in confusion.

“Lost you there, again,” Kai asks, words mangled through a yawn. “Where’d you go?”

Lloyd shakes his head, turning his attention back to the bloodied thread leftover in his hands. His stomach turns, and he quickly sets it aside. “Just thinking.” He pauses, momentarily lost for words. He settles for jerking his head toward the window, where the smoke trailing from their hard-won battle is still visible against the dark sky, and gives Kai a wry smile. “How much do you wanna bet the cheerleading team comes up with a new song tomorrow?”

It’s been an inside joke for them, the ridiculous songs Chen and his gang keep coming up with to throw at Lloyd, and normally it gets a laugh from Kai. This time, though, Kai is silent, his eyes searching as he stares at Lloyd. Lloyd shifts under the attention, caught off-guard again. He doesn’t know what kind of look this is, that Kai’s giving him.

“They shouldn’t talk about you like that,” Kai finally says. His voice is quiet, but Lloyd can spot the brewing anger in it. Kai’s always got anger to spare.

“Sticks and stones, remember?” Lloyd shakes his head. He’s learned, after a while, that anger changes nothing. “Words will never hurt me.”

“Words hurt when people are throwing sticks and stones at you while they yell about your dad,” Kai grumbles.

“No one’s thrown rocks since second grade, actually.”

“Hm.” Kai’s tone is a mix of thinly withheld anger and mild amusement. Lloyd tilts his head, confused, and Kai gives a huff, anger tugging loose.

“Y’know, people say that if kids throw rocks at you in second grade, it means they’ve got a crush on you.”

Lloyd knows well enough it’s a joke, but he flushes red anyways, heat spreading across his cheeks. “Yeah, sure,” he stammers. Kai laughs at his reaction, though, the odd kind of anger departing, and Lloyd feels he’s found his footing again.

They’re quiet as Lloyd finishes cleaning up the medical supplies, Kai nodding sleepily on his bed while Lloyd carefully washes the needle in the bathroom sink. Maybe he can convince his mom to let Kai spend the night, he thinks. Jay and Nya , too — their apartment isn’t very big, but it’s awfully late to make them walk home, and Lloyd is fine with taking the floor, if he needs to.

Lloyd nods to himself, resolving to ask her once he’s finished hiding the evidence. His mom’s been so thrilled about him having people over at all, he can’t see her saying no. A smile pulls at his lips as he listens to the conversation outside his door again. Jay’s rambling on now, bright and excited without any of his usual reservation. He feels a pang, wondering if Jay’s the same as him — wondering if they’re all the same, playing at muted caricatures of themselves, too fearful to let whatever lies beneath shine through.

He wonders what it means, that they’re the ones with the city in their hands, that weight on their shoulders. Wonders what it means, that Lloyd feels safer with bullets strafing the air around him and his mask on, than he ever has with it off. That Green Ninja will always, always sound better than Lloyd in his ears.

“Hey, uh.”

Lloyd starts at Kai’s voice, twisting the sink off as he turns to face him. Kai looks half asleep, but the smile he gives him is bright as ever.

“Thanks, seriously. Not just for this, but for looking out for us. You’re a good friend.”

Lloyd’s heart skips a beat, his brain latching onto the word friend and holding on tightly, tucking it somewhere safe inside his chest.

“So thanks, Lloyd,” Kai yawns, barely awake at all now, but still stubbornly clinging to the threads of awareness.

Lloyd’s got his own thank you to give back, twisted and strangled behind whatever lump’s formed in his throat, but Kai’s snoring before he gets the chance to say it. So Lloyd tugs the edge of his comforter over his friend — his friend — instead, and runs the words over in his mind again and again, like a treasured line from a book.

On second thought. Maybe Lloyd isn’t so bad. He’s only ever liked his name the way his mom says it, without any of the snapping, harsh emphasis others give it. In others’ mouths, Lloyd’s name is a curse. In his mom’s, Lloyd’s name belongs to a person.

But he thinks, maybe, he likes the way it sounds when his teammates use it, too.

#answered #ninjago #tlnm #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #slight blood tw #i just. have a lot of feelings about friends #and a lot of thoughts about how the movie!ninja put each other on pedestals #not in an inherently bad way but #i think they all think so much of each other #they forget they're human #and that leads to fallout #anyways! movie bros T-T #my fic #masterofswag213

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scaredyships · 3 years

Text

Renegades (Din Djarin x gn!Reader) | pt. III

summary: Mando picks out the planet Sorgan for the three of you to lie low on. Things get complicated, Reader gets a glimpse of how hectic Mando's life can be as a bounty for hire, and everybody is confused about feelings.

word count: 14.5k (...help)

author’s notes: Good LORD I was stuck on this for way too long. Between my creative focus being elsewhere and just being completely stuck as to how I wanted some scenes to play out, it took a lot for me to do more than a sentence or two at a time and then forget about it for days or weeks at a time.

This was also hard to write bc I am very uhhh put off by Omera and her original role as the possible love interest and I was trying very hard to remain believable/respectful about her. Cara Dune was also hard to write because of certain actions by her actor, so she's got a little bit of a lesser role.

I'm saying this now, with future chapters I am not going to be going episode-by-episode like I originally intended. I might jump around and have some "filler" things, I may completely skip over some episode happenings, I may diverge from canon here and there, but generally the outcomes will be the same as the show. I cut out the actual battle of Sorgan too bc this is already too long and I am terrible at writing action scenes. :v

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 (you are here) // ao3 link

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It had been a couple days since you’d set yourself up a space in the hold. At least, it felt like a couple days. You weren’t accustomed to space travel and dealing with the lack of solar cycles to indicate the passage of time, so it was difficult to tell exactly. It didn’t really matter, in the end, but it was still a little annoying.

In that time, you spent most of your time getting to know your way around the Razor Crest’s small layout, what panels and buttons did what, and making sure the child on board was cared for and didn’t get into anything he shouldn’t. Easier said than done, as that kid was surprisingly sneaky and far too curious. He seemed well-behaved, right up until you weren’t looking, and the next thing you knew he was doing something like rooting around in a pile of netting and getting hopelessly tangled, or trying to put things in his mouth to teethe on.

Right now, the kid was up in the cockpit with Mando. Even though you were on board to help out, Mando still seemed to feel better when he was in the same room as the kid versus you being the one supervising, and to be honest it was nice to have a break from babysitting. You had never wanted kids of your own to begin with, and though this kid wasn’t exactly your standard child, it reinforced that at the end of the day, the factor of being able to give the child back to their actual caregiver played a large role in just how tolerant you were of them.

The entire ship suddenly jerked to the side and sent you crashing into the hull wall, your shins narrowly avoiding smashing against the edge of one of the crates lying around. To say you were shaken was a bit of an understatement, despite not a moment later, the normal smooth flight pattern returning and the ship righting itself. Did Mando hit something? Was some part of the ship on the verge of breaking down completely? You did a quick sweep to make sure none of the weapons lockers were damaged and that nothing was in danger of going ogg. You swore, this man had far too much firepower on board and one day it was going to come back and bite him.

Fortunately, everything was where it should be and the only things really out of place was your now-askew space, and your frazzled self. Huffing, you sped over to the ladder and clambered up to the cockpit to see if you could find out what was going on. On your way up, you could hear the low, modulated voice of Mando speaking, very likely to the child with the tone you could pick up.

“Ready to lay low and stretch your legs for a couple months, you little womp rat? Nobody’s gonna find us there.”

“Nobody’s gonna find us where?” Your head and shoulders were poking out of the ladder hatch, arms folding over the edge as you gave the pair a pointed look. You weren’t about to let Mando decide where you were going to camp out for months without you giving some input.

The Mandalorian turning to face you with the child in his lap was almost comical, like they’d been caught doing something they weren’t expecting to be called out on. You didn’t see any sign of concern over whatever had shaken you down below, so you figured you could bring that up later.

You could see a holomap beyond Mando, though it was too far for you to make out any of the text on it. You dragged yourself the rest of the way into the cockpit, righting yourself and coming to a halt just far enough that you could read the screen.

“An outer rim planet.” He leaned aside and let you read the screen’s details. Sorgan, huh. You vaguely remember that name from when you were compiling planets for Mando back when this whole mess started. The details past that escaped you, though. You squinted as you read on. No populations outside of small settlements to speak of, no starports or anything industrial… and it was one of those planets made up of a single biome - swamp.

To be honest, you weren’t thrilled at the idea of actually camping out for so long in such a place. You were so accustomed to being in places that had somewhat larger settlements, and absolutely more tech than this planet likely had, not just for business but simple things like staying entertained. But you were even less thrilled at the fact that this was a swamp planet. You knew not all swamp planets were the same, but the simple holomap readout didn’t indicate any further details about what kind of swamps it was made up of.

You hope above all things it’s not a bog planet like Nal Hutta. Gaseous atmosphere, skies choked by sickly green clouds, brown water, hardly any land to speak of.

You turned and gave Mando a look. “No information about the biome past ‘swamp’?”

He shook his head in that slow, deliberate way of his. You exhaled through your nose.

“Not a fan of swamps?”

“You could say that.” You turned back to the screen, like staring at it might make it give up more information. Maker , you missed your database.

“How far away are we?”

“Not very, maybe an hour or two.”

You stepped back and fell unceremoniously into one of the passenger seats further back in the cockpit. The child, who had been watching you through this whole exchange, seemed to lose his interest once you sat down and went back to looking curiously around at the controls laid out in front of Mando. You could almost see the cogs turning in his head, and you started to suspect he had something to do with the ship going sideways earlier. Probably got a hold of the controls somehow.

“I guess I’ll have a better idea of where we’re going once we get a look at the planet.”

The Mandalorian nodded, and turned back to the controls to pilot you all there.

You had been closer than you anticipated, though it was still not a very short journey. Instead of going back down to the hull, you opted to stay in the passenger seat and simply wait. Jumping to hyperspace was something you had yet to get used to, but after so long of the smooth traveling with the smears of light streaking past the windscreens, you found you could relax a little and rest your eyes.

A jolt in the ship as you exited hyperspace shook you awake. Blinking and sitting up in your chair, you peered out the window at the planet taking up the view.

Deep green. Streaks of blue. White cloud cover. You breathed a sigh of relief and slumped back against the chair back.

“Acceptable?” There was a hint of amusement in Mando’s voice. You smirked at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine with it.” You actually were looking forward a little to seeing just what kind of plant life was on this planet. You could see a fair amount of tree coverage, which meant forests. It had been far too long since you’d seen proper forests, let alone been out in one. You had tried to replicate it with your plant corner back home, but it was never the same. Some time amongst real trees would do you good.

The descent had you watching out the window the whole time, surveying the landscape as its features came into view. It had its marshes and rivers, but equal amounts of coniferous forests and solid land. This place could almost pass for an arboreal biome planet in places. You spotted very few settlements on the way in, too, and what you did see looked to be the most basic of small villages.

Mando landed the Razor Crest some ways away from a small market, hidden amongst ample tree coverage. He locked down the controls and lifted the kid with one arm, removing a small silver ball from his clutches to attach to one of the levers in the array.

“I’m going to go out and find us some lodging. Wait here with the kid. Don’t let him touch anything. I’ll be back.”

He passed the child off to you, with such surety that you’d take him that he nearly dropped the little one on you before you could respond. You grabbed him with both hands in a slight panic, thinking he was about to fall, and in doing so your fingers gripped into the gloved ones already supporting his weight. Even with the barrier between skin-to-skin contact, it was awkward and had your face heating with embarrassment that you’d accidentally touched the bounty hunter. He, however, made no indication of any such reaction, damn that helmet making him unreadable. His hands withdrew once it was certain the child was in your grasp safely.

You and the child stared at each other as you held him out before you, like you weren’t sure what to do with him now. He looked back at you with a similar expression, and you swore there was a hint of some sort of mischief underneath it. Oh, he had definitely been the one to make the ship go off-kilter, no doubt now. And knowing your luck, he was going to do more of the same once Mando left. You’d already experienced him trying to eat trash despite you actively watching him, you knew he was capable of more.

Mando descended the ladder into the hold, and the sound of the ramp opening up reached the cockpit. You looked out the windscreen, watching as the Mandalorian appeared in your field of view just as the sound of the ramp closing itself back up sounded.

And that was all it took.

The child turned into a complete nightmare the instant it was clear Mando was gone. It didn’t matter what you did - first he fussed and squirmed to be let down, so you did, and the second you turned your head he had somehow managed to get into the pilot’s seat and was attempting to mess with the controls. Every time you picked him up, he fussed again, wriggling and whining loudly, and whenever you set him back down he went straight for whatever he knew he could get in trouble for. You tried to keep this up as long as you could, which proved to be a pathetic five minutes or so. It was like having an extra-smart, extra-naughty loth cat with thumbs on board.

“Okay, kid. We’re going down to the hold. You can’t accidentally start the ship up down there.” You snatched the kid up under his armpits, and though he continued fussing, it was much less, like perhaps he wanted to be in the hold. You knew that the hold had just as much, if not more, for him to get into trouble with, what with the armory down there, but it was better than possibly starting up the engines and taking off.

You awkwardly climbed down the ladder with one arm latched around the child, and once you reached the floor you set him down, hoping he’d behave a little more. How wrong you were. It was like the kid instinctively knew where the controls for the ramp were, because he made a beeline for that panel - knocking whatever he could out of the way just to accentuate his point - and reached his-far-too-short arms into the air like he could possibly reach it if he just tried hard enough. No amount of you trying to redirect his attention or picking him up to set him down elsewhere worked, he would cry and go straight back to the panel and give you repeated looks with big, desperate eyes, like you were a monster for not understanding he wanted to open the door.

“Mando told us to stay here. So we’re going to stay here until he gets back.”

It was when the loud crying started that you knew you had lost the battle.

That alone was one of your top reasons for not desiring children - you couldn’t handle the noise that came with an upset child. Not for any good parental reason like not wanting to see them sad. You genuinely couldn’t stand the screaming, it set you on edge and made you want to scream in turn. And here one was, cries bouncing off the hull walls and drilling into your eardrums with far more force than you could have imagined possible for something so small.

You rushed as fast as you could towards the control panel and slammed the button to open the ramp.

“OKAY! Okay, okay, you win, we’ll go find him.” You glared down at the kid, whose clear face and perked ears indicated the crying had all been an act. You sighed heavily. He’d only known you for maybe a few days and he already knew how to get you to do what he wanted.

“He’s not going to be happy, you know that, right.” The child just tilted his head at you, smug little face seeming to say “no, he can’t get mad at me”.

You wandered back to your area not too far off to get some of your outerwear on - your belt, your ear piece, your blaster, whatever you might need in the immediate future. The neck gaiter you loosely wore got pulled up to securely cover the lower half of your face - it made you feel more secure, somehow, when you were venturing out into strange places. You picked the kid up and awkwardly shifted him to one arm, making your way down the ramp, and hoping you wouldn’t get into too much trouble with the bounty hunter. The kid, meanwhile, happily burbled in your grasp.

With a deep sigh and a roll of your eyes, you marched out onto the planet’s surface in the direction you had seen Mando go.

You were right. Mando wasn’t happy at all.

He had been trudging along, lost in his thoughts about what kind of lodging he should be looking for now that there wasn’t just him, but you and a child to account for, but still attentive enough to his surroundings that when he heard what sounded like distant footsteps crunching through the undergrowth he paused.

It was when he heard the sounds of the child babbling and you calling out to him to wait that his wariness turned to mild panic, and he rushed towards where he could hear your voices, hand staying within reaching range of his blaster. What had happened? He told you to stay back at the Crest and yet here you were, with the child. Had you been discovered, and just barely escaped? Was the Razor Crest captured?

He came to a halt just a few feet from you, surveying you and the child for any signs of distress or damage, stance wary and ready for a fight.

“What happened?” His tone was terse, apprehensive.

You looked wryly down at the bright-eyed child in your grasp, and back up at the bounty hunter. Or rather, somewhere in the general vicinity of him, as you found you couldn’t look directly at him.

“He, uh. Was very upset at you leaving without him.”

Mando’s defensive posture deflated and he tilted his head in a way that you knew he was giving you a disbelieving look.

“I told you to stay put, and the kid throwing a fit is all it took for you to leave?” He didn’t miss the way your mouth tightened into a thin line and your brow furrowed.

“He wouldn’t stop trying to be destructive, and when I tried to move him he’d just scream and go for the ramp! Look, I told you I wasn’t the best out there with kids.” You snapped, glaring into the blank visor.

Honestly, he could tell you were disappointed in yourself for caving so easily, and he probably wouldn’t have fared much better with his own lack of experience with children. But you could have been followed, and now the ship was unattended. The child, however, looked content as ever, his plan having worked. He sighed. It was what it was at this point. At least he was still in range that could lock the ship up remotely with his vambrace controls, which he set to doing immediately.

“Come on, then.” He motioned with a hand as he turned back to the direction he had come from, cape swirling around his form dramatically. You exchanged a tired glance with the smug kid, having half a mind to set him down and make him walk the rest of the way to wherever you were going.

“You’re lucky you’re at least a little cute.”

By the time you get to civilization, you’d let the kid down to walk - just beside Mando, and you just behind the child. Two unlikely bodyguards for an equally unlikely “dignitary”. The towering trees thinned out on the edge of the small market center, man-made structures beginning to appear. The buildings were small, mostly made of wicker and wood, with very little in the way of tech. The people were equally simple, their dress and presentation reflecting their rural occupations.

With the interest of the child in mind, Mando led the three of you into a common house, the busy sounds of kitchen work and the smell of grilling food easily reaching you before you even got to the entrance. It would have been more welcoming, if it wasn’t also accompanied by nearly everyone turning their eyes to your odd trio and whispering amongst themselves. On one hand, you couldn’t completely blame them, as the three of you were like the lead-up to a bad joke come to life. But it still made you very uncomfortable, knowing without a doubt that you were being watched and discussed. You hated the feeling. You self-consciously adjusted the fabric masking your face and furrowed your brow to try and give off the most “do not approach” energy you could, glancing around at the tenants. Not many of them returned your gaze, save a few, including one woman who didn’t at all look like she was from there. Strong, wearing armor and weapons - not to the extent of the Mandalorian, of course. But you could still feel that she wasn’t to be messed with. You averted your gaze quickly.

The child, meanwhile, was bright as ever with this new place he was in. He looked around the establishment, taking in the new scenery and the light filtering in through the gaps of the woodwork with his big eyes. You in turn watched him, as Mando located a table for the three of you. You followed suit and sat at the table, and as you turned to see what the kid was up to, you noticed the little one had locked eyes with a tooka cat beneath the chair of a nearby tenant. The child was curious, but you knew enough about tooka cats to know that the way it was looking back meant it was interpreting the child’s staring as threatening to its peace. Very few animals took maintaining eye contact as anything but a challenge, and this was no different.

“Leave it alone, kid.” You murmured just loud enough that you hoped he’d hear. Your words were too late, as the cat’s lips pulled back and revealed its enormous maw of teeth in a menacing hiss. The child flinched back with a frightened noise, and next thing you knew you were snatching him up by the ruff of his oversized coat and plopping him in the seat beside you.

There was barely any time for any of you to exchange glances when a proprietor approached the table, face weathered but welcoming.

“Welcome, travelers. Can I interest you in anything?”

“Bone broth, for the little one.” Mando motioned with his hand towards the child. You suppressed giving the armored man a skeptical look for ordering the most basic of things for the kid, when it was obvious they had more substantial food in this establishment. It was fine, you told yourself, he had the final say and this wasn’t the place to call him out on his decisions.

“Oh, well, you’re in luck. I just took down a grinjer, so there’s plenty. Can I interest you in a porringer of broth as well?” Mando shook his head. The proprietor turned her gaze to you expectantly.

“No, thank you.” You put your palm out in a placating gesture. Even though the aroma of food filtered through your face covering and had a tempting quality to it, somewhere as public as this was absolutely not somewhere you’d be comfortable trying to eat at. If you could take it to go, maybe. But you had no idea where you’d even be staying at this point, or how much longer you’d be looking for such a place. No, you could wait.

The proprietor nearly began to speak again when Mando cut her off. “That one over there, when did she arrive?”

So, you hadn’t been the only one to notice the intimidating woman across the room. Well, it wasn’t that difficult, with how much she stuck out amongst the residents of the planet. You three were equally as noticeable, and you didn’t miss how the woman was still watching you, though she was trying to be discreet about it. There was wariness coming off of her, you could feel that much.

The proprietor glanced towards where Mando had indicated the strange woman to be, seemingly confused. “Uh, I’ve seen her here for the last week or so.”

Mando continued pressing her for answers she didn’t have. “What’s her business here?”

“Business?” The proprietor looked as confused as ever. “Well, there’s not much business on Sorgan, so I can’t say…” The sound of credits clinking onto the countertop reached in your ears as Mando casually tossed some onto the tabletop. You were too busy watching the woman out of your peripheral vision to pay too much attention to what he was up to. The proprietor mentioned the woman not being a log runner, and offered complimentary spotchka before she left to retrieve the order.

The moment the woman stood and moved to leave the common house, you discreetly rapped your knuckle against Mando’s vambrace. The black T of his visor turned towards you, and you vaguely twitched your fingers in the direction the woman had been moments before. “She’s leaving.” You murmured as lowly as you could so Mando could hear but others couldn’t. You didn’t get any impression of real danger or malice from her, but knowing that the three of you had prices on your heads, you had a feeling the bounty hunter would try to follow her and make sure she wasn’t about to report on your whereabouts to anyone.

Mando stood from his seat, gaze trained on the doorway to the establishment. “Stay here with the kid. I’ll be back.”

And there it was. You exhaled through your nose and looked down at the kid, comically small in his chair and watching as the beskar-clad man made his way to the exit and out of sight.

You wondered how often he went out of his way to pick possible fights like this.

The proprietor returned to the table and placed a small bowl in front of the child, breaking you from your thoughts. The complimentary bottle of spotchka made an appearance, too, but you didn’t pay much mind to it. Alcohol was never something you liked, between it being an acquired taste and dulling your thoughts. You still nodded appreciatively at her before she left to tend to the next table.

Before the kid could finish picking up his bowl, the faintest of sounds reached your ears. While you normally wouldn’t pay much mind to such things in a public place, there was some notion in your mind that it was the buckethead getting into a fight with the woman from earlier. You looked over at your tiny companion, who looked up at you over the brim of his bowl and towards the doorway Mando had left through moments earlier.

“He doesn’t need our help, we’ll just get in the way.”

The kid seemed to take that as a challenge, and hopped down from his seat and began to toddle off.

“Hey, no, we are not going out there-” You jumped up and tried to herd him back towards the table, and you almost succeeded, but the little green thing was surprisingly determined and avoided your awkward movements, both of you caught up in a ridiculous dance. The tenants were watching you and your face heated with embarrassment. You finally scooped up the rapscallion with one arm, narrowly avoiding some of the broth sloshing from his bowl and onto the floor.

“Fine, we’ll go see what’s going on. Just stop trying to run off on me.” You pointed meaningfully at the kid with your index finger, peering into those big dark eyes and hoping he actually listened. He looked back at you with those big bright eyes and perked ears in a way that somehow told you he understood.

You carefully set him back on the ground. “Stay close.”

Exiting the establishment and turning the corner was as far as you needed to go to see just what you suspected - Mando and the woman scrabbling to get the upper hand against the other. It was almost comical, in a way, even though blasters were involved and the situation could very well turn dangerous.

And it nearly did just that when the two fell on the ground with blasters pointed at each other’s heads - causing you to pull your own blaster from its holster - except everything was interrupted by a very loud slurp from the child as he watched from beside you, bowl of broth clutched tightly. The slow turns of their heads and prolonged look from both of them was enough of an announcement of a stalemate as any. You snorted and shook your head slightly at the scene.

“I take it you don’t actually want to kill each other, then.” You slightly lowered your blaster from where it was aimed at the woman. You didn’t miss the way Mando paused in a way that you imagined he was rolling his eyes under his helmet. He turned his attention back to the woman he was still vaguely pointing his blaster at.

“Would you like some soup?”

You all returned to the table you’d had back in the common house. The woman - named Cara Dune, you learned - told you her story. She was a former shock trooper for the former Rebel Alliance working on Endor, with no additional support, and as soon as the ex-Imperials were gone the politics got out of hand and she found herself working to “keep the peace”. Beating rioters and favoring delegates wasn’t what she’d signed up for, so she left, and now had a price of her own for desertion. She recognized Mando as being part of the Guild and suspected he’d come looking for her. She kept glancing curiously at you throughout her explanation, like she wasn’t sure what to make of you tagging around with a Mandalorian bounty hunter and why he was even letting it happen. Sure, the child was an equally puzzling factor, but she seemed to sense he was a touchy subject.

She eventually turned to you after her explanation was finished. “So what’s your story?”

You shrugged, idly adjusting one of your wrist pieces. “He got my house blown up and put me on a wanted list, so this is his way of dealing with the guilt.”

Cara visibly bites back a laugh and tries to hide behind her own cup of broth. You glance over at your companion, whose stiff posture tells you he’s not sure how to react, but he’s definitely embarrassed to some degree.

The ex-trooper downs the last of her broth, and stands from the table. “Well, this has been a real treat. But unless you wanna go another round, one of us is gonna have to move on, and I was here first.” She gives you all a curt nod, and walks away.

Mando leans back in his own chair and looks between you and the kid, who’s working on his second helping of broth. “Well, looks like this planet’s taken.”

The walk back to the Razor Crest was a somber one for you. Now that you had spent some time on the surface, you’d actually taken a bit of a liking to the place. But Mando was right - as remote as this planet was, it could likely only handle one fugitive at a time. Looked like it was back to the ship directory to root through whatever systems it could access. You tried not to let your mind wander off to mourn your lost database again. This was exactly why you compiled lists of multiple options, in case something like this happened and one of those choices fell through.

A tug on your pant leg dragged you from your mulling. You looked down and were met with the concerned face of the child looking back up at you.

“I’m okay, don’t worry about me.” The kid burbled quietly at you in response. That seemed to catch Mando’s attention, as he was now looking questioningly back at you.

“Something wrong?”

You exhaled through your nose, trying to come up with a brief answer that wasn’t too revealing. You weren’t big on talking about your feelings, and you got the impression that neither was Mando, so between the two of you it would be better if it was kept to a minimum.

“Feeling a little useless on the front of hunting for a planet, that’s all.” It was the first time you’d felt this useless in a very long time, to be honest, but you weren’t about to let that part out.

Mando turned back to continue the trek back to the Razor Crest. “We’ll figure something out.” His tone was superficially dull, but you could tell he was trying in his own way to sound reassuring. That counted for something.

Once you made it back to the Crest, which was safe and sound amongst the trees, the two of you got to work - the Mandalorian using the dying daylight to look over the ship for maintenance, while you took up the task of sifting through the planetary database for your next options. Originally Mando wanted you to take the child up with you so he’d be better contained, but after a pitiful look from those big, dark eyes, it was over and decided that he’d watch him. The “watching” very quickly turned into “put the kid to bed”, thank the maker.

It felt like you’d had barely any time to really start your search when you saw what looked like lights on the ground from your view in the cockpit. You slowly stood, watching the lights as they drew nearer. That couldn’t be anything good.

You clambered your way down the ladder and into the hold just as whoever it was pulled up. It was a small cargo sled, one that barely seemed to be holding itself together, with two men of seemingly modest origins on it. Mando wasn’t the least bit concerned about it, as he continued his repairs and ignore them as they tried to get his attention.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Mando didn’t stop working. “There something I can help you with?”

You slowly made your way towards the ramp, taking care to accentuate the sound of your boots hitting the floor and make your presence known, Mando could take care of himself, but if they knew you were here they were less likely to try anything than if he were alone. You shot them a warning glare when they glanced at you, but watching their already-anxious expressions deepen almost made you regret doing so.

“Uh… yeah… raiders.” “We have money.”

You raised an eyebrow at them.

“You think I’m some kind of mercenary?” Mando still made no indication he was going to stop his work for them.

That was enough to get them stammering. First about how they’d read about Mandalorians, and how they thought he was one based on his armor, and if half of what they read was true then they could recruit him for help. One emphasized again, that they had money.

“How much?” Mando had paused his working, turning more attention to these strangers.

“Everything we have, sir. Our whole harvest was stolen.”

“Krill… We’re… krill farmers.” “We brew spotchka. Our whole village chipped in.”

You don’t know what else you were expecting from locals of the planet, but the coin purse one of the men held up as proof of payment was sad to say the least. Krill farming and spotchka brewing didn’t strike you as a very lucrative business anyways, but if that was all they could muster…?

“It’s not enough.” And there was Mando, confirming your suspicions about what his rates were. You didn’t recall him being picky about his bounty, but thinking back, he did go for higher bounties more often than not. It looked like he still held onto that standard despite no longer being part of the Guild. Hell, if you were going by your own rates, what they appeared to have on hand wouldn’t even cover half of your cheapest services.

Mando finished what he’d been doing and made his way up the ramp towards you. The men following him up the ramp was unexpected, but not frightening. They were desperate, and you were getting a better sense of just how much.

“Are you sure? You don’t even know what the job is.” One of them tried to look to you for support. You stared back apprehensively.

“I know it’s not enough. Good luck.” Mando brushed past you, using your form as a barrier between him and the strangers as he retreated further into the hold.

“This is everything we have! We’ll give you more after the next harvest!” You stayed where you were, crossing your arms and staring the men down. You knew you should feel bad for them and try to convince Mando to do something, but with the last time you extended help ending with your entire life up to that point being destroyed, you were too wary to do so.

The two men looked between each other and your standoffish presence. Defeated, they slowly turned to return to their sled, talking to each other as they did.

“Took us the whole day to get here. Now we have to ride back with no protection to the middle of nowhere.”

Mando had only made it a few feet past you by then, so he was definitely within earshot of their conversation. He stopped and turned on his heel, coming up behind you and stopping just behind your shoulder. It took everything in your power to appear unbothered by just how close he stood.

“Where do you live?”

The men paused, turning back to look at the man that had just dismissed them.

“A farm, weren’t you listening? We’re farmers.” The hurt was apparent in the man’s voice.

“In the middle of nowhere.”

“…yes?” The confusion was palpable. You knew where this was going and you weren’t sure you liked it.

“You have lodging?”

The men started to realize where this was going, too, and jumped to provide answers he wanted to hear.

“Yes, absolutely.” Mando briefly glanced at you, as if he was about to ask what you thought. Unfortunately for you, that never happened and he made the decision on his own.

“Good.” Mando motioned to them. “Come up and help.” He motioned to you as well, and began pulling out cargo crates to have them start loading.

You approached the man, once the other men had carried one of the crates far enough that they’re out of hearing range.

“Mando, I don’t know about this. Middle of nowhere or not, Dune’s right, this planet can’t handle more than one fugitive at a time.”

Mando continued moving crates to the ramp. “If it took them all day to get here, they’ll be isolated enough.”

“That kind of distance from civilization, however small, hasn’t stopped bounty hunters before. You of all people know that.” You glared into the T-shape of his visor. You also knew that all it took was enough time for word to get out about sighting a certain beskar-clad Mandalorian traveling with a green child to reach interested ears. For all you knew, it could be happening right now.

Mando stopped his actions to turn and face you fully.

“We can always move on after the job if it doesn’t seem right.”

You sighed heavily through your nose. That seemed to be him trying to tell you he wasn’t about to change his mind. He had been doing this longer than you, you supposed. You glanced towards the closed door of his bunk, where the child was sleeping.

“…fine. But I’ll hold you to that.”

You briskly moved to where your makeshift corner was and started gathering up your own things for whatever sort of stay you were in for. Behind you, you heard Mando exchange a few more words with the men as they loaded the last of the cargo he’d pushed on them onto the sled.

His heavy footsteps approached you. “I’m going back into town for a while.” You turned, and noticed the pouch of credits that one of the men had shown you earlier clutched in his hand. “Stay here to keep an eye on them and the kid. I’ll be back.”

You stared at him for a moment, then nodded slightly. “At least he’s not awake to make me come chasing after you this time.”

You swore you heard a slight snort from beneath that helmet.

He’d returned some time later with Cara Dune in tow, and after rousing the kid the four of you joined the two men on their journey back to their village. The cargo sled, thank the maker, was the only part of the ride, no connections made with another transport like a boat like you were fearing. You didn’t like boats much, the swaying made you anxious. Five people made it a little crowded and awkward, and try as you might to sit as far as you could on some strapped-down cargo, to try and preserve some sense of personal space, you found yourself nearly falling off one too many times.

“That’s a good way to fall off and get left behind.”

You narrowed your eyes as you stared at the beskar-clad man that had basically just talked to you like a parent.

“It’s fine. I don’t want to get in anyone’s way.”

The way he tilted his head was enough for you to practically see the skeptical look he was no doubt wearing on his hidden face. The kid, sitting beside him, watched you intently.

“Nobody’s doing anything but waiting out the ride.” He pointed to a spot on the cargo just in front of him, where there was definitely enough room for you to fit, though it meant if you tried to stretch your legs out they’d be right alongside his. Clearly, he didn’t care about that if he was doing this.

You stared at the spot like it was a trap. Almost as if to prove a point, the sled went over a particularly pronounced piece of terrain and jostled you. You very nearly fell just like Mando had said you would. The only thing that kept you from going completely overboard was your grip on the cargo’s ties, but you still flopped embarrassingly around. You saw the man’s head tilt to the side as if to say “see?”

Defeated and embarrassed, you clambered down into the open area. Thank the maker Cara Dune had decided to try and get some sleep earlier, and the two farmers transporting you were busy navigating. You didn’t think you could handle having them involved in this, admittedly silly, exchange. You kept your gaze down, not daring to even look up at the Mandalorian. The kid, however, earned himself something between a glare and a smirk when you heard a small giggle come from his direction.

You drew your legs up into your new space, both to keep from invading even more of Mando’s space, and to keep out of the child’s space as well. Mando could handle an accidental kick if you absent-mindedly shuffled; the little green one probably wouldn’t fare so well.

Once you’d settled, you leaned back onto the cargo packed behind you and tried to get as comfortable as you could manage. Which wasn’t much. Mando, however, seemed capable of doing it, as he slowly fell backwards and folded his arms behind his head. You didn’t realize how broad he was until now, seeing up close how much space he took up just by doing that. And all over again, you felt like you were in his space, and needed to get out of it out of respect. But there was nowhere to go.

You had to snort to yourself when the child mimicked the bounty hunter and tipped backwards onto his much-softer surroundings, peering up at the dark sky with equally dark eyes. At least he was content to do that.

The sled ride stretched on for the duration of the night and into the morning, the farmers switching shifts partway through. You’d never really fallen asleep all the way, just dozed in the same position you took when you initially settled in. Your eyes had closed, and you became somewhat less aware of your surroundings, but the slightest of unusual sounds or movements still drew enough attention that you’d crack an eye open to see what was happening. All through the hours of darkness and through the light breaking over the land. So when the sled began to approach the village, you could hear it. The sounds of people working, distant voices. Opening your eyes and pushing yourself upright, you turned to look up ahead. In the distance you could see the beginnings of some sort of settlement.

You shifted your attention to the others on the sled. Cara Dune was still sleeping, though you didn’t know how. Mando and the child seemed to be out, as well. It was harder to tell with the bounty hunter because of his helmet, but the way he laid there was convincing.

Reaching over, you lightly grabbed one of the child’s clawed feet and shook it to get his attention.

“Get up, kiddo.”

He blinked awake, eyes squinting in the morning light and mouth working to remedy having gone dry while he slept with it open the night before. His big eyes shifted around to look for his Mandalorian guardian, body relaxing once he located him.

You weren’t going to try and use touch to see if he was awake, though. That could get you stabbed or shot, what with the combination of his reflexes and waking up in a strange place.

“Mando.” You raised your voice, hoping volume alone would do the trick. Fortunately for you, it did. The man shifted and groaned like he had just come alive, his helmet shifted ever so slightly and you could tell he was looking at you.

“We’re there.”

The armored man slowly drew himself upright into a sitting position. As much as he’d tried to get comfortable, he knew he’d be fighting with a back ache for a while after sleeping like he had. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t already dealt with before, with his longer bounty hunts taking him far from his ship and civilization and requiring him to put comfort to the wayside. You, however, had probably not had to relegate yourself to such circumstances. You looked like you hadn’t actually slept, bags present beneath your eyes and a subtle, narrow-eyed scowl he hadn’t seen before on your face. You probably didn’t even know it was there.

The approach to the village was quickly noticed by the villagers, and before you knew it there was a crowd forming to welcome you.

And a lot of them were children.

You could see and hear them immediately. You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled through your nose for a moment to steel yourself, both for the crowd and the large percentage of it being so young. You hadn’t even had a chance to really get used to the green child you were tasked with helping out with. And these kids could talk .

The sled came to a stop, the slight jarring motion shaking Cara Dune awake. She looked around, mind working to remember the circumstances that landed her in a strange vehicle with equally strange company.

The first thing the children of the crowd did, was fixate on the child companion of yours in the sled. They were all murmuring and giggling amongst themselves, and the kid looked back at them with equally curious intent. None of you had any idea when he was last around anyone of his mentation.

“Looks like they’re happy to see us.” You heard Mando’s voice crackle through his voice modulator. Cara Dune smiled, but all you could do was blink tiredly. You weren’t ready for this.

One of the children, a girl, broke away from the crowd and got closer to the smaller, green child, greeting him personally. You watched the interaction carefully. She seemed to notice, as she quickly made eye contact and ducked away back into the safety of the other village children.

With that, everyone disembarked the sled and began unloading cargo. You slowly rose from your spot, knees protesting from staying folded for so long and making you grit your teeth. You grabbed the pack you’d brought with you, slinging it over your shoulder and hobbling off of the sled to join the others, who were carrying their respective luggage. The child had been surrounded by the village kids, the curiosity on both sides still strong and outweighing the apprehension of the strangers with him.

It was time to be shown where you’d be staying, though. Without any words exchanged, Mando shuffled over to gather up the child, kids scattering, and you, Cara Dune, and he were led to your accommodations.

The village was modest, but cozy. The huts all had a distinct charm to them, with the same woven look as the common house, and reminding you of fishing baskets. Smoke rose from some, and in the distance you could make out man-made ponds where they likely farmed their krill.

You were all led to what appeared to be a building other than a hut. There’s a woman there, apparently putting the last touches on preparing it for guests. When she sees you approaching, she stops fussing with the blinds and turns to face you. You don’t miss how she’s focused in on the Mandalorian, with some sense of hesitation, like she wasn’t anticipating how meeting a Mandalorian in person would be. You couldn’t blame her, honestly.

“Please, come in.” You let Mando lead, watching him walk in and put his cargo down onto the floor. The woman turned and seemed mildly surprised when you entered as well, like she hadn’t really seen you before when you made your approach. Again, you couldn’t blame her - if you’d never met a Mandalorian before, it would be hard to notice anything else. That, and it made sense that should word get out in the village about a Mandalorian arriving, the last thing anyone would talk about would be his companions.

“I apologize… I didn’t realize how many guests there would be.” She glances briefly at you and the child individually. You began to feel guilty about being there at all. Of the adults that were there, you were by far the least useful for the job involving the raiders, and of the resources available for guests you felt like it would be better to distribute them amongst the others before you. The child, too, you felt deserved things before you did. You didn’t miss him looking up at you with his big dark eyes, as if he could sense your discomfort.

“Is, uh, there anywhere else available—“

“This will be fine.”

You give the beskar-clad man a perplexed look when he cuts you off. You were attempting to give the man his space back, surely he would like that better than having you hole up in the same small building?

“It’s not any different from the ship. We’ll make do.” He was looking back at you through that dark visor as if he had heard your thoughts. You blinked.

“Are you sure?”

The curt nod he gave you told you the conversation was over. Well… as long as he was okay with it.

The woman took that as her cue that she could speak again. “I’ve stacked some blankets over there, I can get more should you need them.” She indicated the area she meant. You nodded appreciatively at her.

There’s a very slight sound from the doorway, and both you and Mando turn to see the girl from before that had been talking to the child. She attempted to hide behind the doorframe, bashful about being noticed, but the woman goes to gently pull her back into sight and gently hold her to her side.

“This is my daughter Winta. We don’t get a lot of visitors around here, she’s not used to strangers.” That explains the extra feeling of being watched you’d felt on top of the village at large watching you, this girl must’ve followed along. The woman turned to face her daughter. “This nice man and his friends are going to help protect us from the bad ones.”

Winta looked shyly at you and Mando, and politely whispered a thank you. The woman took her daughter by the hand, leading her outside. “Come on, Winta, let’s give our guests some space.”

Just like that, you were left alone with your usual companions.

You glanced around, seeing that it was essentially just one open room. That wouldn’t do. Whatever Mando told you, you knew he would appreciate having a space to himself. You, also, would appreciate some semblance of privacy.

Speaking of Mando, he hadn’t moved to unpack at all, he continued to stand in place as he tried to process what he’d gotten himself into. He’d done plenty of jobs, with plenty of clients, but he wasn’t at all used to being treated like a “nice man”, as the woman had put it. He didn’t know how he was supposed to fee about it.

His buffering was briefly interrupted when you pushed past him into the barn, and began to root through the blankets that had been left and other supplies that had been pushed off to the side to make space.

“I’m going to build some sort of divide for the room. To at least make it feel like there are two rooms instead of one.” You began draping things over your shoulders and arms as you found them, and looking up at the ceiling and the walls to see what you had to work with. Part of him wanted to tell you to just sit down for now, since he could tell you weren't rested at all from the night before. But he also felt like he wouldn’t be able to stop you from your current activity until you’d finished it. He resigned himself to getting his cargo unpacked.

What he doesn’t know, is you were also trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. You had noticed how the woman had briefly paused in the doorway as she left to look back - at Mando, and only Mando. You didn’t know why, but something about it bothered you. Was it a look of apprehension and were you offended on his behalf? No, that wasn’t it. It was some other expression that was subtle and layered and happened too fast for you to read. But it still bothered you. You tried to brush it aside and get to working on your new project instead.

Before long you had constructed a simple set of walls from various things you’d found around - you’d taken some sheets from the pile of blankets, and used them in conjunction with some netting and poles to fix them to the walls and ceilings similar to what you had done with your space back on the Razor Crest. A crib had been provided for the child, and you moved that onto the “half” that you’d designated Mando’s space - the larger section, and the one with the window. Your “half” was more like your “third” of the bar’s interior. Really, you didn’t mind. Mando had been busy unpacking and reconvening with Cara Dune to offer any input until it was done, anyways.

Later in the day, you’d more or less finished unpacking what little you’d brought, and Mando was tending to his rifle. You sat on a crate, idly fussing with the settings on your blaster, musing to yourself if you could possibly bother the bounty hunter in the future for something more substantial.

“Knock, knock.”

The woman from earlier stood at the door with a tray of a few plates of food in hand, her daughter in tow. You could see them, but their attention was turned to Mando and the child, who was standing in his crib. “Come in.” Mando’s voice sounded from beyond the divide in the room.

The woman entered, setting the tray down on a nearby surface and picking up a plate from it. Winta stepped forwards shyly, asking if she could feed the child. Mando wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but he didn’t see a problem with it. “Sure.”

You watched from just around the edge of the divide, as the girl first knelt to feed the child, and then asked if she could play with him. Mando seemed just as fond of dealing with kids as you, hearing his sigh and flat “sure” in response. You smirked at that.

Once Mando had set the child on the ground, Winta immediately darted out the doorway with the child in tow. Mando started to protest, but the woman held him back. You didn’t know why, it was such a simple thing and she was coming from a place of experience where he had none, but for some reason… it made you bristle slightly. You felt like she was overstepping her bounds somehow. You shook your head briefly. She didn’t know any better, it was fine.

The woman then reached for one of the plates of food, to set on a surface closer to where Mando had been maintaining his rifle. “I brought you some food, I noticed you didn’t eat out there. I’ll leave it here for when I go.” Mando awkwardly thanked her, and moved to turn away.

You were hoping she would leave, then, but she didn’t. Instead, she asked if she could ask Mando a question. With his approval, she continued.

“How long has it been since you’ve taken that off?”

Oh, the helmet question. That was bound to happen sooner or later, honestly. You hoped she didn’t say anything too intrusive or insensitive.

“Yesterday.”

“I mean in front of someone else.”

The air felt heavy. You couldn’t quite see from your position where he was looking, but you saw him motion through the window towards what might have been the child and Winta, and other children based on the sounds of play you could hear.

“I wasn’t much older than they are.”

The woman sounded almost horrified that he hadn’t shown his face to anyone since then. The bounty hunter protested, saying that after his parents had been killed, the Mandalorians had taken him in and cared for him as their own.

It’s not like you knew what his past was, or what you expected it to be, but hearing it like this was like a punch to the gut. It was a horrible thing for him to have gone through at all, let alone as a child. You arguably had only just been getting to know him, but the fact that this woman he had never met before was able to get this fact out of him at all, let alone such a personal fact, stung. He had told you earlier that he’d trusted you. That should’ve been enough, and should’ve stopped you from having your thoughts run loose like they were.

“...I’m sorry.” The woman sounded genuinely sad.

“This is the way.”

“Let us know if there’s anything you need.”

Finally, she left. It did not escape you, though, that she hadn’t stopped to see if you had been there to let you know that she had brought you some food, as well, as you also had not left to go get food since arriving. That hurt a little bit, but with the way the prior exchange had gone it probably just slipped her mind. It wasn’t her fault. She was being a good host, she still brought it, didn’t she? You could swear, though, that she seemed to feel some sort of draw towards the bounty hunter and was acting on it in small ways. And you could not figure out why it bothered you.

Once she had left completely, you quietly crept out from behind the divide to retrieve your own plate. Mando was still standing before the window, watching the kids playing with the child. The woman now approached the crowd, no doubt to supervise and make sure they weren’t being too rough. You felt his eyes turn to you slightly.

“I uh… I’m sorry. About what happened in your past. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t not hear that part.”

Mando inclined his head for a moment, and then looked back up at you. “It wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have told you if it had come up.”

That lifted your mood a bit. Plate in hand, you wandered over to stand before the window, not too close but beside where Mando stood, to watch the kids.

“Looks like he’s having fun.” Mando hummed in agreement, arms folded.

You don’t notice, but the Mandalorian had turned his head ever so slightly to look at you without giving away that that’s what he was doing. He’s usually not the best at reading people, but he could tell that something about the interaction he had just had with the woman had upset you somehow - he also had not missed how she had left after speaking with him and hadn’t tried to see if you were around to speak to you, as well. This was a different kind of upset than what he had seen when you were first on his ship, after your home had been destroyed. He didn’t like it then, and he didn’t like this now. He realized didn’t like seeing you upset, or to be linked to the reason you were upset.

The two of you stood there for a few more moments, watching the villagers and the child play. You cleared your throat.

“Well, I still don’t like eating around others. I’m going to my ‘room’.” Mando felt a small smile flicker on his face at that, as you left and went back to your area.

Once you were there, you had been about to pick up a piece of the food when you heard the tell-tale sound of Mando’s helmet being removed. You didn’t know if it was the closer proximity or the conversation that had just happened, but you retreated even further into your area until you were as far away as possible, like somehow even being too close while his helmet was off was just as bad as seeing his face.

The job turned out to be much more complicated than any of you had thought. Surveying the woods showed that the raiders were in possession of an Imperial AT-ST, a formidable weapon to have even against trained troops, let alone a defenseless krill farm. Cara Dune was especially off-put by it, having seen the mech in action and barely escaping to tell the tale. Mando, blunt as ever, tried to tell the village’s occupants to just leave and find another place on the planet to farm, but that went over horribly - everyone was angry, saying that he’d agreed to the job and that he should keep to it, that they had lived there for generations and it took so long to even get the farm established, and so on. They insisted they could be taught to fight and help take on the raiders, stubborn in not wanting to leave their homes. Somehow, their desperation won over the bounty hunter and ex-shock trooper, and it was decided that the entire village of twenty-odd people would follow Cara Dune’s instructions to modify the village grounds into a battleground to take down the machine, and the raiders in turn.

The biggest hurdle was teaching the villagers how to fight to begin with. Nobody knew how to deal with hand-to-hand combat. None of them - except the woman, whose name was Omera - knew how to fire a blaster.

That also meant that Mando’s entire arsenal he’d brought along with him would be put to use arming everyone.

While Cara Dune was working with melee training her half of the adults, Mando was overseeing the target practice. You were more familiar with firing a blaster than you were with physical fighting, so you were attempting to help in that department, as well. You had certainly fired off your fair share of one-in-a-million hits in the times you’d even had to use your blaster, but you had no idea how you were able to do it. It was just… an instinct, somehow, that kicked in right at the moment it was needed, and would vanish just as quickly before you could even try to comprehend it. Still, though, you could try.

They were terrible.

Shots were flying and only a small fraction were landing anywhere, and of those, even less were hitting their intended targets. Except for Omera. Every shot she fired landed square in the middle of her target, one after the other. You could see Mando watching her closely, nodding when she turned to look expectantly at him with a slight smile.

It makes you grit your teeth and you don’t know why. He’s allowed to be impressed by someone from a backwater planet being good with a blaster. He was allowed to be impressed by her tenacity to defend her village. He was allowed… and whatever this strange feeling was that you had, wasn’t allowed to get in the way. That was up to him.

You had been walking between the villagers, giving them pointers on how to better aim, but once you’d noticed what you had with the widow and Mando, something shifted in you. And unbeknownst to you, Mando was watching you, probably more than he had been watching Omera. Your eerie accuracy with your own blaster when you fired off and hit the targets, the way you went from person to person to curtly correct their poise, the way your eyes flashed as you stood back and looked from trainee to trainee with a calculating, concentrated look to determine who needed fixing where. This was a new side of you he hadn’t seen. It was intimidating… but in a good way. He caught himself being confused by his own thoughts, and reminded himself sternly that he needed to concentrate on training everyone and getting things ready.

That night, the plan would be executed. Luring the raiders out, having the villagers go hand-to-hand with the raiders while Mando and Cara Dune took care of downing the AT-ST. You hoped it would work.

In the weeks following the successful defeat of the raiders and destruction of their AT-ST, you stayed put in the village. You and Mando and the kid didn't have anywhere better to be, and Mando still stood by it being a good place for waiting out the hunt going on for the kid. Unlike Mando, though, you didn't feel completely safe. You still felt like it was only a matter of time before someone came looking. The raiders didn't all get killed, and though they probably hadn't laid eyes on the child, let alone the village's children in general, it would have been difficult for them to miss the beskar-clad man that they went up against. Word was going to get out.

Mando wasn't convinced. There was nothing besides your sense of unease to indicate that sort of thing would happen, and he needed more substance than that to act. And so, you were stuck there for the time being.

So you tried to make do with living during that time.

Mando spent his time being the quiet watchman of the village, keeping his weapons he'd brought along in top condition just in case. It couldn't hurt to stay vigilant. And it helped you be more at ease to know he hadn't completely shrugged off the possibility of danger.

And when he wasn't cleaning his weapons for the millionth time, or making sure the child wasn't getting into too much trouble with the village children, he was watching you.

He noticed the way you'd go sit out at the far edge of the village clearing, by the edge of the water beneath the shade of the trees, scribbling things in the odd flimsiplast book you'd brought along with you. He got curious one day and wandered over to where you were, making the excuse that he was patrolling the perimeter and just happened to be passing by you on his way. He got to see what it was you were doing - you were sketching the huts and ponds, as well as the trees and animals, making notes beside them. You didn't limit your note-taking to sitting out on the edge of the village, either, sometimes you stayed amongst the buildings and watched the locals and made notes about them.

There were more than a few times that the child would break away from the village kids and watch you, too, and there were times you'd tear a page out and let him scribble on it alongside you. It was endearing to watch, though he'd never admit it, how intensely focused the little one would be on mimicking you during those times. He saw you do your best to be social when the rest of the kids would inevitably crowd around the two of you and watch what you were doing, and begin asking questions. They did that to him, too, with his weapons, and he would try to tell them stories he remembered hearing as a child himself. You didn't seem to tell them stories, so much as just facts about how this or that worked, or how things are different on other planets in this or that way. They still seemed to take it in just as well.

When you weren't note-taking, or trying to avoid being swarmed by curious children, you'd be in the village kitchens, taking advantage of having proper cooking facilities outside of the makeshift space on the Razor Crest and trying out local ingredients and recipes. The child was frequently your taste-tester, and he loved every bit of it. There were times that he'd take a bite of something you'd made, and instead of downing the rest of it, he'd look around for Mando, and upon spotting him he'd hurry over with the food in hand, waving it up at him as if to say "try it". He would, of course, wait until he was in the privacy of his own space, but he'd always try it. He had to admit, though he knew the locals had been working with the ingredients for generations and were by no means bad cooks, there was something about your cooking that he liked better. He knew you'd brought along some of your own spices and that you put your own spin on things, but it was deeper than that and he didn't know why.

He notices that though you try to converse with the locals when appropriate, you frequently retreat to be in his presence and just sit quietly. It starts as you just going back to the barn and him happening to also be there, but over time it evolved into you actively seeking him out in moments where he was apart from the others, wherever that may have been. It was… nice.

It was also nice that, on some nights where neither of you could sleep, you would wind up quietly talking about this or that through the makeshift wall in the barn that divided your sleeping areas. The conversations were about mundane things, never lasted long, and were always quiet because of the sleeping child nearby. But it was a new thing for him that he found he liked. For so long he had traveled alone and in complete silence, and while there was still a degree of silence and separation between the two of you, it was different.

The villagers seemed to act like you would just stay there forever. Names were learned, bits and pieces of life stories were swapped, some degree of familiarity was established.

There was absolutely no way anyone could miss how attentive Omera had become to ensuring you all were still tended to, but especially in regards to Mando. He was civil in return, and you swear he had started to open up to her and go beyond just being polite. You, also, did your best to be civil towards her, but it was difficult for some reason. It was not your place to decide who was allowed to be friends with who, or how they responded to such actions. Not your place to feel put off by another person getting close to arguably the only person you knew beyond vague acquaintance-ship.

And this didn’t just feel like someone building a friendship, either. You did not know why it bothered you as much as it did. But here you were.

One day, you, Mando, and Cara Dune were all on the porch of the barn, lounging for lack of a better word. Cara Dune sat reclined in a chair, you on the edge of the porch, and Mando casually leaned back against the wall of the barn. He looked very relaxed and it took you a little more effort than normal not to just stare at the rare sight.

And then Omera appeared.

She had been in the barn doing some tidying up, as hosts do. As she exited, she handed a cup of spotchka to Cara Dune, who thanked her, and then she turned to Mando.

“Can I set you something in the house?” She briefly turned her vision towards you, to indicate the offer was extended to you as well, but it went right back to the bounty hunter before you could answer.

“Uh… thank you. Maybe later.” He mumbled his answer, awkward as ever. The woman looked back at you, and you shook your head to her offer, not daring to try and open your mouth. She seemed satisfied with that, and turned to watch the village children playing with the child. He’d captured a frog, and wasted no time in stuffing it into his mouth and trying to swallow it like a vine snake. The children laughed and groaned in amused disgust. The frog turned out to be too big for the little one and he spat it out, and everyone cackled as the frog hopped away, no doubt startled by nearly being eaten.

“He’s very happy here.” Omera’s voice broke the silence on the porch.

“He is.” The bounty hunter’s voice responded.

“Fits right in.” And with that, the widow walked away. You watched her leave with narrowly-disguised distaste on your face. The kid was still a target for all you knew, and that little comment implying he should continue to stay just made you realize how little they understood about the consequences that could come their way should the hunters find him. Being able to actually be a child was good, yes, but not at the expense of having another event similar to the raiders, one they wouldn’t have time to plan for.

Apparently, Cara Dune had some thoughts of her own.

“So what happens if you take that thing off?” She nodded at Mando, indicating his helmet. “They come after you and kill you?”

Your distaste turned to her next.

“No, you just can’t ever put it back on again.” Cara scoffed at his answer. She looked at you to see if you thought it was as ridiculous as she did, a smirk on her face. You narrowed your eyes at her, and her smirk faded a bit. You’d known, and you respected his cultural beliefs not to badger him like she was trying to do.

“I was gonna say, if that’s it, it wouldn’t be any trouble at all for you to just slip it off and take up living here, raising the kid and sipping spotchka.” She motioned in the direction Omera had left with her glass.

“The beautiful young widow would be more than happy to help with that.” She looked back at you. “Am I right?”

Your skin felt like it would scramble right off your body.

Somehow, hearing Cara Dune confirm that she, too, had seen Omera’s interest in Mando made it all too real in your mind. And she wouldn’t be making such comments if she didn’t think Mando had similar feelings, either.

Why did it bother you so much?

You heard your name, realizing she was actually waiting for an answer from you.

“Yeah, sure.” Your voice was quiet and clipped, a poor attempt to keep your feelings veiled. Cara Dune finally noticed your tense posture, the discomfort very apparent in the line of conversation she’d started up.

She immediately regretted her teasing about the widow. Unlike you and Mando, she was actually able to read people. Mando may have been oblivious to it, but she could see now that you were more fond of the bounty hunter than she initially thought. She’d sensed some sort of dislike towards Omera from you, with how brief you kept your interactions with her, but this made it make sense. Kriff, you were probably oblivious to it, too.

Mando’s modulated voice brought her back to the present. “You know, we raised some hell here a few weeks ago. It’s too much action for a backwater town like this. Word travels fast. You might wanna cycle the charts and move on.”

You leaned your head back, rolling your eyes. “Finally.” You’d only been trying to convince him to do that the moment you’d chased the raiders off. “I thought it was going to take bounty hunters actually showing up to get you to make that decision.”

You swiveled where you sat to look at the man pointedly. He shook his head lightly. You could almost hear the good-natured smirk under his helmet. You couldn’t help but quirk the corner of your mouth yourself.

As forward as Omera was with hinting her interest towards Mando, Cara Dune thought, you weren’t too bad of a companion choice for him, either. You might not be the worse of the two, either, as far as the dynamic between you. As long as the buckethead wasn’t alone.

She looked back to where the kids were all playing. “I wouldn’t want to be the one who’s gotta tell him that it’s time to leave.”

“I’m leaving him here.”

You and Cara Dune stared at him.

“Traveling with me… that’s no life for a kid. I did my job, he’s safe. Better chance at a life here.”

No. You weren’t going to let him decide that easily.

“Mando. Do I need to remind you that the kid is being hunted as much as you are?” He started to protest, but you continued, standing up from your seat to face him fully, crossing your arms. “And, like you said, the fight with the raiders will have drawn attention. We sure didn’t kill them all, some got away. ‘Word travels fast’.”

Mando stared back, at a loss for words, and looked to Cara Dune for backup. She only shrugged, indicating you had a point.

“...if anyone was going to come, they would have done so by now.”

You dropped your arms to your sides, an incredulous expression on your face. Really? Really?

“Mando-”

He held up his hand to stop you. Such a simple motion shocked you enough to derail your thoughts. He really wasn’t changing his mind, was he…? Was he that ready to leave the kid behind?

Was he that ready to be rid of you …?

Leaving the child here meant your current “job” would no longer exist. It meant having to figure out where to go next, how to start next.

You weren’t ready for that.

You looked down at the wood flooring of the porch. You couldn’t figure out how to argue back in a way that didn’t sound selfish. Defeated, you turned away from the beskar-clad man and faced away, looking at the children playing again.

Mando truly felt like this was the best option for the child at this point. He wasn’t anywhere near an acceptable parental figure, and per your own admission you didn’t do well with kids, either. The kid needed other kids to be around, adults that were willing and happy to raise him. You needed to be able to actually settle down somewhere you could rebuild. This tiny village, with its lack of technology, wasn’t it, and it wasn’t on his cramped ship with his stubborn self, either. You deserved better. He didn’t want to say goodbye to the kid, or to you, but it wasn’t about what he wanted.

The three of you solemnly watched the child play with the other village children.

“It’s gonna break his little heart.” Cara Dune muttered.

“He’ll get over it. We all do.”

You didn’t want to agree with him, on that last line. But he was right.

Everyone had finished packing, all that was needed was for it to be loaded onto the cargo sled. The air felt weighted, and it wasn’t from the humidity of the surrounding swamp.

For you, the air got even more oppressive when you saw Mando approach Omera and lead her slightly away from the others to speak to her. You knew he was just asking her to watch after the child. But you could see the way she was looking at him. You could see Mando fidgeting, almost shyly. You could feel your face get tingly. Why was this so hard for you? It wasn’t about you.

You couldn’t hear the exchange, but you could tell Omera was saying something back at him, and the way her expression changed, you almost felt like she was asking him to stay, too.

But then, pulling you from your wallowing in self-pity, you felt the same thing you’d felt back at your old home, just before the bounty hunters broke through and your life as you knew it ended. The intense, physical feeling of wrong, of something in your head thrashing about telling you to run. Telling you to grab the kid and run.

They were here.

You sprinted towards where the village kids were, focusing in on the child, drawing your blaster.

"Mando!”

Whatever had been happening between Mando and Omera was forgotten, the widow spinning around to see what the shouting was, and Mando falling into a defensive stance, hand going to his blaster handle.

Your timing couldn't have been better. As you skidded to your knees to grab the frightened child, the village children scattering in confusion and fear, blaster fire rang out and a scorched blast marked the earth right where he had been sitting. You ran in a crouch to hide behind the nearest barrier you could get to, in this case some of the cargo that had yet to be loaded. The child whimpered and clutched at your clothing, and you clutched him closer, blaster raised in your other hand in case you needed to peek around and return fire.

You heard chatter from the other adults, and peering around the corner of the cargo, you see Cara Dune and Mando rush off int the trees. Omera is quickly herding the children to safety. You stay where you are, slumping against the back of the cargo, knowing Mando won't let whoever's out there get away. You look down at the kid in your grasp, who is looking back up at you with those dark eyes you'd gotten used to.

"I told him it wasn't safe here."

Just as you had warned him, the shots had come from someone carrying a tracking fob for the child. Cara Dune had seen to the demise of the hunter, and the tracking fob was destroyed. If it had been a different situation, you would have been more smug about being right.

But as it currently stood, you needed to get out of there as soon as you could.

The cargo sled was fully loaded, with additional supplies beyond what you’d brought with you, and the child was seated up where he could see out. You sat close by, not wanting to chance having to make a dive for him again. You hadn’t anticipated being so protective, but here you were. The village gathered around to see you off. Cara Dune offered to escort you back, but the decision was made to completely bypass going through town and just go straight to the Razor Crest. For once, you agreed with this decision.

“Well then, until our paths cross.” the two exchanged a firm handshake. She looked back and nodded at you, and you returned it with a raised hand. It was good to know you had an ally out there now.

You’d anticipated leaving by then, but when Winta rushed forward you had to suppress a groan. You were so ready to leave behind the other kids and yet here they were again, prolonging the goodbye process. With little regard for any sense of personal space, she wrapped her arms around the child in a hug. You leaned away a little to give them room. You didn’t expect her to release the child and give you a hug, too.

“I’ll miss you so much.”

You were frozen, your mind having drawn a blank and your body unsure of what to do. It took you a few moments to regain your senses, and you awkwardly put your hands on her shoulders.

“Uh… us too.” She pulled back and gave you both a shy smile, and scampered away back to stand by her mother.

Omera smiled and nodded at you in farewell. You tried to do the same, but you couldn’t guarantee your smile looked anything other than awkward and forced. You were terrible at this.

“Thank you.”

Mando nodded at her as well, and finally, he boarded the sled, and you left the small village.

It was strange, you’d only been on the Razor Crest for a few days before the stay on Sorgan happened and took up the following few weeks of your life, but somehow the ship felt more like home than the village had.

The three of you all sat in the cockpit area of the ship, Mando at the controls, you sitting in one of the chairs with the child in your lap, you idly letting him mess with your hands.

Now that it was just you three, your curiosity was getting the better of you.

“So, Mando… what was Omera saying to you before the bounty hunter attacked?”

Mando flipped a few more switches and dials on the controls and sat back in his chair. “She was suggesting we stay, too.” You mean she was suggesting you stay, you thought to yourself.

“...if the hunter didn’t show, would you have?”

He turned to look at you. “Would you?”

You huffed. “I liked being in the trees, but… too remote for my taste. Too closely packed. Too many kids trying to see what I was doing.” Too much of Omera trying to be friendly with the Mandalorian. You didn’t say that part, though.

He turned back to face the windscreen. “If I had wanted to settle down somewhere, I would have done it years ago.” He folded his hands over his stomach. “I’m not interested in living the sedentary family life.”

Somehow hearing him say that took a huge weight off your mind. But that still didn’t answer the selfish, nagging question you still had.

“Did you like her?” You still didn’t know why you cared so much. But while your courage was up and you were on this train, you had to get it out. Mando’s head tilted in your direction slightly.

“She was… nice. But I don’t think I liked her at all the way she liked me.” He turned back to look at the expanse of space before the ship. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but he was glad that you all got out of there before he had to tell her that. He wasn’t as oblivious as some thought, he could definitely tell that the widow was harboring some kind of affection towards him. He just didn’t feel the same way back, though. He never did. Besides, even if he did, his idea of how to live was so different from hers that it just wouldn’t work. Living on a farm, having and raising kids, staying in one place? Absolutely not.

You looked down at the child in your lap, tugging on his claws that clutched your fingers, trying to hide the little smile of relief on your face. He perked his ears at you and babbled, seeming to sense you weren’t as weighed down as before.

“You could’ve been free to go start your infochanting back up somewhere, though.” You looked up, a little surprised at the slightly quieter tone to Mando’s voice.

He had come to appreciate your company, but he wasn’t about to directly admit it.

You shook your head and huffed. “Honestly? I don’t mind.”

You looked back down at the kid, gently grabbing the ends of his long ears and fussing with them, making him squeal.

“I’m kind of glad to be back on this bucket of bolts with you.”

You hadn’t made any indication of it, but Mando liked to think you were talking to him just then, and not just the child. Hearing those words stirred something in his chest, and though he couldn’t pin down what it was, he wouldn’t mind feeling it again.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #gender neutral reader #din djarin #mando #reader insert

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bangtanreadingcorner · 3 years

Text

her outlaw prince • min yoongi

genre — historical au.

plot — you're a princess, who falls for the outlaw brother of the emperor.

words — 5.8K

"I demand you let me go, I am a Princess! People will be looking for me!" You demanded, simultaneously struggling against the ropes that your hands were bound with and the hands that were holding you tightly but oddly enough not harshly or with intent to hurt. Your panicked mind didn't have time to process that or to make sense or it.

You looked around to take in everything around you, wanting to miss nothing that could help you escape later. You were in a small clearing in the forest, four medium sized tents set up all around you and you were being led to the one that stood on the far end.

"Oh, I'm sure they will." One of the two men - the taller one - holding you snickered as they took you inside the tent. You noticed it was empty.

"Why are you taking me? I have not done anything to offend you." You asked, feeling more than a little offended, not used to such treatment from anyone.

"No, but your fiance offended our leader." The other said, the shorter one - but still taller than you, and you barely resisted the urge to scoff, but you couldn't stop the look of distaste that spread on your face if you tried.

"You don't like him then?" The taller out of the two asked, a boxy grin spreading on his face.

"His Majesty and I will have a wonderful and loving marriage." You dutifully parroted what your mother told you since the moment she informed you about your upcoming marriage to the Dragon Emperor.

"You call your fiance His Majesty?" The one with the boxy grin whistled with raised eyebrows, looking thoroughly amused and you glared at him.

"I do not understand what that has to do with anything." You said, remembering all of your lessons in etiquette, turning your voice sickeningly sweet and overly polite.

"I just think it's interesting, that's all." Boxy Grin said to you, looking over to his friend, who smirked at him.

"What I find interesting," A new voice said, coming from behind you and you felt something inside of you turn into mush. The voice is deep and a little rough, and you had to tense your body in order to stop the shiver that wanted to run down your spine. "-is that you think a marriage to my brother will be loving."

You frowned at the word 'brother' but then the man stepped into your line of vision and you couldn't help the gasp that escaped your lips, eyes widening in shock because this man had the exact same face as your fiance. Sure, his hair was cut short and was ebony in colour while the Dragon Emperor's was long and blonde, but there was no mistaking the face. They even had the exact same scar!

You gaped at the man, looking very undignified, but your mind couldn't comprehend what you were seeing. The sounds you were making were unintelligible and if your mother saw you now, she'd strike your hands purple. Your blood was rushing through your veins, heart beat drumming in your head.

The world spun around you for a few seconds and then everything went black.

It was silent in the tent for a few moments as the three men stared at the unconscious woman until it was broken by an excited voice, "This means I won the bet, right?"

"Jimin." Yoongi sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Jimin pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. "What? I was the one who said she is going to faint when she sees you."

"Taehyung, take your soulmate and get him out of here."

"Yes, hyung." Taehyung laughed, nodding his head as he slung an arm over Jimin's shoulders - who muttered something about rubbing it in Jeongguk's nose - and pulled him out of the tent with him as he left.

Yoongi looked back at the unconscious form on his floor and walked to her. He picked her up and laid her on his bed. He looked at her young face, feeling a little guilty for what he's doing to someone innocent. He placated himself by reasoning that he wasn't actually planning on killing her.

He just wants his brother to pay for what he's done.

***

You regained consciousness slowly, eyelids fluttering open as the memories of what caused you to faint in the first place comes rushing back to you. Your body tensed and you sat up on the mattress, looking around and freezing all over again as your eyes landed on the stranger with the familiar face.

"You're not going to pass out again, are you?" He asked warily and you felt a little off kilter. How is it that this man has the same face as the Dragon Emperor? You remembered that he called the Dragon Emperor his brother, which probably meant that they were twins, but it made no sense. There has never, in all of your life, been mentioned that the Emperor has a brother, nevermind a twin.

"I don't know." You admitted honestly, hands fisting in the blankets that were thrown over the straw mattress. It wasn't uncomfortable, by any means, you just weren't used to it. You felt more than a little unsure. Your mind was screaming at you that this man is your kidnapper, that he could hurt you or even kill you if he wanted too. You looked at him warily, "What do you want with me?"

He smiled at you, sharp and a little dangerous, and it made your heart pound. "If you haven't figured it out yet, I've kidnapped you to lure out my brother. I've sent news that I'm willing to give you back, but only if he's coming to meet me. When he does, I'll let you do. All you have to do, is sit and wait until then."

You looked at him, jutting your chin out in defiance, acting brave and hoping he doesn't see though it. "And if I don't?"

"I have no intention of killing you, but if you try to escape, I will make your life harder." He told you matter-of-factly, a warning in his tone that you paid no mind.

"How?" You challenged, feeling that familiar urge to lash out whenever someone tells you what to do. He pulls something from behind his back and your nearly fall of the bed with shock when you see the gun.

"I've always found a gunshot to be an effective way to keep someone from running away." He mused and you felt a shiver climb up your spine, but this one was different from the one when you first heard his voice. This was one of fear.

"You wouldn't." You said with a confidence you didn't feel.

He gave you a sharp smile again, no less dangerous than the first, "Not if you don't try and escape, no, I won't."

"But it will kill me." Your voice trembled and you hated it.

"I know where to shoot to kill, and where to shoot to hurt. A well placed shot in the thigh won't kill you, but it will hurt and even incapacitate you." He told you matter of factly.

"Are you going to kill him? The Emperor, I mean." You blurted, unbelievably curious. What is going on here? What does this man want with his brother?

His eyes hardened and you didn't like it. When he answered, it was with no hesitation. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he has to pay." He answered shortly, tone of voice making it clear that this was the end of the questions. You let it go, for now. "You can sleep in here, I'll share with one of the guys for the time being. "

"Thank you." You said sincerely, lowering your head ever so slightly in gratitude towards him because he could have made you share with him, or sleep on the floor or tied you up and made you sleep outside.

He nodded, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared at you silently for a few moments. You looked away, cheeks and ears burning from the intensity, feeling nervous for some reason. His voice, low and deep, caught your attention as he spoke, just like when he entered earlier. "I'm Yoongi, by the way. Figure you'd need to know my name if we're going to spend the next few weeks around each other."

"Weeks?" You all but screeched, head snapping up to him again.

"We're about a week away from the Palace, so that's roughly how long it will take for the letter to reach my brother, add another week for his response, and you're looking at two weeks minimum. Don't worry, Jimin and Taehyung took a suitcase full of clothes for you."

"Why didn't you just leave the letter when you took me? Surely that would have saved time." You told him, a little sour, looking at him expectantly.

"Because we want them to panic a little." Yoongi said with a smirk.

You scoffed, then sighed in resignation. "Princess Y/N of the Eastern Lands."

"Nice to meet you, Princess." He said, the title sounding more mocking than anything else.

You have him an overly polite smile, "I'd say the same, but I was taught not to tell lies."

Yoongi laughed lightly, your stomach fluttering at the sound. "Aren't Princesses supposed to be well mannered?"

"I am well-mannered!" You exclaimed indignantly, rising to your feet.

"Could have fooled me." Yoongi let know over his shoulder as he left the tent.

You opened your mouth, wanting to shout something after him, but realised it would only prove his point. You sat back down on the straw mattress with a huff, your heartbeat out of control.

***

The first week passed by quickly, but you never left the tent unless it was for washing or relieving yourself. Washing was odd for you - they did it in the river and it made you feel completely exposed. When you complained about this to Yoongi, he just smirked and said, "Outlaws, remember?"

It turned out, Yoongi was quite the gentleman. He never once peaked while you where washing, never came into his own tent, except when he needed a change of clothes and even then, he asked you before he entered, he brought your food everyday, never demanding anything from you. He was soft spoken and gentle in a way that surprised you and while you only spent time together when he escorted you to and from the river, it caused your heart to beat erratically and your stomach to flutter each time. And despite everything, you trust him. You didn't know what to make of these feelings. Part of you liked it - Yoongi was such a kind man, nothing like his brother, but part of you also hated it because he's the man who kidnapped you, who took you from everything you've ever know.

That night, when Yoongi arrived with your dinner, he didn't leave immediately like he normally does, he stopped for a second, looking you in the eyes. He always does that. "We received a response today. My brother is willing to meet. I sent him a date and a time in return. If all goes well, we will meet fourteen days from today and you will be able to go home after that"

"I didn't think he'd agree at all." You told him honestly.

"Well, I maybe have sent the letters to your parents, instead of to him directly." Yoongi confessed, looking a bit sheepish.

You frowned deeply at him, "Why would you do that?"

"Because if it was sent to him directly, he would have ignored it. He wouldn't have even responded, writing your disappearance off as a tragic loss. But if the demands were sent to your parents, a King and a Queen, and was aired out in public court, then he would have no choice but to respond." Yoongi reasoned and you started to see what he meant. This forced Yoonji's hand, forced him to come out in the open and play the part of the devoted fiance.

"It will most likely be a trap for you." You informed him, not sure exactly why you were saying it.

"I know." He nodded.

You swallowed, chest feeling tight. "Doesn't that frighten you?"

"No." Yoongi said with so much confidence, and it made your stomach churn. You didn't like the fact that he didn't seem to value his own life. "Enjoy your meal." He made to leave.

"Yoongi-ssi." You called and stopped in his tracks, turning back to you.

"Yes, Princess?" He asked, the title sounding much softer than it did that first time. It was gentle in a way that made your heart flutter. And you definitely liked that.

"W-would it be alright if I joined you and the others? F-for dinner?" You asked, absolutely hating that you were stuttering, clutching your dinner bowl tightly and not daring to meet his eyes.

Yoongi smiled to himself, thinking that you are too cute. "Of course."

You beamed at him, following him outside, seeing that three other men was sitting around a campfire in the middle of the four tents. Yoongi stopped, clearing his throat and the three other's looked at you. "This is Taehyung, Jimin and Jeongguk. Taehyung never shuts up but he's smart, Jimin is the most devious of all of them but he has a big heart, and Jeonggukie is very shy but good at everything he tries." He pointed at each one as he spoke. Jeongguk flushed and ducked his head when you looked at him. You wanted to coo.

"Look who finally came out of hiding." The one with the boxy grin - Taehyung - was smiling at you unrepentantly.

"You could be excecuted for speaking to me like that, you know." You told him, but he just kept smiling, not looking bothered.

"Well, life's all about taking risks and living on the edge right?" He said, pure mirth in his eyes and you found yourself smiling at him.

You looked at the ground for a few seconds, noticing that it was where they were all sitting before shrugging it off and sitting down. You have never sat on the ground before and it was a little strange, but all together much more pleasant than you would have expected. Yoongi took a seat next to you, only two feet between you, and you ignored the way it made your cheeks burn.

"How old are you?" Jimin asked, looking at you with bright eyes.

"Last winter was my eighteenth." You answered him, starting to eating your food.

"Ah, so you're Jeonggukie's age." Taehyung nodded in realisation, and you looked at Jeongguk again, who was resolutely staring at the fire.

"I suppose." You answered politely and actually meaning it. Being a royal, there was a lot of faking involved, meeting tons of people you don't like or people you will never see again, it was hard to be sincere with all of them, especially when most of them tried to out do you.

"What's it like being a Princess?" Taehyung asked you curiously and there was something about him that just compelled you to tell the truth.

"Not half as glamorous as people make it out to be." You answered honestly and out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Yoongi glance at you. "There is a lot of pressure, but not as much as on my brother, who is the Crown Prince."

The rest of the night passed with pleasant conversation, even Jeongguk joined in, although he never spoke to you. He retired first for the night, followed by Taehyung and Jimin - who, you noticed, went into the same tent - until it was just you and Yoongi, sitting under the stars. The fire had burnt out long ago but you didn't want to go to sleep yet. After a week of just sitting in your tent, you wanted to be free a little longer.

"I hope I didn't scare him off." You said, nodding in the direction of Jeongguk's tent.

"No, you didn't." Yoongi assured you, laughing lowly. The sound made you feel warm inside. "He is really just shy, but I think he kind of likes the idea of having a friend his age, not that you would be actual friends, but I think it would be good for him to spend time with you. We're all older than him."

You huffed at him, "Taehyung and Jimin both called you hyung, which means they are younger than you and if you are the Emperor's twin, then you are the same age and he is only four winters older than me. It's not that much. You are making it seem like you are ancient."

"Still." He insisted and seeing that you weren't getting anywhere, you decided to change the topic.

"I thought you were going to room with one of them." You said, eyes on the tent that Jimin and Taehyung entered together, your mind curious.

"Yes, but Taehyung was kind enough to offer his tent for me."

"Oh." You said, biting your lip, wondering if you should ask. Eventually curiousity got the best of you. "Is he and Jimin-"

"No, they are the very best of friends, they call each other platonic soulmates." Yoongi cut you off with a light laugh. "But many people don't think so. Not that they ever let it bother them."

You nodded, silence settling between you two for a long while. You were the one to break it, "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah." He looked at you and your nerves spiked.

"Why do you hate your brother so much?" The burning question burst out of you. "I know why I dislike him, he's controlling and dominating and puts on a front that he thinks I can't see past, but that doesn't seem like enough reason for you to hate him and want to kill him." Yoongi didn't answer, but his hands clenched into fists and his face turned cold. It made something inside of you feel awful. "Sorry if I overstepped, you don't have to answer that."

Finally, after a long silence - one that made you think that Yoongi was mad at you and was ignoring you - he spoke up. "Growing up, I was isolated and raised by one of my father's most trusted guard and his wife. My parents kept me a secret because they didn't want a future King who had someone with the exact same face as him. I grew up, knowing nothing about my twin brother, expect that he looks like me and would one day be King and that no one was allowed to see me. The guard and his wife, they had a son who was a little older than me, Seokjin. We grew up as best friends, brother's. He was more my brother than Yoonji was, but I always had this wish to see my twin brother with my own eyes.

"One day, when I went to the market with Seokjin, I finally saw him. He was dueling with someone in the street and it ended with him killing the man, who cut open his eye and gave him the scar. That night when I went home, I took a knife and cut myself the exact same scar. I knew I was destined to never meet him, but if nothing else, I wanted us to keep looking the same. Pathetic, right?" Yoongi gave a bitter chuckle but you were to intrigued by the story to notice.

"What I didn't know, was that Yoonji saw me at the market and it made him furious. Enough so that a few days later when I went to the water well to collect water, he slaughter the guard and his wife who raised me, my brother Seokjin - the only family I've ever had, and our two best friends from next door who had come over, Namjoon and Hoseok. Being the sole survivor, everyone thought it was me, and I've been on the run ever since.

"I was stealing food to survive until I met Jimin and Taehyung pickpocketing nobles in markets, and they taught me. Later on, we found Jeonggukie, who was severely beaten by his father and left in a ditch, so we patched him up asked him if he wanted to come with us and the rest is history." Yoongi shrugged carelessly but from the way his eyes burned, you could tell that he was anything but carefree and calm. He looked at you, words cold and harsh. "Now tell me, is that enough of a reason for me to hate him?"

Your heart pounded, a bit terrified because the man who you are supposed to be marrying, was a man who did all of those horrible, horrible things. You've never liked Yoonji, partly because you were all but forced to marry him, partly because he always talks to you like you are a object or a possession instead of his future wife, but you didn't think he was that cruel and vicious. And yes, you didn't have any reason to believe Yoongi but he has even less of a reason to lie to you. You looked him in the eyes, "I had no idea, I'm sorry."

"Why would you know?" Yoongi raised a brow. You adverted your eyes, not knowing what to say, looking that the cooling embers of the burnt out fire instead.

"So, why are you marrying him? You just said you don't like him." Yoongi spoke again and you wanted to lie, but he'd know immediately. Yoongi had this way of knowing when you are lying and when he looks into your eyes, it feels like he's looking into your soul. It is equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.

"Because I have a responsibility to marry someone of equal standing and someone who could politically and financially benefit my Kingdom." You answered monotonously, repeating what your parents had drilled into your head all your life.

For the first time in his life, Yoongi felt envious of his brother. A girl like this - a princess - would never give him - a outlaw - a second glance. She was destined to marry someone well off, not someone who's always on the run and nothing to his name - no matter how much he wants her too. "Well, if all goes according to plan, then you won't have too."

The blunt words startled you a bit, but you find that you aren't particularly sad about Yoonji's imminent death. Did that make you a bad person? It's not like you are in love with him or even attracted to him, no matter how much your parents have tried to make you fall for the Emperor. You nodded, "No, I guess not."

Yoongi looked at you curiously, "What will you do then?"

"I guess my parents will find another suitable marriage partner for me." You shrugged, feeling dread climb into your heart at the mere thought. "What about you?"

"I don't know." Yoongi said with a slight shrug. "I guess I'll find out." He looks at you, that same intense gaze he's been giving you since the day you met and like always, it makes you nervous.

Suddenly, you remembered how your handmaid would tell you about how she fell in love with her husband, how her heart races when he's nesr, her stomach that flutters and how she get so nervous around him when he looks at her a certain way.

Your eyes widened as your heart skipped a beat. No way. It's not possible.

You could not possibly be falling in love with Yoongi.

***

In the following days, the realisation slowly settled in your heart. You were falling in love with Yoongi, and you were terrified. You didn't know what to do and in the end, you did nothing. You spent time with him whenever you could, promising yourself that you would always treasure these memories.

You got to know Jimin and Taehyung better, even started talking with Jeongguk, who was actually really funny and just as mischievous as the other two once he got past his shyness. Despite the fact that you were technically kidnapped and being used to lure out your 'fiance', it never felt like you were a hostage. Instead, it felt like you were where you are supposed to be, like all your life you were meant to end up here.

The days passed to quickly for you, and when the time came for you to go back home, you almost didn't want too.

Taehyung gave you a long hug, Jimin cried and Jeongguk also gave you a long hug and when you pulled apart, his eyes were shining, but yours were too, so you didn't say anything. Finally, you stepped to Yoongi, who was standing next to a horse. A horse that you were supposed to ride back to the castle. He gave you directions in a stoic like manner, barely meeting your eyes.

"So, this is it, huh?" You asked as you took the reins of a horse from Yoongi.

He bit on his bottom lip and you used all of your will power not to look. He nodded, "Yeah."

"Can-" You cut youself off, but when a longing pang shot through your heart, you decided to go for it, because this is probably the last time you'll ever see him. "Can I give you a hug?"

Yoongi still didn't meet your eyes, but he gave a nod and you stepped forward, right into his personal space and wrapped your arms around his waist, head resting on his collarbone. He wrapped his arms around your shoulder, hugging you tightly but gentle. Tears finally fell past the rims of your eyes and you fisted his tunic in your hands to stop them from trembling.

You pulled apart after a long time and you both pretended you couldn't see the tear tracks on the others cheeks. You smiled at him, but it was shaky at best. "Have you decided what you'll do yet? After, I mean."

"We'll be leaving the country. I have a boat, anchored at the docks, and we'll see where the wind takes us." Yoongi answered and your heart ached violently because Yoongi would be going out to sea and would probably never return.

But there was something else, something more pressing, worrying you, because the docks were really close to the palace. "Won't that be dangerous? I mean, not a lot of people have seen the Emperor, so you should be relatively safe from people at the docks recognising you, but royal guards will be everywhere to look for you. And they know what the Emperor looks like and they'll definitely find a man with his face suspicious."

"Don't worry. We will lay low for a week, then we will leave from the docks. The boat will depart at noon, when the sun is highest in the sky an people will be to lazy to do much in this heat." Yoongi informed you and you relaxed ever so slightly, glad that Yoongi seems to have planned for every scenario.

"Just be careful." You said and he nodded, corners of his mouth quirking up for a second before it fell again. It was silent for a while, before he blurted out something that made your heart stop.

"You could come with us." Come with me, is what Yoongi didn't say, silently offering his heart.

"What?" You whispered, shocked but also so very tempted by the offer. You really, really wanted to say yes, to take ahold of his hand and never let go. "Yoongi," Your voice cracked, eyes tearing up again, heart hammering in your chest. "I-i can't."

Yoongi swallowed, nodding in resignation, having expected this answer. "Still, the offer is there."

"Thank you." You said, eyes blurring and you blinked furiously, not wanting to cry again.

"Always." He smiled at you, sincere and heartbroken at the same time.

You got on the horse, glancing at Yoongi and the others one last time - Taehyung, Jimin and ever Jeongguk waving at you, you waved back - before taking off in the direction Yoongi told you too, feeling like you were leaving everything behind.

By the time you reached the palace gates five days later, news of the Emperor's demise had spread everywhere.

***

You were back at the place, people giving you sympathetic glances and you used it to your advantage, that everyone was thinking your were grieving. They were right, you are grieving - for what could have been, for leaving behind your first love, for not choosing Yoongi - they just had the wrong brother. It's been five days, but it's felt five years, everyday without Yoongi. Everything inside of you screaming that there was still time, he was only leaving in two days.

You ignored it.

***

"We can always find you another man to marry." Your mother was saying, the two mornings later, already over the death of the Emperor, it would seem. She just wanted you to get married and have children, no thought of your feelings spared.

"Yes, you are still young, my dear. Once we're back home, we'll start looking again." Your father said with a stern face, but you didn't want this and it was all to much.

"Did you and mom marry for love, or for convenience?" You asked bluntly for the first time in your eighteen winters.

Your mother looked a little uncomfortable, but your father just smiled, but there was something knowing in his eyes. "For love, my dear."

"So, then you believe that people can marry for love?" You asked, looking at your father.

"Of course we do, but not everyone is that lucky." Your mother quickly answered.

You looked at the sun, realising that Yoongi will be leaving in an hour. Your heart ached fiercely at the thought. Your whole being recoiled at the thought of marrying another man, because you don't want another man, you want Yoongi. You don't care if he's an outlaw, you don't care that you're a princess or that the whole world would be against you. As long as you have him, you are willing to go against anything.

Something inside of you broke.

"I can't do this, I'm sorry." You whispered, tears welling up in your eyes, falling down your cheeks freely. You stood from the breakfast table and turned around, starting to walk out of the room.

"Y/N!" Your mother's voice called. "What's going on?"

You stopped, turning back to them with a teary smile. "Mom, dad, I'm sorry. I love you both, so much, but if I don't follow my heart, I'll regret it for the rest of my life."

You turned again, taking only three steps.

"Y/N!" Your father called, stern voice stopping you and you felt a sense of dread inside of you building up. You looked back once more, but was surprised to see a gentle smile on his face. "Send us a letter now and again, our hearts are old and your brother will worry."

"I will." You promised, knowing that was as much of a blessing you were going to get from your father, eyes blurring and you wondered how much you've cried the last week. More than you've ever cried in your whole life, that much is certain.

"And be happy." He added, and you nodded, a tear escaping it's confines.

"Y/N!" You mother's voice echoed around the room, but you ignored it as your heart leaped. Feeling lighter than you have ever before, you lifted your dressed and took off running.

***

"She's not coming." Yoongi sighed, disappointed even though he knew that this was the most likely outcome. He is the outlaw, she is the princess - they don't get to have a happy ending.

"Are you sure you don't want to wait a little longer, hyung?" Jimin asked softly. He, Taehyung and Jeongguk looked similarly dejected.

"It's already and hour past the time I told her we would be leaving. She's not coming." He swallowed thickly, looking where the palace lies not to far from the docks, where his heart lies. "We should go." He was walking up the gangway when he heard it.

"Yoongi!" He turned so fast he almost fell over, wanting, needing to see if his ears was deceiving him. His eyes searched frantically, then he saw you, running to him with the brightest smile he's ever seen. You were wearing a purple dress made off expensive material, hair and face done perfectly, looking ethereal and running straight to him.

Yoongi couldn't believe it, couldn't help the smile that spread on his lips either. He walked down the gangway, and got there just in time to pick you up, hugging you tightly to him.

"I was afraid you already left." You said, gasping for air, arms tangled around Yoongi.

"I was about too." He admitted, and felt a sense of dread because what if he had left an hour ago and missed her? Thank Goodness, Jeongguk asked him to wait a bit longer.

"I want to go with you, I want to be with you. I don't care that you're an outlaw and I'm a Princess. I just want you." You rambled, tightening your grip, afraid that if you let go, he'd vanish.

"Then let's go, Princess." Yoongi breathed, gentle setting you down and taking your hand in his, lacing your fingers and squeezing.

You walked up the gangway, hand-in-hand, side-by-side, and unbelievably happy. The other's cheered when they heard you were coming along, and didn't just come for another goodbye, Taehyung hugged you, Jimin squealed and Jeongguk picked you up too, spinning you around.

"You know what I just realised?" Taehyung asked everyone, once the boat was out at sea.

"What?" Jimin asked curiously.

"Yoongi-hyung is technically a Prince." He said, mischievous smile on his lips as he looked at their Captain. Something that you didn't know about Yoongi, but found ridiculously attractive. Really, you should have realised when he told you about the boat, but you didn't and now that you did, well, your cheeks definitely wasn't red because of the heat.

"Oh my God, Taehyung-hyung is actually right for once." Jeongguk gasped, eyes widening.

Taehyung looked offended, arms crossing over his chest. "Yah! I'm always right, you brat."

"The Outlaw Prince." You mused with a smile.

"Your Outlaw Prince." Yoongi muttered just soft enough for you to hear, rosy flush on his cheeks, placing a kiss on your temple.

You hummed happily in agreement, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your head against his chest, "Mine."

It was silent for a while before Taehyung asked excitedly:

"So, when are you two getting married?"

the end.

#yeah this was inspired by daechwita's mv #bangtan #bangtan fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi #yoongi #bts suga #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x oc #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #yoongi x oc

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jaskiers-sweetkiss · 4 years

Text

Half A Heart

Pairing: SHIELD!Reader x Daniel Sousa

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: some self-destructive behavior, vomiting, mild AoS spoilers up through 7x04

a/n: Here’s a Daniel Sousa soulmates AU I thought of at like midnight and wrote in two hours because I swear I cannot get enough of that man. Let me know what you think!

___

Everyone started out with their lives feeling kinda off-kilter. Everything felt just a little bit off, perpetually unbalanced, not quite full, and it all had to do with the heart tattooed on each person’s wrist. Or, rather, a half a heart, as it wasn’t until you met your soulmate that the heart became whole and with it the entire world shifted into place. You were a bit different. You still had the same half a heart as all your friends, but yours was white. Nobody knew what it meant. Normal soulmarks were red, a sign that your soulmate was alive and well and you’d be meeting them any day now. Black soulmarks existed as well, though they were much sadder. A black soulmark meant that your soulmate had died, all accounts said the black mark was a terrible burden to carry. However, there were no records of a white soulmark.

Growing up you believed the white mark was a worse burden to carry, sometimes just wishing the mark would turn black. At least then you’d know your soulmate had actually existed. Instead, you had become certain that you didn’t have a soulmate, destined to walk the earth with only half a heart.

So, you had thrown yourself into your career. You were recruited by SHIELD directly out of high school and you spent four years at the Academy of Operations, training endlessly to be a field agent. Four years of hoping that if you just pushed yourself a little harder you could forget the excitement of your peers who were meeting their soulmates for the first time, forget that you would never know the feeling of “rightness” everyone talked about. It was no surprise when you graduated top of your class.

You were quickly recommended to a team of agents who took on SHIELD’s most dangerous assignments. It wasn’t until a couple missions in that you realized: no one on your team had a soulmate. Each of your teammates had a black mark on their wrists and they explained that SHIELD only assigned people without soulmates to the team. The organization refused to send agents with soulmates on such dangerous missions, it would be cruel. You learned the policy was similar to that of the military up until the 80s when people began petitioning to be able to join the armed forces outside of wartime.

Some might’ve found this practice disheartening and sickening, that SHIELD was willing to send you to your deaths just because you didn’t have your other half waiting for you at home but you took it as a good thing. You convinced yourself that not having a soulmate just made you an even better agent. At least, you tried to convince yourself, but some nights you were kept awake by your longing for your other half.

Nevertheless, you were pissed when you received your transfer notice. The higher-ups had recommended you for a different team, and with or without your approval you were leaving. You’d had half a mind to go sulk in your bunk when you arrived at the giant plane you’d be traveling around the world in but your new teammates hadn’t given you a chance. Coulson - yes Phil Coulson, as in died-for-the-Avengers Phil Coulson - had immediately introduced you to FitzSimmons, who had latched onto you immediately.

The team file had led you to believe FitzSimmons was one person, though you quickly discovered that it was a scientist duo, Leopold Fitz and Jemma Simmons. The two were clearly soulmates. You had known without even seeing their full, red marks. They acted like two halves of a whole and for the first month of traveling with the team you did your best to avoid them as much as possible. You felt bad, but you felt worse trying to ignore the pain in your chest stemming from the damned mark on your own wrist that seemed amplified in their presence.

At the start of your time together Simmons had been fascinated by your mark, though after inconclusive test after inconclusive test she concluded that the white mark was a mystery. Though you still didn’t have an answer, the one-on-one time with Simmons had made you more comfortable around the scientist and you found yourself not minding FitzSimmons’ presence as much.

By the time SHIELD fell the team had become something of a family to you. It wasn’t perfect, but you allowed the love you all shared for each other to fill some of the gaping hole your lack of a soulmate left. You still felt like you were walking around with only one shoe most days, but it felt more bearable.

You had a support system now. You comforted each other through Ward’s betrayal and Fitz’s recovery. You stuck by each other through alien cities and the discovery of Inhumans. You were relentless in rescuing Jemma from Maveth and Daisy from Hive. You were a shoulder to cry on as Daisy’s mark turned from red to black after Lincoln’s sacrifice. Your team had been there to rescue you when you had refused to leave the Framework because at least there you had a soulmate. You’d been to the future together, you’d stopped the end of the world, you’d seen way too much loss and experienced way too much suffering but you were still together, even if some members were gone.

You were so thankful to have your family by your side as you dealt with Sarge and Izel, none of you having properly recovered from Coulson’s death and now having to go head-to-head with a man with his face. It had felt like your most difficult task yet, with Jemma off rescuing Fitz and the Shrike’s presence on earth, but you had made it out unscathed.

Well, mostly unscathed. You had been a bit injured in the battle at the temple, and Jemma had insisted on doing a full-body check-up before clearing you for fieldwork in the 30s. Yes, the 1930s, because apparently it was the perfect time to add “traveling back in time” to your list of absolutely insane things you’ve done since you first stepped on the Bus. That’s when she noticed.

“Uh, y/n?” Jemma spoke, the professional demeanor she normally assumed when performing medical on the team breaking to show her confusion and concern. “When did that happen?”

“When did what happen? Oh...” Your words died in your throat when you looked down to where Jemma was pointing.

The mark on your wrist— the mark that had always been white, the mark who’s mystery you had somewhat made peace with— was now red.

“H-how is that possible?” You were scared. You thought you should probably be thrilled, you had a soulmate after all but instead you were terrified. The fear seeped into your bones and you thought you might puke.

“I have no idea,” Jemma answered honestly before sensing your distress and tacking on, “but, we’ll do some tests and try to get to the bottom of it. We never find out what the white meant, maybe this was always in the cards for you.”

The results of this round of testing felt somehow more confusing than the first. Biologically, nothing about your mark had changed and yet it was undeniably red. Jemma had tried to reassure you both by reminding you that the science of soulmarks was basically nonexistent anyway but it was clear by her panicked expression and your churning stomach that it wasn’t working.

Entirely lost as to what was happening to you, Jemma pulled you from field work. At some point you had wondered if you were missing the chance to meet your soulmate while you were stuck in the med bay but you brushed it off. If you actually had a soulmate, would it even be worth it to meet them only to be ripped away when the Zephyr jumped again? You weren’t sure you could handle that kind of heartbreak, and you had already gone this long with a half a heart.

When you arrived in the 50s you put up no fight when your teammates left the Zephyr without you. You had already made up your mind on the matter. However, fate, it seemed, had a different plan.

You were really just wandering aimlessly around the Zephyr. You’d needed a break from the chaos of the team’s time travel escapades and most of the team was currently fighting off chronicoms in the train below you.

You hadn’t even realized they had returned until you had meandered into the ramp and storage area of the Zephyr and ran smack into a stranger. You thought he might’ve said something, maybe “woah” or “look out” but you couldn’t tell through the sudden pounding in your ears.

Had you had time to think you might’ve remembered him from your freshman year history course at the Academy. But you didn’t have time because as soon as you bumped into the man you felt the undeniable need to vomit and you turned and bolted from the room. You were thankful the bathroom was where it was as you barely made it before you were spilling the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

Then someone was beside you, holding your hair away from your face and rubbing your back soothingly as you puked.

“Thanks, Jemma,” you breathed, your eyes clenched shut as you leaned over the toilet bowl, praying you wouldn’t start puking again. The pounding in your ears was gone but your whole body felt different.

Jemma stiffened at your words and muttered a quick apology as she backed away. Except that was definitely not Jemma’s voice.

Your eyes flew open as you scrambled away from the toilet, pressing your back against the bathroom wall as you stared wildly at the stranger. It seemed your brain had finally caught up with you as you recognized the man as Daniel Sousa, SHIELD agent, former partner of Peggy Carter, and the man your team had been trying to protect from the chronicoms.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You spluttered and Sousa blushed, looking away awkwardly.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered out himself, “You were just…” he gestured to the toilet, “and, well, i t-think we’re…”

“What?”

“Y’know…”

You did not know. You had never felt more confused in your life. This man, who you had never met before had followed you into the bathroom to hold your hair while you threw up, and his words did nothing to explain his strange actions.

Rather than try to explain verbally, he pulled up his jacket and shirt sleeves to reveal his wrist.

“I think we might be…” he nodded down to the full red heart prominently displayed on his inner arm.

As if on instinct, you looked down at your wrist, breath catching in your throat as you started at the matching red heart now tattooed on your skin. Your soulmark was not only red but it was whole. You suddenly realized why you felt so different: your world had finally shifted into place.

“Oh god this has to be the worst possible way to meet your soulmate,” you groaned, slightly shocked that you were able to speak let alone joke when you thought for certain you should be crying after all the hell your soulmark had put you through.

Thankfully Sousa laughed. “I’m just thankful to have finally met you.”

The way he looked at you was so sincere that you swore your heart stopped right there. You stayed that way for a moment, him looking at you like you hung the stars and you wondering when death would greet you because surely it wasn’t possible to go this long without a heartbeat.

Then he cleared his throat.

“I’m Daniel Sousa,” he introduced, reaching out a hand to you which you took gratefully.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you introduced yourself. “We should probably get off the bathroom floor.”

Daniel laughed again and your heart warmed at the sound. You clambered up to your feet before reaching out a hand to help him up, thankful to your subconscious for remembering that Daniel Sousa was an amputee and probably shouldn’t be plopping on the floor to help vomiting strangers, soulmates or not.

“Um, I need to brush my teeth, or get a mint, or something,” you rambled embarrassedly as you stood in the middle of the bathroom, suddenly very aware that you had just vomited and not only could you taste it but he could probably smell it and oh god.

Daniel graciously let you go and you reassured him that you’d find him when you were done.

___

You had heard others talk about finally feeling “whole” when they met their soulmate but you disagreed. You had always been whole, but now you felt full. The constant ache in your chest (that you honestly hadn’t even realized was abnormal) had suddenly vanished. You felt lighter and you could’ve sworn the world seemed a little brighter.

Technically it had been decades since the two of you had met but it had really only been a few months, though it felt like you had known Daniel your whole life. You supposed in some way you had, you were meant to be two halves of a whole after all. Regardless of timing, after years and years as a SHIELD agent, throwing yourself headfirst into danger at every opportunity you couldn’t imagine something as domestic as this.

The two of you were cuddled up together on the couch of your shared apartment. Saturday night had become movie night, a chance for you to catch your soulmate up on all the media he had missed between the 50s and the present. The end credits of Monsters Inc played in the background as he leaned down to kiss you softly. You melted into the kiss, the feel of his lips on yours the only thing rooting you in reality. This moment, your soulmate, the perpetual feeling of content, was real and it was yours.

#daniel sousa #daniel sousa x reader #SHIELD #SHIELD!Reader #agents of shield #aos #aos fic #daniel sousa fic #soulmates #soulmate au #fitzsimmons #jemma simmons #phil coulson #daisy johnson #aos spoilers #zephyr #time travel

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captainseaweedbrains · 4 years

Text

Dance of the Color Guard, Op.64: Prologue

Hello all! So here’s the Everlark Marching Band Fic! I finally feel confident enough to start sharing it. A lot of this fic is based off my personal experience in high school marching band, so if anything is off. Welp. 🤷🏼‍♀️

Special shout outs to @lovely-tothe-bone for your encouragement and excitement for the fic and @badnovels for sparking the idea to have Everlark be color guard/drumline.

Rated T

Enjoy and let me know what you think!

October

Had someone told Katniss six months ago that she’d be in the backseat of Peeta Mellark’s beat-up Saturn making out and hissing at him not to leave any noticeable marks on her neck, she would have asked what drugs they were on because no way in hell would she be caught dead talking to him, let alone heavily making out and wondering when they could do this again. But here she was, shirtless and his hand trying—failing—to unhook her bra as they both tried to catch their breath.

“Peeta,” she breathed, tapping his back lightly to grab his attention. “Peeta!” He grunted against her, his mouth still sucking lightly at the nape of her neck, his face hidden by her unruly hair, when she slapped his back harder.

“I’ve gotta—rehearsal—!” His hands successfully unhooked her bra and his fingers lazily crawled up her spine, tracing light patterns as they went. A shiver ran through her as she tried —and failed—to detangle herself from him, but he kept muttering how they were fine against her skin and well, fuck it. She was far more interested in the way his hard body felt against hers right now, the way her heart squeezed and jumped every time his lips lightly pressed near her collarbone, than she’d ever be about hearing the latest color guard gossip during pre-practice stretches, or helping Miss Trinket pull out their equipment to the practice fields behind the school.

Holy shit. She was really making out in Peeta Mellark’s car.

If she wasn’t so caught up in him—his touch, the way he always seemed to smell and taste like sugar and warm bread, that smile—she’d laugh about the surrealism of it all.

If only he wasn’t so damn distracting.

She pulled his face up toward hers, already missing the medicinal taste of his chapstick in her mouth. Banning all thoughts of band rehearsal and gossipy color guards and whatever fucking thing Cato Martin and Marvel Baxter had to say to her tonight when she’d have to weave through their set with her handful of ribbon, Katniss smashed her lips to his, loving the way he held her in his lap like this. His arms felt like anchors, keeping her grounded when everything about this made her want to float away with the wind, his legs nice and warm against the cool October chill. She really could spend forever in this backseat.

Her phone alarm went off, reminding them both that rehearsal was going to start in 20 minutes and that they’d better get their asses to the band room or else Trinket and Abernathy would force them to run extra laps around the field for being late. Katniss was up to being a couple minutes late, though, happily ready to run those laps if it meant she could keep running her hands through his soft, curly hair—God, she loved his hair, a bit obsessed with it, really— but Peeta hated running and pulled them apart, reaching blindly behind her in search of her bra and shirt.

Moment. Over.

“Let’s stay here,” she suggested teasingly, pressing her face into the nape of his neck, her arms wrapping tighter around him. “Let’s ditch and go someplace and make out some more.”

His body shook when he laughed, a sound she used to find so grating only months ago, and he pulled her away, holding her bra in front of them. “I think they’d notice if their Romeo and Juliet were missing, don’t you think?”

She rolled her eyes, but accepted the bra, slapping his hands away when he tried to help with the hooks. He was far too distracting.

“Quit touching,” she snapped, pulling her tank top over her head before crawling to the front seat to check how her hair looked in the mirror. She didn’t assume people still thought her and Peeta were still just casual friends, but she wasn’t going to kindle the flame any more than she had to by walking in the band room with any type of sex hair.

“Peeta!” Katniss scolded when she saw the red markings up and down her neck. “I told you to be careful!”

He had the audacity to laugh, grunting as his large frame crawled back into the driver’s seat. “It wasn’t my idea to have an impromptu make-out session right before rehearsal. Here,” he moved her long hair so that it hung loosely around her shoulders. “All gone.” And with a smile, he kissed the corner of her scowl.

“Not all gone!” she snapped. “How am I supposed to hide this during rehearsal?”

He shrugged and started the car, pulling out from the small alcove they liked to park in before rehearsals to talk and sometimes kiss. It was private from any prying eyes, which was ideal at first, but may be a dangerous thing now, since clearly Katniss felt more daring on what they could do before their 4-hour rehearsal began.

People were still getting out of their cars and milling into the side door that led straight into the band room when they found a spot on the far side of the parking lot. Checking to see if the coast was clear, Peeta pulled her over the console for one last kiss, her stomach flipping and squeezing yet again at how strong his hands felt against her cheeks. They were really pushing it on time, but Katniss deepened the kiss for one last moment before breaking away and shakily reaching behind her to open the door.

“See you in rehearsal,” she said, her voice a little unsteady. His smile was a little off kilter, one that probably matched her own, and gave her a friendly wave of goodbye. They never entered the building together, even when they were just forced-under-circumstances carpool buddies and had no potential gossip targets tattooed on their foreheads, but as she made her way up to the door, she couldn’t stop thinking about him and wondering if he was checking her out from behind. Normally the thought of someone checking out her ass would mortify her, but with Peeta…well…

A lot could happen in six months.

#Everlark fanfiction #The Hunger Games Fanfiction #Everlark #Everlark fanfic #Fanfiction #Marching band fic #My writing #I hope you all enjoy #This fic is a lot of fun to write and I can't wait for everyone to see more of it #I'm taking the plunge #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #more like enemies to friends to lovers

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threebananasforayorooo · 3 years

Text

Harry is waiting.

He is waiting for the (Y/N), the cute girl who wormed her way into his heart with delicious sandwiches and pretty notes.

Harry doesn’t even know how it started either! One day he was going about with his daily business at the library, glaring icily at anyone who had walked up to him sending them off with cold answers if they had the courage to speak with him, and the next this impossibly adorable girl had parked her cute little bum into the seat diagonal from his, sliding him extra muffins and milk she had on him with impossibly thoughtful notes like: I noticed that you didn’t have any lunch today and I had an extra sandwich and some juice, if you’d like. That’s all she’d said as well! Just slid the food over to him and opened up her laptop and notebook, grabbing her perfectly color coordinated pens and began to take pretty little notes on something in her laptop. Didn’t even glance over at him to see if he’d even looked at the sandwich or not. Which, while he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing him reach for the food, he didn’t have any lunch today, and while that usually wasn’t a problem, he didn’t have any breakfast either (he’d woken up half an hour late and had absolutely no time to have breakfast) but when he did reach for the muffin, he could see her smiling down at her book through the corner of his eye as she continued outlining her chapter.

So here he was, waiting for the cheerful girl who had made it part of her routine to walk into the little nook in the library where Harry was hidden and slide over whatever snack or second lunch she had brought for him that day, and then continue with her studying. After about fifteen minutes of waiting and searching desperately for the girl who usually came in clad in a colourful chunky pastel sweater, he decides to continue with his studying, making progress until he is rudely interrupted by heavy footsteps and laboured breathing.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m really really sorry that I’m late today, but they didn’t have your usual at the cafe next to the library, so I had to go across campus to buy it, and it took forever since the waiting line was huge and by the time I’d gotten it, I was late to our study meeting, so I’m sorry Harry!” (Y/N)’s eyes are wide and her hair is mussed up, the pastel purple sweater slightly off kilter on her body.

“Hey, hey, it's fine pet! Really, you didn’t have to get me anything, could have just texted me and I’d be fine,” he replies and (Y/N) looks so relieved, he feels guilty, as though she thought it was obligatory for her to buy him lunch everyday. She sits down, and passes him his lunch and they continue studying together, with some minor conversation breaking out as time passes.

But at 6 o’clock when they stop studying, (Y/N) is quick to ask Harry something that’s been on her mind for a while now.

“Do you want to come over and watch a movie at my place?”

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

(Y/N) has no idea how on earth they got here. How she can be looking at Harry at 10 o’clock on a Friday night, with a wide smile stretched across his perfect face. Six months ago, had she invited him over for a late night grocery trip, she knows that all she would have gotten in return is a hard glare before he’d turn back to whatever it was he was occupied with.

And because of that, Friday nights used to mean snuggling up with her fuzzy blanket and doing some extra, late night studying while she prayed that whoever would be delivering her takeout that night would be a very cute, very single college student, as she stressed out about the closest due date for an assignment she was just getting started on.

Now, Friday nights meant finishing any assignments she hadn’t already finished at the library with Harry, before running back to her little brick flat to drop off their things. They meant trying to get to the grocery store as fast as possible in her hot rod red 1960 Rolls Royce convertible, and taking the cart straight to the frozen section, throwing in two large pizzas, and far too many packages of cookie dough, as Harry ventured to the snacks aisle to dump in copious amounts of both sweet and savoury snacks.

Friday nights now mean going back to (Y/N) flat and setting up Netflix on the tv. They mean turning off all the lights except for her fairy lights and opening all the snacks to munch on as they surf for a new movie. They mean snuggling together closely underneath the fuzzy blankets and (Y/N) wearing her fuzzy socks since Harry’s feet are “so fucking cold” (they really aren’t, but Harry knows she says they are because she’s always cold).

And this Friday is no exception. Once reaching home from the grocery store, Harry is quick to open Netflix to Legally Blonde, and (Y/N) smiles at him, fondly.

“Feeling nostalgic today, are we?” She asks, and Harry hums, turning his head back at her and smiling, patting the space beside him on the couch. She complies and he turns his head towards the tv, while (Y/N) chooses to admire the side profile of Harry’s face as he watches the movie. The plump curve of his pink lips, soft and tempting, and she could just lean over to him and-

“Hey do you think Warner ever finds love in his life?” (Y/N) eyes widen frantically, but Harry's forest green eyes are still trained on the tv.

“Maybe, I don’t know,” she responds, “He’ll probably get a sugar baby or something when he’s forty if he doesn’t,” and Harry snorts, turning to look at her, eyes twinkling. There’s humor in his gaze, but there’s a hint of something else, and she can’t exactly tell what it is.

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

Harry was really trying not to be jealous. He swears, he didn’t want to be jealous, it's not like she was his in the first place. But fuck, when he saw that bastard walk up to (Y/N), he swears he saw red glowing in the corners of his gaze. The worst part as well was that she didn’t even know what the little fucker was trying to do! She thought that he really did just want to take her out for coffee as a thank you for always letting him borrow her notes! What (Y/N) didn’t know was that the little fucker actually just wanted to get into her pants. So what does he do? Does he stand in their way and let the filthy bastard even think he has a chance at her? Fuck no!

Stalking towards them, Harry smeared a slow smirk on his face, preparing a threatening speech in his head to scare poor bastard away from his (Y/N).

“(Y/N)! There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Who's your friend?” He says it like he’s interested, shooting her a bright smile, as she turns towards him, though the minute she turns back to the fucker right in front of her his smile drops and Harry gives the boy (man is too good of a word to describe him) the deadliest glare he can muster, flexing his arms subtly so he knows not to fuck with Harry. (Y/N), ever the sweetheart, is blissfully oblivious to the all-powerful anger and jealousy emanating from Harry, turns back to the boy and smiles.

“Harry, this is Carter, he was just talking about a breakfast café that he’s just been to that sells amazing bagels,” and fuck Harry can’t say that it doesn’t disturb him seeing (Y/N) look innocent and pure, and so easy to absolutely ruin, not knowing this Carters true intentions.

“Really?” Harry hums, looking at her and then facing Carter again, “What’s it called?”

“Sunshine Café,” squeaks the terrified boy, and Harry knows Carter can see the gloating gleam in his eyes.

“Right, well I think I’ll take her there, yeah?” He asks, not waiting for an answer before he turns to (Y/N), saying, “I’ve just parked the car outside pet, just wait fo’ me inside, I promise I’ll just take a minute,” and she hums happily, taking off without a second glance to either of the two boys who stare after her, one with admiration and the other with jealousy and hatred.

As soon as (Y/N) is out of sight, Harry has his hands on Carter shirt, pulling him close to his face and glaring down at him heavily.

“You stay the fuck away from her. Got it?” His voice is low and dangerous, eyes burning a menacing glare into the shorter boy at his mercy. Carter scoffs, and (albeit with a little more than necessary effort) pulls away from Harry, sending him an annoyed glare.

“I don’t know why you’re being such a cockblock,” he spits out, “I mean, if you’re not planning on fucking her anytime soon, why don’t you let the rest of us have a go at her?” Harry could feel the anger boiling in his blood, melting it like a hot, dense wax. He really didn’t want to have to do something rash to the kid, (that’s a lie, he wanted to feel the crunch of his nose under Harry’s fist ever since he saw let-me-tell-you-about-something-you-like-to-get-laid stance Carter had assumed when talking to (Y/N)) but now, he’s almost glad that the amateur in front of him had said something so stupid, just for the chance to give him a good, hard, whack across the face.

Harry doesn’t even know it's happening until he hears the sweet crunch of bones underneath his fist, and his knuckles are stinging and Carter is clutching onto his nose, cries of agony escaping his filthy mouth. He glares at the boy with a hate as passionate as the care he holds in his heart for the girl of which the punch was for, and spits out a hiss.

“Don’t you dare fucking talk about her like that again, you understand?” Harry growls, grabbing the collar of Carter's shirt and pulling him up close to his face. The smaller boy whimpers in the back of his throat and desperately tries to draw his body back, as though he wants his shirt to swallow him whole. Harry only glares harder and draws the boy closer to him.

“If I ever hear you fucking talk about her like that, in my life, you’re going to fucking regret it. Understand?”, Carter whimpers once again, and all Harry can think is pathetic as the once playboy, now whimpering boy struggles to come out with an answer. “Do you understand?” once Harry hears the boy nod shakily, he drops him back to his feet and Carter scrambles away, sending him a disgusted glare.

Harry looks around his surroundings, glaring at the bystanders who’ve crowded around to watch.

“Get the fuck back to class!,” he barks out. He makes his way to his car, ensuring that there is no bruising on his hands, to give any clues as to what he was doing with Carter, mere seconds before, and slides into his car, turning his head to see his (Y/N) blissfully unaware of what happened in the courtyard. She turns to him with the sweetest, smile and it makes him all the more glad that he was able to save (that’s a slightly drastic word, but Harry was known to do slightly drastic things sometimes, and right now he just wants to be her ‘knight in shining armour’) her from the trauma of heartbreak ((Y/N) is way to gullible for her own good).

“Harry! You won’t believe what just happened!,” she looks up at him, eyes wide and moony, soft all over, and Harry just wants to hold her in his arms and squeeze her, and never let anyone hurt her.

“I was like walking here, right? And I saw this tiny little bunny on the ground and then when I bent down to get it, my shorts rode up! Which really wouldn't have been that bad, but they were my peekaboo short’s y’know? So anyone could have gotten a peek at my good bits-”

“I love you-”

“-And I’m terrified that someone might have gotten a look--what?”

SHIT.

This is the College!Harry story I wrote off of a request for prompt 59. My prompts have been deleted I think, but if anyone wants something to be written, my requests are always open. I will make a part to of this one if requested, so if you want part two, please request.

#harrystyles #college au #college!harry #harry styles

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mythicamagic · 4 years

Text

Sesskag week - Day 2: Fantasy

Summary: A vampire and a time traveller walk into a ballroom.

AN: For Sesskag Week Day 2 Fantasy. Enjoy some vampire Sesshoumaru ;)

Rated M for smut

3,700 words

(all prompts posted on Ao3, fanfic.net and Dokuga)

Eventide

Senseless chatter had never appealed to him. He wasn't entirely taciturn, but he felt it important to choose words carefully, speak eloquently, and steer the conversation toward a goal. Humans did not seem to share this thought. Don't misunderstand though, he was excellent at being polite thank you very much; provided it served a purpose. His pride wouldn't allow for useless platitudes or grovelling. For the most part, Sesshoumaru took. He did not need to persuade.

As a vampire that made him somewhat of an oddity.

He stepped into the throng of idle gossip, tinkling laughter, wine-laced breath and senseless talking. The Ball was in full swing, with some grabbing partners to dance and others mingling around the sidelines in large groups. The commotion was loud and complicated, busy.

Perfect. The ideal environment to hunt in.

Glancing around the large room, with its high ceiling and grand chandelier, he inhaled. Perfumes, tobacco, wine, sweat and faint arousal permeated the air. Rain pelted heavily against the windows outside, which only further encouraged the humans to stay longer at the gathering, fretting the journey home by carriage. Sesshoumaru walked through the mingling humans like vapour, gaze passing over them, searching. He wasn't an official guest. No one knew him. But they'd invited him in after just a few choice words. It was apparent from his speech and the way he held himself that he was a man of standing, cultured and exotic. Yet none of them could see the true colour of his eyes and hair, the glamour perfect; right down to the bluntness of his nails, teeth or the unnatural points of his ears appearing curved.

His tongue pushed against the roof of his mouth, brushing the back of his fangs. Focusing drowned out the chatter and brought the thrum of hundreds of heartbeats into his hearing. Their happy faces blurred until red veins could be seen, spreading out like intricate tree roots under their skin. Blood called to him. Saliva pooled behind his teeth.

He flirted with the idea of wrapping a long-fingered hand around a blonde woman's arm and arresting her attention.

A burst of harsh pink light suddenly forced his eyes shut, coming from within the throng of people. No one else seemed to notice. Sesshoumaru hastily rubbed a hand over stinging lashes, lips curving in delight. Victory sang in his chest.

I knew you were here.

"I don't think I've seen you before."

Stiffening, the faces of the humans swamped back into place the moment Sesshoumaru's eyes peeled open. Turning, he found a dark-haired boy quietly looking at him.

He inclined his head, thankful his voice was steady. "I do not live in the area, rather, I am just passing through. Your generous associates invited me here for the night, nonetheless."

The boy rose a brow, but shook his head slightly as though trying to dispel his suspicions.

"Kohaku, are you interrogating every guest now?" An amiable young man joined the conversation, chuckling. "This is supposed to be a party. You need to enjoy more and worry less- you're not on guard duty tonight, correct?"

Kohaku frowned and folded his arms, glancing away.

Friendly dark blue eyes turn to Sesshoumaru, "sorry about that. There was just an incident recently is all. Everyone's a little on edge, so this party is quite ideal."

"I do not take offence to it," he inclined his head, glancing at Kohaku. If the suspicious boy would just leave, he could ask more about this 'incident' but as it was, he politely excused himself and moved into the crowd again. The light was the top of his priority list anyway. It had been since the second he stepped into the sea of possible victims.

Now where in the room was she? It was almost like she had sensed his bloodlust and thrown him off-kilter. Golden brown eyes passed carefully over the faces around him.

As he passed a grey-haired gentleman Sesshoumaru chanced a look at the swaying bodies of the dancers.

Long dark hair caught and held his attention first.

Sun-kissed skin and gentle laughter followed. Her green skirts flowed up into the air slightly as she was spun out from her partner toward him. Exhilarating light blue irises met his startled gaze before she frowned and was pulled back into the young man's arms. Sesshoumaru stared after her, inhaling the pure, intoxication scent teasing his senses.

Experimentally, he tried focusing again, seeing the human's veins once more around him- but the pink light flashed out the moment he did. Turning eager attention to her again, his instincts flickered.

Her eyes burned with warning. His lips curved up in response.

Sesshoumaru stepped forth into the dancers, moving swiftly and stepping around some couples. He pivoted on his heel to allow him through without touching them- fluidly passing around the humans like water. He reached the woman the moment the song ended. She was beaming at her partner and panting from the exertion while the young man laughed and chatted nonsense.

The moment she looked at him, Sesshoumaru bowed low, hand on his chest. "Will you honour me with the next dance, or are you spoken for, my Lady?" voice pitched to be respectful, he couldn't keep the velvet caress out of it as his thirst doubled. His head tilted up slightly to meet her steady, annoyed gaze, even as he kept his back bowed.

Sesshoumaru did not usually persuade, but it was somewhat necessary when dealing with her.

"Well uh- we were dancing..."

"Kouga," the woman looked at the boy, smiling gently. "I did promise to dance with everyone that I could- I wouldn't want to disappoint this man. Besides," she looked at Sesshoumaru again. "I'm not spoken for."

A breath rushed out of his dead lungs that he didn't know he'd been holding. Sesshoumaru straightened, smile sharp. "Shall we?" he asked, raising a clawed hand for her to take. He knew she could see it if she focused. Look past the magic coating his skin.

He watched her hesitate just a touch, and almost anticipated a refusal, until her warm, soft hand slid onto his.

Kouga briefly made a disappointed, sour expression but left them to it after saying goodbye. With the newfound privacy, the woman looked up at Sesshoumaru then- eyes hardening into glaciers. He slid an arm around her waist and settled a hand at the small of her back, fangs aching painfully.

Slim fingers dug into his shoulder with surprising strength as they stared at each other until gentle, coaxing music washed over the room.

His heel turned, and then they were moving, swaying gracefully amidst the other couples.

"It is a pleasure to finally see you again," dropping the charade, his voice rolled into a purr. She felt sublime in his arms.

"I wish I could return the sentiment," Kagome's words held a frosty edge to them that caused his fangs to flash, smile widening.

"Tell me, why do I find a time travelling priestess mingling with ordinary humans tonight? You have to agree, it is a little unorthodox." He only pulled her slim waist in closer, amazed to be standing in her presence. She had form, and was tangible under his hands. He inhaled her scent and tasted the gentle scent of a flower he couldn't name. He'd dreamed of her as a distant, barely-there being. It had been so achingly long since he'd seen her last. Kagome Higurashi was such a rarity she was practically otherworldly even when he himself was considered a 'mythical being.'

The woman in his arms was certainly real as she levelled her stormy gaze at him, voice sure and strong. "I'm mingling, conducting important business. I'm sure it wasn't an innocent reason that brought you here today, vampire."

He watched as he spun her out, wild hair fanning around her.

"There is no need for hostility, it is another turn of fate that we should both here tonight under the same roof. Would it not be prudent to-"

"I refuse to share the same space with someone who would do these people harm, my apologies," she spat, yet with such melodic tones he couldn't help but want her to keep talking, even if it were only to throw insults.

"Do harm? Forgive me, but at the very least, my goal is very easy to see. I only desire blood-"

"Only?!" she burst, before lowering her voice into a hiss. It thrilled him. "You bite me once in a dark alley on the worst first night on a job ever and then get hooked- stalk me through different centuries, and have the nerve to say you 'only' want blood? It's never 'just' blood, with you."

"Indeed. I think we can agree we do a lot more than bloodsucking."

Her face turned red, "we might have used to. That was before I knew just how many people you'd murdered, Killing Perfection."

He chuckled silkily, "a thing of the past. You fear for these people, yet it is only you that I desire." Sesshoumaru moved in closer, lips brushing her ear. He felt her body shiver deliciously. "Aren't you more dangerous for the potential calamity you can bring?" he murmured, turning them in a tight spin.

"I-I can't believe your audacity! That was one time, and I never meant to mess up like that-"

"But you are always so eager to remind me of my misdeeds," he purred, large hand brushing her rib, claws twitching into the material of her dress. She could no doubt feel the pinpricks of his claws through the lace, lightly scratching her heated skin. "How is the injury?" he inquired softly, though he knew the answer since she'd were able to move so fluidly.

Kagome glanced away, complicated feelings arising in her scent. "Better. Please...you should leave."

"Why? My offer still stands."

"I left you for a reason."

"Because you were afraid."

"How dare you-"

Sesshoumaru grabbed her waist, her feet leaving the ground as he lifted her and turned. Kagome gasped, heart fluttering in his ears. Arousal plumed.

A smirk curved his lips as he set her down, "you are quite predictable in some ways."

Blue eyes sharpened, "oh really?" she raised her voice suddenly. "Help! Help!"

Sesshoumaru stiffened as the people around him turned to look at them. A few gentlemen frowned, moving to assist the 'helpless' lady as she struggled in his arms.

Releasing her, the vampire glared. "You are only buying time. I will see you later, Miss Higurashi."

Kagome sniffed, cowering back behind big strong men and covertly sticking her tongue out at him as they told him to stop upsetting the young miss.

Little brat.

Taking his leave, Sesshoumaru strode out of the ballroom into the cool night air, fangs aching. It seemed the rains had stopped.

Moving around the side of the building, he grabbed a woman standing on the outskirts of the crowd and sank starving teeth into her neck. As she moaned and writhed he imagined dark hair and sublime legs. Before draining her completely, he dragged a wet tongue, sticky with blood over the wound, closing them.

Unlike his brethren who had likely caused a stir in this area, he hunted cleanly.

And because of that damn Higurashi…

He discarded the woman, leaving her alive where he wouldn't have done before.

------

Walking down a dirt road under the light of the full moon, Kagome felt mighty lucky to have detangled herself from the 'polite society.' The men had been so eager to ride in a carriage with her. She supposed it was to be expected in this time period.

Adjusting her lace sleeve and pushing it up, she checked her digital watch. She'd done everything needed. Not much time left.

She kind of wished she'd had longer. No, Kagome shook her head. There wasn't any point in wanting to see him. It would be so much easier if he'd just let it go.

Her job wasn't easy. Time-travelling for her boss meant stealing priceless artefacts lost to time or recording history. She wasn't supposed to interfere too much. In the 1600's she'd majorly fucked up and accidentally brought the witch trials to a quaint town. They'd sought her foreign tongue and odd words, but she'd managed to escape. Other women hadn't been so lucky.

And Sesshoumaru…

He'd always been there, on every job. Like a bloodhound, he just seemed to sniff her out. It had to be a coincidence. Seemed too odd that he could happen to be in a different country, in a different century at the exact same time. He called them fated lovers, destined to be together, but getting attached with her kind of job was a huge no-no.

A bone-chilling howl slid out into the night, close. Kagome stiffened. Wolves?

Or was it worse?

Glancing around at the dark trail, she quickly hitched up her skirts and removed a gun from her holster. Hearing the distinct sound of two feet moving instead of four, Kagome tried to calm her breathing. She was a priestess and could typically use her reiki. However, this type of beast required silver bullets.

The rapid footsteps got closer and Kagome turned, firing into the darkness. Everything lay silent then.

Taking a shaky breath, she noticed she hadn't heard the collapse of a body.

A large form lunged at her out of the shadows then, snarling. The werewolf spread large jaws open, saliva flicking out from long, hungry fangs.

Kagome cried out and stumbled back, firing into his gut. Even as he wailed, it was no use, he was going to land atop her.

The pale form of a white dog collided with the two-legged beast then. They both disappeared into the darkness, snarling and ripping sounds reaching her ears.

Kagome panted, staring with wide eyes. This had been an unexpected part of the job.

Fantasy creatures.

From Youkai in Japan, to murderous unicorns in England, leprechauns in Ireland, friggin Krampus. No one had told her she'd be wrestling with a damn fairy on her night shift! This was the past, she'd expected famine, wars and dysentery, not wendigos.

The noises died down, but she yanked her gun up and pointed it when footsteps approached again. Sesshoumaru stepped out into the moon's soft light, his long jacket unstained but white poets shirt marred with blood. Kagome's muscles automatically relaxed, and she lowered the weapon.

"You should not wander alone, time traveller."

Brushing herself off, she moved to go look for her bullets. Couldn't exactly leave evidence behind- but he lifted a hand out and offered them to her.

Kagome paused. "Why are you here? I told you to leave me alone."

"I am not so easily dissuaded from what I want," he glanced away. "That dead wolf changed back into the boy you danced with…"

"Kouga. Yeah, I got an inkling. I just hoped he wouldn't try anything," sighing, she stepped closer and accepted the bullets, putting them into a pouch. "I don't have long. Maybe 15 minutes."

Blue eyes slid up to him then, deliberating. He didn't move, he would stay with her for the remainder of her time left, she knew that. It was up to her how they spent it.

"Do you know a place?" she asked softly.

Sesshoumaru smiled, curling an arm around her waist and drawing her hips against his.

In a whirl of motion, Kagome found herself lying back in hay.

Classy. She couldn't say they'd lain together in a barn yet. Least that was something off the bucket list.

Embracing him nonetheless, starving lips met. Sesshoumaru groaned into her mouth, and she felt him already hard and ready between her thighs.

Perhaps to an outsider, it made no sense. They made no sense. She'd tried so hard to push him away but every time like a bad habit they'd end up this way.

It wasn't just because of what he'd done, either that she tried to resist. The killing had frightened her, yes, but a part of Kagome sought to protect them both. Him, waiting for her for so long couldn't be fair to him. It felt like she abandoned Sesshoumaru anew with each job.

Hitching her legs around his waist and mewing, the hay rustled as he yanked her stockings down and teased her. Kagome bit the shell of his round ear, shuddering.

"Drop the glamour," she breathed.

He obliged, dark hair, eyes and inviting features sliding off him like water. Long white locks splayed around him like spun silver threads. Two molten gold eyes smiled down at her like setting suns. Thin lips peeled back to reveal fangs, and he lunged- sinking them into her neck.

Kagome gasped and arched into him, feeling an ache between her thighs that she tried to alleviate by rutting against him like a needy animal.

Sesshoumaru drank her blood, panting, while Kagome reached down and freed his length, stroking. He groaned into her neck, chuckling and collecting her blood onto his tongue, swallowing and savouring the taste with relish like it were the finest chocolate.

"Having some trouble?" He teased in a velvety voice, bottom lip stained red.

Kagome huffed, "put it in already, we don't have time for you to be messing around-ah!"

His hips lunged forward, practically impaling her on his cock.

Kagome cried out, toes curling as he grunted, curling a hand into her hair and starting to move his hips in a languid pace, taking his time. "You cling to me so fiercely," he chuckled.

"Stop teasing," she panted, adjusting to his size. It didn't take long, her body knew him intimately well by now.

"Move your hips more," Sesshoumaru uttered, biting her collarbone. "Let me see your body ache to keep me in," he thrust shallowly.

Growling, Kagome shifted her hips, fingers clawing at his shoulders to keep him locked to her. How shameless and humiliating to beg. She didn't care though.

"Just- hah- do it��"

He gives a jagged smirk, animal eyes gleaming red. "But dear one," he groaned, holding her under her thighs and parting them wider to look down between them. "Do you not think you look delicious, moving against me? See how you greedily urge me deeper," giving a sharp thrust, he watched his cock sink inside slick folds deeper with rapt, arrogant pride.

Kagome snarled and dragged his head down via her hands on his cheeks, pressing her mouth to his. "Fuck me, Sesshoumaru, please!" she gritted out.

Sesshoumaru gave a low rumble of pleasure, tipping his head slightly into her touch and snapping his hips harder. "Hah- good. That is all I wanted to hear," he muttered, shoving her down hard and starting to move with wild abandon.

Kagome could do nothing but cling on, tilting her head back and feeling her body jolt like a rag doll as he fucked her. Obscene noises filled the cold air of the barn. It smelled like livestock, petrichor and other outdoors things, so she nuzzled into his damp neck, inhaling the rich smell of unknown tobacco, the copper of blood and decadence.

When they finished with long, quivering groans, they clung to each other long after the deed was done. Kagome panted, stroking twitching fingers through his hair as she felt him pool inside her.

"You couldn't have-" she swallowed, catching her breath. "Found somewhere nicer?"

"It is… hah...your fault for running from me in the first place. We could have enjoyed an evening of this in my hotel."

"I had to do my job and you would've distracted me," she muttered, closing her eyes. "You always do."

Sesshoumaru kissed her chest, making a dusty noise as she stroked his pointed ear. "I endeavour to keep being a… distraction, miss Higurashi."

Kagome sighed, "we've gone over this."

"Indeed, so do not waste your breath." His grip was tight on her hand, voice sharp.

A small beeping noise blared out from her watch. Kagome lay still beneath him.

Golden eyes gentled. "Where will you be next?"

"50 years into the past from now."

"Ah, I remember. You did seem calmer in our last meeting. Perhaps our time together today has… soothed any anxieties, priestess?"

Kagome squirmed out from beneath him and adjusted her skirts, picking out some hay from her hair. "I dunno," she murmured. "Nothing has changed."

We shouldn't do this.

Cold lips dragged across the nape of her neck, claws on her hips. "You are mine, Kagome. You will continue to be mine. I will reach your original time one day, and then you will not escape. I will turn you."

Kagome glanced at him over her shoulder, "Mhm. If you survive to then, I feel like you'd have done that by now, buster."

"I am most likely biding my time, for what I am unsure. Perhaps I anticipate the day you admit your love," he smirked.

Unable to ignore the beeping watch anymore, warning of a countdown, Kagome pressed a button that started coursing red static over her body. "Don't hold your breath, vampire," she said quietly.

Sesshoumaru felt her squeeze his hand, reluctance flashing in her eyes. And this was why. This was why he'd pursue her.

Because she asked him to, in the smallest, most silent of ways.

Kagome disappeared within the static, leaving him alone, blood smeared on his mouth, clothes rumpled and hay sticking in his fine hair.

Sesshoumaru brushed a hand over his mouth, licking at his chin to taste the remains of her on his skin. His blood heated, breath shuddering. Golden eyes flashed red.

"I will find you again."

End

#sesskag #skw2020 #sesskagweek2020 #Sesshoumaru #Kagome Higurashi #Inuyasha #Sesshoumaru x Kagome

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pixelzprince · 3 years

Text

Circuit - Lore Fic

FINALLY!! This lore fic has been about two weeks in the making now, and finally we can post it!

It’s a bit of backstory regarding Incandescent and Chill (and Wolvesbane, a bit) and the misadventures the thrill-seeking young dragons in the Hewn City get up to - basically an excuse to write a bunch of headcanons for the Shade. And let’s just say, when the most cursed city in an entire Flight territory is way more saturated with magic than usual.. something’s bound to go horribly wrong.

Warnings: Some mild horror themes, unreality/slight derealization/existential crisis stuff, you know. We’re dealing with the 10% More Eldritch Shade here after all. Also, mentions/implications of bullying, eugh.

Probably the darkest thing we’ll actually write out in our character lore, to be honest though things get better after this, it’s just a Not So Pleasant inciting incident-

With that out of the way, onto the show!

"So it's like, a ghost-themed biking group?" Chill had asked on the way to the venue. "Sounds.. kinda forced to me, to be honest."

His neon friend let out a poorly stifled guffaw, briefly lifting a claw from the handles of her bike to hide her grin. "I don't think you're in any position to say that, Mister 80s band tees."

Chill frowned, clinging a bit tighter to Ink's shoulders as they zoomed through the night aboard the latter's tricked out three wheeler bike; Incandescent's parents hadn't allowed her to get a proper motorcycle, and all Chill had was his old mountain bike, though the Mirror couldn't truthfully say he felt all that safe clinging to the spiny shoulders of a Banescale for dear life on a vehicle meant for one.

Thus, he'd urged her to drive as slowly and carefully (the damage to his "coolness" didn't go unnoticed) as she could manage given her high octane lifestyle - giving them much time to talk on the trip. Plenty of time to sling banter and waste breath meant for more valuable discussions.

"Right, so... you really capitalize on that Halloween aesthetic?" Chill tried again, wording his question carefully to dodge Ink's edgy defenses; for how nice his friend could be, she was like a spring-loaded trap full of retorts ready to snap given the right ammunition. "Everyone thinks you're some sorta cult, but it's just for the rep, right..?"

Ink quirked a wry grin, teeth glinting in the low lights of the city. "Something like that." Her spines rattled with something akin to excitement, making Chill quietly yelp and adjust in the seat to avoid getting skewered. "Reputation's power, right?"

Chill fought the conditioned urge to shoot some witty sarcasm back, though his contemplation was interrupted as the bike came to an abrupt halt, worsened by the sudden prickling of scales against his arms.

"We're here," Ink supplied.

She slid off the bike, radiant scales glistening in the neon lights of the shopping center. Chill barely caught the discarded helmet slung at him, the weight smacking against his chest and knocking the air out of him. He called after her as he fumbled, "Heavy helmet for a hard head!"

Ink gave no indication that she'd heard him, merely striding off towards the parking lot of a nearby pizza place. Chill frowned, disappointed in the lack of acknowledgement. He shook his head as if to rid himself of the childish irritation, before hesitantly beginning to follow Ink.

He kept his head held low, eyes shifting around to observe the creeping murk of the city's almost unnatural darkness; even at only dusk, even with the piercing glow of dozens of light sources (the motorbikes' custom lights, the LED of the storefronts, the subtle hues of his own luminous capsule trait, his overwhelmed mind rattled off) the Hewn City's oppressive night seemed to leech as much warmth and luminescence as it could.

And this was Light territory; a shudder went through Chill as he dared to imagine what Shadow or Ice's expanses looked like at night, away from most sources of radiance.

Slinking past an unrelated crowd congregated by the road (they smelled of pizza, sweat, and ozone, probably some sports team, ugh), the Mirror soon reached his destination, a small group of dragons around his age, some younger, all gathered in the darkest corner of the parking lot.

How convenient.

Some were lazily leaned against their bikes as makeshift lounges, while others stood almost like guards, alert and scanning the area. Chill caught the eye of one of the latter category, a Nocturne with strikingly patterned scales. Their eyes widened as their gazes met, before they scowled and turned away slightly. They muttered something to their companion, a rather anxious looking Fae who was half coiled by the tail around a metal-studded bike just a tad too big for them. The Fae looked almost as out of place as Chill, wearing a brightly patterned hoodie and trying to look tough, though the amusing juxtaposition did little to reassure him.

Just what kind of crowd was this-?

Ink tugged him over, draping an arm over his shoulder in a gesture that, outwardly, may have seemed protective. Chill frowned and glanced up to see the mischievous, "I'm dragging you into shenanigans" grin that betrayed otherwise. He wilted under her conniving gaze, silently resigning himself to whatever hazing or crimes this so-called "biking club" had in mind.

Vandalism? Petty crime? He couldn't say he was up for it, himself, but he hoped whatever the group of off-kilter rebels had planned would at least be fun in the moment. Anything but bike racing, at least...

The wind began to pick up a bit, drowning out some of the quieter chatter around him. He allowed himself to relax, if only a tad bit; perhaps they were just.. hanging out. Loitering was a crime in some places, right? Passive crime, "safe" crime. Chill, figuring that the others had no interest in hanging out with him, distracted himself by counting the treasure in his pockets, wondering if he had enough to get himself a slice of pie. He may have been half Fae, but anyone, enhanced Mirror senses or not, could smell the thick, syrupy scent of apple cobbler wafting through the air from the pizza place.

It was all... so passive. Boring, but pleasant.

Of course, something had to give.

After what seemed like ages of tense stillness, Ink spoke up suddenly, her voice rumbling like a foreboding storm cloud, which Chill felt from where he was currently hugged to her side. Of course, the calm before the storm was over.

Despite everything, her voice was a tad comforting, a familiar sort of "danger" instead of the alarm bells that had initially screamed from every other corner of this place. Chill clung to her subconsciously, glaring out at the others and trying to tune out whatever was said, to just focus on the pure tone... dissociate into the void, or however the halfhearted joke went.

Despite his efforts, a few words slipped by, "Summoning" and "power" and whatnot. Part of the ghost gimmick, he assumed. He shuddered from the sudden, brisk breeze that whipped by, though instead of being hugged closer, he was abruptly shoved towards the center of the crowd.

A yelp escaped him as he stumbled to regain his bearings, his claws painfully catching on some uneven pieces of concrete. He hissed, swaying, before he glanced around to see what he'd missed in his half-attentive musings.

When had they formed an actually cohesive circle..? And around him specifically..? He looked back at Ink for explanation, though she averted her gaze. The wind rushed by, now deafening. It'd picked up unnaturally quickly, and Chill soon located its source, a growl ripping from his throat as he once again met the eyes of the Nocturne.

Airborne Parchment?! Where would they get something like that? Instead of using the windbound material for its intended purpose of bringing life to drawn objects, the supposed leader of the group was merely willing forth elemental gales of wind into existence. They didn't seem to have much hold over it, but control wasn't the intention, merely... power.

"What are you doing?!" Chill hollered. He snapped out of his stupor, storming towards the amateur spellslinger. Their eyes seemed to widen a fraction, perhaps in shock, though before more words could be exchanged, their previously awkward Fae companion leapt into action, shooting forth and headbutting Chill right in the stomach.

It wasn't a very hard hit, rather a precise one. Capsule dragons were known for their vulnerable stomach area, and sure enough, Chill reeled back, hardly able to prevent himself from crumpling to his knees back in the center of the circle. He was freezing and burning all at the same time, battered by brisk winds and the uneasy sort of thrum that rippled through the earth itself.

And yet, finally, through the gale, voices rang true. "We've never done this before, true.." It was a tinny, raspy voice that grated on Chill's ears. "But but but!! Someone naïve was needed to call forth the Shade. Call forth, not use as a vessel. He won't be hurt."

"So he's the flippin bait you mean?! Can it with the sugarcoat." A painful shockwave rattled Chill's senses as Ink screamed from somewhere above him. "And you've never done this before? He's a test dummy if anything-"

Her hands are blazing with light, undoubtedly, as she growled, "You said you knew what you were doing."

"Silence," a third, cool voice intercepted. It reverberated much stronger than the rest. "It has already begun. The artifact will draw the Shade near."

The Shade?

Chill's eyes stung as he forced them open, and he instantly regretted it. His surroundings were awash with too-bright colors, the dragons around him more like blobs of light against the pitch of his surroundings. Alarms blared in the back of his disoriented brain, and he bared his teeth, trying to stand. His claws uselessly scrabbled against the suddenly slick concrete for some purchase, and by the time he managed to stand, he could faintly see something somehow darker than the existing murk rising from the cracks.

Liquid dripping upward, unburdened by the constraints of reality.

And all fell silent, as if the world itself paused to gaze into the void.

He watched it for a moment, himself, mesmerized by its headache-inducing, impossible blackness. It swayed in an inviting, inquisitive manner, hardly blotting out the dull panic slowly igniting in the Mirror's bones. Only the very edges of its fluid form seemed to reflect light, almost like a cartoonish outline that barely detracted from how otherworldly the substance was.

The Shade..

A quiet, almost breathless whisper shook the stillness, "It worked..."

And Chill's world exploded into white hot pain, impossible fireworks set aflame behind his eyes.

~~~~~

A pulse. A pain. A thrum of negative power.

A shockwave cuts through the souls of all in the crowd, invasive and calculating and yet erratic all the same. Wild to their perception and coiling and thriving with an intelligence beyond this world. It.. analyzes them, down to the core, samples their magic and minds, and then it's gone.

The all-encompassing murk seems to draw in all light like an amorphous black hole. It's fluid and yet like plasma, burning and freezing, hollow and yet dense. It moves with a weight that's not quite physical, though fearsome and ancient all the same. Though as soon as the display of eldritch un-energy begins, it stills, settles, coalesces in the center of the circle in a more manageable form.

The summoning worked... or so they'd thought.

The Nocturne stares, captivated. The now useless parchment drops limply from their claws as they breathe, "Oh... Lightweaver.."

Ink breaks the stillness with a snarl, "Orbit!" and in an instant, the Banescale's upon the summoner, a tangle of claws and spikes and conflict. The summoner has no chance to react, the air knocked out of them as Incandescent crushes them prone to the ground and screams in their face, "What did you DO-"

They manage to whisper, "The summoning worked," though their heart's not in it. They cast a forlorn gaze towards the semi-solid insubstantiality. Their poor artifact, perfectly crafted to contain traces of the Shade... lost to this blunder. "At a cost..."

The sentiment sends Ink hysterical. "At a cost?" She devolves into wordless screams, all fight leaving her as she weakly shakes Orbit, who stares into the tearful gaze hollowly. Others break from their frozen state to attempt to break up the fight, life and energy, albeit a tense sort, flooding back.

Life cannot be paused for long, after all. The elements, however dimmed they may be, quickly resume their presence.

Ignoring the halfhearted tussle, the Fae from before hops down from his perch, silently striding past the "fight". His palms flare with magic, bright and cold and merciless, matching the shine of his eyes. Gone is the awkwardness, even in the face of the Shade itself.

The insubstantiality, which has collected into the form of the Mirror that it claimed, raises its "head" slowly, shakily in a false show of weakness. Its eyes, the only spots of light on it, blaze like searchlights, betraying its true strength.

The Fae speaks, that raspy tone adding a hint of menace to his words, "A failure.. another failure." He bares his teeth and snarls, "An expensive failure."

Another? The impossibly lightless plasma inches back, fan-like crests pinning back as it gazes into the wild eyes of disappointment and scorn. The Shade does not know fear... but all this creature knows is the impulse of fight or flight humming in its hollow core.

Something akin to a heartbeat pulses in its "chest". Quick, fearful, hardly present. Move, flee.

The fighting's died down, Ink dragged away from Orbit's huddled and silent form, and all the Banescale does is scream into the sky, into the speckled night. Yet the darkness she screams at is nowhere near the impossibility of the Shade which has claimed her friend.

Fear. The heartbeat stutters. Run.

Elemental ice, wicked and glowing, freezes the spot where the being had been mere moments before. The Fae spits a venomous string of blights, at the summoning, at the lost artifact, at the waste of time. But the residual darkness staining the ground isn't the Shade he'd aimed to erase.

It's already long gone, fleeing through the gaps of reality itself, through the tear from which it arrived.

~~~~~

Find safety.

Get out of there. Away. Far away.

But where..?

~~~~~

The fragment of Shade rematerializes in the subway. From the darkness itself, it's ejected, the ambient Shadow element of this world rejecting its unnatural presence and leaving it to sizzle in the fluorescent, buzzing lights of the few operational signs in this district.

And yet, it relaxes, collapsing shockingly solidly upon the cold, smooth pavement.

It's silent for once, the normal hustle and bustle of the city having been driven out by recent damages done to this railway. Even the usual stragglers, kids like Ink's club, who normally loiter around the "spooky abandoned subway" for kicks have long since either gone home or to the park to camp out.

Not even the most daring of delinquents would test their luck napping in the hollow depths of the earth. Not in Light territory, especially.

They say Light, for all its pristine brightness, hides something eldritch. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows after all.

Perhaps, this is that something.

With that thought, the insubstantiality lets out a cry.

Get to safety. Hide.

It manages to stand, first shakily onto all fours, then to its hind legs. It limps towards the darkest corner, baking in the light, before it stumbles and trips to its knees again, gasping. The air passes through it, not that it needs to breathe; nonetheless, it curls up and forces itself to inhale and exhale, if only to replicate the life that it'd sensed all around it just minutes before.

Breathe.

It scrabbles at its chest its claws finding little purchase in the slick, incorporeal material making up its form. Frictionless, there's no way to scratch through to tear out the artifact inside, now bound to its metaphorical core.

It’s alive. ALIVE.

Yet the mere contact sends it reeling, light shimmering from within and just barely reflecting off its body, enough to outline its limbs among the tangled darkness, to give some definition to its form.

It’s… I’m real. I'm alive. I'm real.

The tentative balance of energy and nothingness snaps, allows life to win over, if only slightly. He remembers, his eyes glowing not with a pure, absent white like before, but with a blend of violet and fiery hues, a rapidly shifting twilight twinkling in his gaze.

Time releases a breath it'd been holding since the threads of reality first snapped.

They'd summoned The Shade, of all things. They'd tethered it to an artifact, which had tethered itself to him. He could still, if only faintly, feel his own magic humming beneath the oppressive gloom which coated (comprised?) his form, but it was.. contaminated, thoroughly so.

His poor excuse for a heart thumped once more, only seeming to beat prominently when he was struck with powerful emotion. He held his paws to his chest, focusing on that sound, willing it to continue, to prove he was still of the living realm.

Yet the heartbeat stilled soon enough, merely the erratic pulsing of a cursed artifact attempting to keep the Shade in check. To keep things in balance, in control.

The altruistic part of him was glad that such an artifact was now useless to that group. With such potential, to control even a piece of an otherworldly horror... he didn't even want to imagine what it could be used to bring about.

Petty crimes, he at least hoped. Petty crimes deluxe edition, don't get caught.

A bitter laugh escaped him, distorted and crumbling in the umbra. No need to worry about crimes now, at least. Their power... it was his now... it was him now.

Or perhaps he was its.

He waved a claw, watched it seem to flicker as if already cutting through atoms in the air with a single gesture, leaving smoky afterimages behind.

As the memories of the past thirty or so minutes flooded back, he realized, he can do just that, he has done just that, slipped out of the physical plane and just moved, perhaps faster than light for a moment, even.

So that's what teleportation really was.

The childish part of him would've relished in the idea of obtaining cosmic power, like some sort of superhero, though he knows better. His own magic fights constantly within, a storm of elemental energy caught in an endless cycle of extinguishing and reignition, with the artifact in the center, regulating it all.

He's no superhero, and this is no origin story.

He stared at the high, arching ceilings, at the darkness that would've once strained even his Shadow element eyes.

He's no superhero... he's just a circuit.

#flight rising #fluffyfics #body horror tw #unreality tw #horror warning #FluffyCharas #Chill Fallenleaf #Orbit #Ink Shimmer #Wolvesbane #angst cw #//just in case//#//it's not that bad we're just tagging everything for caution//#Shadow Officiants #Clanless #Hewn City

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jonathananubian · 4 years

Text

Te Dralyc Kar 8 [Star Wars Fanfic]

Synopsis:

Jango isn’t quite sure how he came to adopt a blonde slave boy after a job on Tatooine went sideways, but he honestly couldn’t complain. The boy is a little genius, brimming with compassion and a willingness to learn. The only hiccup, as far as Jango is concerned, is the fact that his boy is a naturally powerful force user. Someone the jetii would want to get their hands on.

Of course- he’d just like to see them try.

[This story isn’t linear. More like a series of snapshots. At least until later chapters.]

Keldabe. He hadn’t been back to the capitol city for years. The familiar sights and sounds made him ache deep in his core as he watched Mando’ade going about their daily business among the crowded streets. At his side, hand held firmly in his own, Anakin stared at everything in excited awe, pointing at things and asking him questions in a mix of Basic, Huttese, Ryl, and Mando’a that was almost too fast to translate.

Stopping by one of the many food vendors he grabbed two skewers of cooked meat and a small bag of spiced candies. Anakin took the skewer and thanked the vendor in Mando’a before biting into it. Thankfully the boy’s home planet hadn’t been been particularly fussy about food and his son could practically eat anything. Including insects, which was a bit disturbing but at least it was a good survival skill.

When they were finished they stopped by a fountain and he wet a handkerchief to clean the boy’s hands. “This is a cinnamon sweet. It’s a little spicy. Would you like to try it?” The boy nodded eagerly and opened his hand for one. Jango chuckled and gave him one of the fiery hard candies to suck on. Popping one in his own mouth he slipped the sweets into a pouch on his belt before taking Anakin’s hand once more. They had a ways to walk yet before they came to his favourite inn. He had stayed at the Tranyc Vhetin many times, both with his buir and alone after the man had died on Korda VI.

Coming into the cozy building he felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. Anakin looked up at him, blue eyes sharp, and hugged his waist. Of course his little Ka’runi would sense how off kilter he was. Even Partra had admitted the boy was the brightest soul he’d ever felt, and the jetii from the diner had to have felt something seeing as he had tried to ask whether or not his son had been ‘tested.’ Jango didn’t want to know how the jetii tested kids. It’d probably just piss him off to know.

“Solus yamika par gar bal gar ad?” ‘One room for you and your child?’ The staff member at the desk asked, looking between he and his son with a small smile.

“Elek, vor’e.” ‘Yes, thank you.’ Anakin practically bounced up the stairs once they were given a key, making Jango chuckle in amusement.

On the second floor his son was examining the doors, his face scrunched slightly as he tried to remember how to differentiate between the different numbers in Mandalorian Script. Finding their room he opened the door and let the two of them inside. Closing and locking the door behind him he slipped his bucket back off and set it down on the small table near the door. Anakin ran over to the window and drew the curtains, letting in the light. Opening the window he looked out over the street at the colorful banners flapping in the breeze.

“Kandosii!” ‘Wicked!’ Jango let out a low chuckle and went about checking the room for anything potentially dangerous. Not that he believed the innkeepers would have bugged the room or anything like that, but it always paid to be prepared.

Sitting at the small table he watched Anakin dropping his kit bag on the smaller of the two beds and rummage through it. Pulling out his small amenities bag he went to put them in the fresher, exclaiming in surprise when he saw the actual washing tub in the antique style room. “Buir? What’s this for?” He asked, poking his head out.

“It’s a washing tub. You fill it with water and bathe in it. We used to have one on the farm where I grew up. Buir would wash our clothes in it during the cold season.” The emotions associated with the memories of his younger days had dulled over time but he could still feel that burning sadness and anger in his core. So many of those he cared about had been taken away from him…

“Buir?” He looked down at his son, who stood there with an understanding look in his liquid blue eyes. “I’m sorry you’re sad. I know I can’t make it go away. But I can give you a hug?” Smiling he opened his arms for his boy and let out a shaky breath.

“Sadness is a part of life, An’ika. It will fade with time but it never really goes away.” The boy made a thoughtful noise.

“Why do we have to feel sad?” Jango frowned. His kid was too young to keep asking all these philosophical questions, his genius be damned. But it was the nature of children to be curious.

“If we never felt sad then the times we’re happy wouldn’t feel as special. Everyone has happy and sad times, An’ika. It helps shape who we are.” He pulled back and looked down at his son. “But we’ll talk more about that another day. Just because we’re not on the ship doesn’t mean you can skip training or meditation. Get changed.” The blonde gave him a small pout.

“Aw, okay.”

[Anakin]

Walking with his father through the busy streets he couldn’t help but be reminded a little of Tatooine. The district they were in now was called Mayen Goyust, or Anything Road. It was where his dad said they could find all sorts of cool things. From weapons to new clothes, jewelry, and even toys! Everywhere they went his dad seemed to attract attention. They kept looking at his face, then his armor, then his face again. A lot of the time there would be a sense of recognition before the other feelings would come.

Fear, anger, dread, relief, joy, hope. So many and they just kept coming. He heard the whispers behind them as they passed and soon he could feel their focus shift from his dad to him. It was really uncomfortable. “Buir…” He mumbled, tightening his hold on his dad’s hand and stepping closer to him shyly. Like all the other times his dad felt protective and unnerved he quickly scooped Anakin up into his arms and began walking faster toward whatever the location of his mission was.

They came up to a building that felt really, really, old and Anakin couldn’t help but to stare as they walked right in without stopping. Wherever this was his dad felt like he belonged there.

Inside the building it smelled like heavy spices and ale. Sitting at the tables were men and women wearing armor a lot like his dad’s. But theirs was all painted while his dad’s was all silver. He wondered if his dad would paint it. In his vision his own armor was always black and blue with red accents. His dad still hadn’t told him what all the colors meant yet. Apparently the meaning changed depending on clan.

Setting him down his dad took a seat at a table and motioned someone over. A woman in tunics cut like the people outside hurried over with a smile, although she felt jumpy on the inside. “Su’cuy gar jatne’vode! Me’copaani?”

“Tiingilar, ne’tra gal, shig, bal ibi’tuur vutyc par ner ad.” Anakin understood a few of the words and waited patiently until the woman walked away.

Taking a deep breath he was about to ask questions when his dad grinned at him. “Tiingilar is a very spicy dish, made with meat, grains, and vegetables. Ne’tra gal is black ale, something you can’t have until you’re much older. Ibi’tuur vutcy is the day’s special. Just like at Dex’s.” Letting out a huff he pouted as his dad anticipated all of his questions and answered them rapidly. The man had the gall to laugh at him. “We’ll have to set aside some more joha hibirar’la.” ‘Language lessons.’ Anakin nodded excitedly. He loved learning Mando’a. It was the first language he wanted to learn by choice, rather than necessity. Since his dad spoke perfect Basic and was really good at Huttese they had no trouble communicating. But Mando’a was something they could share between them and that made it special.

“Can I try your tin-tiinga-tiingilar?” His dad ruffled his hair.

“Sure you can, kiddo. But it’s even more spicy than the cinnamon sweet from earlier.” Anakin made a face. He’d liked the bright red candy at first. But the more he sucked on it the more spicy it became. Eventually he’d complained to his dad, who laughed, and had him spit it out into a handkerchief. Then his dad bought him a small iced milk treat to make up for the spiciness.

“…maybe I won’t try it today.” His father’s face split into a mischievous smile and he could feel the man’s bright amusement in the force. He stuck his tongue out at him and his dad barked out a laugh. It was rare his dad actually laughed, usually he just smiled or chuckled. Anakin counted this as his win.

“Cuyir ibac tion'ad ni mirdir bic cuyir?” A wave of strong emotions ran through his dad when the man looked over his shoulder, before his presence suddenly became as smooth as beskar. His hands twitched towards his blasters for a moment but he stopped, clenching them instead.

“Vizla.” Anakin shivered at the anger he could hear dripping from his dad’s voice. Everyone in the tapcaf was watching the two men warily, ready for a fight to break out.

“Yaimparla teh kyr’am, Jango Fett?” The man who felt like cold fire turned to look at him and Anakin froze in place. Maybe if he didn’t move the man wouldn’t notice him? “Tion’ad adiik? Gar?” Growling his dad stood up from his chair, knocking it back onto the floor.

“Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?” His dad spat the words like venom and Anakin ducked his head, scared. His dad glanced back at him and slowly let out a breath. The brimming anger in the air lessened and his dad picked up his chair to right it again, never turning his back on the man who felt like cold fire. “Digur bic. Ba’slanar, Vizla. Ni nu'copad at haa'taylir gar troan.” Pointedly turning around his dad sat back down, giving Anakin a complicated look.

“Hut’uun.” ‘Coward.’ The bad man said from behind them. Anakin stood up on his chair and glared at the man.

“Nayc! Buir cuyir ne’hut’uun! Tun otaf’alkin!” ‘No! Dad is not a coward! You cave butcher!’ He shouted in a mix of Mando’a and Ryl. Around the room objects rattled on tables and the wall, some items falling to the floor as his control began to slip.

The man scowled at him and took a step forward, only to be stopped as others stood from their seats in response. His dad grabbed him and pulled him into his lap, hiding him from the cold-fire man with shaking hands. Anakin’s anger evaporated and he quickly snuggled into his father’s hold, not wanting to cause him any more grief.

“Ba’slanar, Vizla. Jii.” ‘Leave, Vizla. Now.’ Anakin peeked over his father’s shoulder as the bad man left with the people who came in with him.

One of the armored warriors came over to them slowly, making sure to walk where his father could see them. “Me’vaar Jan’ika?” ‘You okay Jan’ika?’ His dad looked up at the man, eyes searching, before he nodded curtly.

[Jango]

Holding his son to him Jango had to breathe deeply to keep from getting up, following Vizla out into the street, and shooting him in the back of the head. If it weren’t for Anakin being there he very well may have lost his mind to anger and fought the rotten bastard to the death right then. He knew that Vizla had no honor and now the man knew he had a vulnerable son. He wouldn’t put it past the bastard to target a child if it helped him achieve his goals.

“Are you okay Jan’ika?” Looking into the speaker’s eyes he recognized Kadaab Egress, a Clan who had chosen to follow Jaster’s codex. He nodded, unsure if he could speak without his voice shaking. It was not fear or cowardice he struggled with at the moment, but his sheer overpowering hatred for anyone wearing Vizla’s colors. He hadn’t even recognized the young man, just the armor he wore.

Jango didn’t want to subject his son to that hatred. He knew what happened to Ka’runi when hatred became their only focus. He never wanted to see Anakin become like that. It would break his heart.

“Buir? I’m sorry. I got mad and yelled… and moved stuff again.” Kadaab looked between the boy and the frames that had fallen off the wall. His eyes widened with understanding.

“Jan’ika.” He looked back at the older man. “Protecting your child does not make you a coward. Vizla’s full of it, and everyone who matters knows it.” Jango felt tension bleed out of him as he looked around the room and was met with understanding. Nearly everyone there had been or currently was a parent. Jango swallowed a lump in his throat.

“Thank you.” Now that things were calming down the old woman from the back came to their table and set down their food. “Thank you, Ati’ba.” Jango said sincerely as he settled Anakin back in his own seat. The old woman smiled at him, winked at Anakin, and shuffled off back to the kitchen.

Anakin watched the old woman go, transfixed, until she vanished into the back. Then he turned to Jango, eyes as wide as saucers. “Buir! I think that old lady is a ghost!” Chuckles erupted around them and Kadaab snorted in amusement.

“Don’t worry about it, child.” The man said as he returned to his own table. Jango took a sip of his ale and smiled. His reaction had been much the same as Anakin’s back in the day.

Watching his son digging into the fish and rice dish that had been brought out to him Jango felt the last of his anger melt away. He had made the right decision not to engage Vizla. That bastard’s time would come. Right now Jango had more important things to do.

Mando’a: Su’cuy gar jatne’vode! Me’copaani?- Hello Sirs! What would you like? Tiingilar, ne’tra gal, shig, bal ibi’tuur vutyc par ner ad- Tiingilar, black ale, shig, and today’s special for my child. Cuyir ibac tion'ad ni mirdir bic cuyir?- Is that who I think it is? Yaimparla teh kyr’am, Jango Fett?- Back from the dead, Jango Fett? Tion’ad adiik? Gar?- Whose child is that? Yours? Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?- You want a smack to the face, mate? Digur bic. Ba’slanar, Vizla.- Forget it. Leave, Vizla. Ni nu'copad at haa'taylir gar troan- I don’t want to see your face. Otaf’alkin!- (Ryl) A reptilian predator native to Ryloth and found deep in the underground caverns, the name literally means “cave butcher.” It is also used as an insult to indicate one who kills without remorse, as if they were a heartless animal.

#fanfic #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars #jango fett #young anakin skywalker #adoption #mandalorian culture #mandalorian anakin #True Mandalorians #mandalorian ocs #found family #keldabe #mandalore #mando'a

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evakuality · 4 years

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Basorexia, Davenzi🌸

Dear anon, I’m sorry this has taken so long. Writing hasn’t been easy for me lately, but here it is finally. It’s not quite what I originally imagined when I got this prompt, and it’s quite a bit longer than I thought it would be, but I hope you enjoy it!

It happens more often than it probably should, the desire to just grab Matteo, haul him in and kiss him senseless. It’s something of a problem, if David is honest with himself. Not that he likes to be. Honest, that is. Because the deeply sensible part of him says that he should stay aloof, hold himself apart and stay the fuck away from this boy. But that part of him has always been a little bit of a helpless romantic, and it thrilled to whatever it sensed in Matteo and allowed the much more reckless part to emerge. The part that really does want to kiss Matteo, and doesn’t much care about the parts that have a degree of self preservation.

The first time it had happened, that urge to pull Matteo in and kiss him, David had been taken aback and it had made him tetchy and aloof. Matteo had invited him to smoke with him rather than going into the room where all the Abi prank planning was going on. His excuse had been terrible. Something about holding hands and “if you’re into that,” with a heavy suggestion that being ‘into that’ was not a good thing, and David had been captivated by the surety in his voice. Not to mention that this was the boy who’d knocked him off kilter just a few days earlier by doing nothing more than passing him in the hallway. David should have known then that he was playing a dangerous game. But no. He’d had to go and fall into those eyes and follow Matteo like the already-besotted little idiot he was.

And then … well, then Matteo had the plain audacity to show a vulnerable side. He’d leaned his head against the wall and sighed as he blew smoke out and shared some of the things that seemed to matter most to him. That’s when the damn feeling had swept over David, pummeling him over and over and around and around and he’d wanted. Wanted to touch, wanted to hold, wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss. So he’d pulled himself back, tried to push the overwhelming feelings away, but it hadn’t worked and he’d unfortunately ended up falling deeper and deeper into this thing he was feeling. Then she’d come along. Sara. And she’d kissed Matteo, just a small one, gentle and a little possessive. And David had been consumed with jealousy. Because he’d wanted that. He’d wanted to do the kissing.

That should have been the end of it. David should have known to stay the fuck away just like he’d already told himself. But he couldn’t. Matteo wouldn’t let him; Matteo had turned up in David’s orbit far too often for him to be able to listen to his rational side. And every time they met, that feeling had welled up again. The urge to kiss and kiss and never let go. In corridor after corridor. On a bus. At various points all over the school. And no matter how much David had told himself he should stay away, no matter how often he’d claimed that all he wanted was a couple of friendships that lasted just long enough to get him through the rest of the year. No matter how much any of that had intruded, David could never make himself do what he had to do when Matteo was there. Not even Sara. One of the people who’d first befriended him. He couldn’t do this to her, shouldn’t do this to her. And yet, every time David had seen Matteo those feelings would sweep in again and take him over and there he’d been again, a helpless mess, putty in the hands of someone who didn’t even really know the power he had.

There were parts of David that had tried to keep him on the right track, that had tried to make him use his damn brain when he was in the same space as Matteo. Parts of him that had told him he should just avoid him if this was going to keep happening. But that was never easy, not when Matteo would approach him with that open, wide eyed look on his face. Not when Matteo was making it obvious that whatever had started happening meant something to him. Not when Matteo had said things like, “I’m having a party” and it had been clear that when he said David could come if he wanted to, he’d really meant he wanted David to come. And David had never been able to deny him when he was right there in front of him. That had always been the curse of Matteo’s stupid vulnerable face and his fragility, of the way he’d looked when he’d opened to David and relaxed as they’d talked and made and ate revolting sandwiches. The way that had stuck in David’s mind and made him want even more than before.

So that all means he’s here, in Matteo’s own home, music thumping around him as he has his arm wrapped around Laura for support and his eyes are drifting towards Matteo more often than he ever really intends. In the middle of the party, Sara’s a messy drunk, bouncing from person to person with Leonie a grim, annoyed chaperone following her as she slops her way around the room. Matteo’s not near her, which makes very little sense to David when they’re supposedly together. He’s standing by the walls, looking awkward and ill at ease in his own home. And it takes all of David’s willpower to stay somewhere as far from Matteo as he can, to not go over and soothe that look off his face, because this isn’t the Matteo David remembers from a week ago and it feels wrong that he’s like this here.

Laura’s eyes are constantly on him, though, and her smile holds a hint of amusement as she watches David. It’s enough to enable him to keep his distance. Her knowing looks and pointed smirks are a small pinpoint in the evening, enough to ground David. Enough to keep him away from the one person he really wants to wrap himself up in, the person it’s becoming increasingly hard to stay away from because all David wants is to draw him into their own bubble again. The person he wants to drown in, to have the rights to kiss the way Sara had, small and quiet and possessive. The person he really should be resisting.

But then Laura goes to talk to Matteo and David can see the small confusion on his face as he looks at her, and he has to tear his eyes away in case she’s saying something embarrassing. Because he knows all the stupid things he’s poured out to her over the last couple of weeks, and he knows the sort of things she could be saying in her usual direct way. Not that she would, surely. Not to someone she doesn’t know, not even to embarrass her brother.

By the time David looks back, Matteo’s gone. Laura returns to his side, with just a small smirk and a, “he seems nice enough,” in response to David’s querying eyebrow. It’s infuriating. She’s infuriating. But worse is the loss of Matteo’s presence as the party winds its way to a close. Sara disappears, the guys David most often sees with Matteo yell some stuff through what must be his door, and then once they’re gone there’s no-one left. Just him and Laura and the guy who must be the flatmate.

Laura grins at David, saying she’s heading home now, and the flatmate offers to escort her down the stairs and point her in the direction of the right bus. They turn to David, but he can’t bring himself to leave. It’s stupid, the dumbest thing he could probably do, and yet he’s concerned. Matteo disappeared so quickly, and it disrupted all David’s plans for the evening, the things he wanted and the things he might have been able to convince himself to do. So he mutters something about wanting to tidy up, references the mess he’d left last time, and gets a very considering look from the flatmate. They both shrug, though, and he’s left alone in the kitchen, choosing to deal with whatever is going on in here rather than thinking about the much bigger mess that is the rest of the space. Besides, this keeps him out of Matteo’s way and as much as David wants to make something happen, wants to dive into the kiss he’s been thinking about for the last few weeks, he’s also still got a small amount of self preservation left, and that keeps him here safely away from the temptation of Matteo’s door.

He’s not sure what he’s even doing here. Matteo isn’t likely to emerge, the boys made that obvious when they left, and David wonders why the hell he’s doing this to himself. Why he’s letting the desire that swamps him have control of his actions like this. It’s the vulnerability, he thinks viciously as he shakes the leftover beer out of a couple of bottles. It’s the part of Matteo that calls to the same part of David, the one that won’t let him off the hook. It’s crept in under his skin and every time he sees it he can’t help but want to soothe it away. Kiss it away. Basorexia, he thinks to himself irrelevantly, dragging a dim recognition of the word’s meaning out of his memory. The overwhelming desire to kiss. The thing that’s getting him into trouble in this time when he was supposed to be keeping himself aloof and distanced.

There’s a soft rustle in the doorway and David turns to see Matteo standing there. And it’s there again, the vulnerability and the fragility. He seems surprised to see David there, but even as obviously tired as confused as he is Matteo still does something to David. He makes something twist uneasily in his stomach, he makes him want again. The urge to kiss is rising, swamping every sensible thought in David’s head. He gets through some small banal small talk, and then Matteo is right there next to him.

In the dim light his hair shines and the stripes on his cheeks add something to the overall impression, they soften the planes of his face, make him look younger, less sure of himself even than he has done recently. And there’s something in his eyes, something soft and lonely. Something that calls to the same lonely thing in David. And even though he knows this is stupid, even though he berates himself even while he does it, even though he’s sure this is the stupidest, scariest thing he ever could imagine … David thinks fuck it. He wants to kiss, he wants to know what it’s like, he wants to stop pushing it down as if it’s something to be ashamed of. So he lets the feelings out finally, lets it all show on his face when he turns to Matteo and says a few words. A few words that tip him over into everything he’s feeling, a few words that let him want for real. A few words that finally allow him to admit the building up of the desire to kiss and kiss and never let go.

“You look good today.”

#druck #og druck #my fic stuff #my ask stuff #my prompt stuff #Anonymous

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one-with-the-floor · 4 years

Text

I’ve Got You (And We Always Have)

Inspired by @greenfiredragonfly‘s fic Some things are worth believing in (Including you)

Warnings for kidnapping and minor (non-explicit) injury. EVERYBODY’S FINE. I PROMISE. You can also read it here on AO3!

“How’s this, angel?”

Aziraphale looked up, peering over his reading glasses to see Crowley’s handiwork. “Er…” he said, struggling to hide his skepticism. “Well, it certainly looks very nice, dear, but, ah. How exactly am I meant to get to the ones at the bottom?”

“You don’t.”

“Ah.”

Crowley didn’t even try to hide his smirk as he crossed his arms and leaned back against his pyramid of books. Because yes, it was structurally sound enough to support his weight. And no, that was not the result of a miracle. “I feel like you’re not appreciating my work here.”

“Oh no, no, dear, I definitely, erm, appreciate it.” Aziraphale carefully tapped at the bottom layer of hardbacks with the toe of his shoe. “I’d just also appreciate being able to access my collected Wilde plays.”

“Pfft,” Crowley waved that away. “Wilde. Who needs him?”

“Oh, honestly, Crowley, are you still going on about that? For the last time, you were asleep, I needed someone to—"

But he didn’t get to finish as he suddenly doubled over, gasping and clutching at his chest.

“Angel?” Crowley reached for him, all the teasing and casualness gone in an instant. “What’s wrong? Are you—” But then it hit him, too, and he had to catch himself on the piled books to avoid collapsing. His heart pounded and his vision blurred as secondhand panic and terror crashed into his system, an overwhelming wall of desperation slamming across his mind.

Nanny! a voice screamed into his head, filled with all the fear he felt himself. Nanny, Francis, please, help me!

A hand closed around his upper arm. He jerked up to see Aziraphale, pale faced and shaking, but upright. He pulled Crowley to his feet. “Warlock,” he gasped out, panicking under his own power now. Warlock was—oh, Satan, if Warlock was calling for them, after three years of radio silence, he was—he must be—

Aziraphale gripped Crowley’s hand. “We’ll find him.” Crowley swallowed down the panic. Then he nodded, and in a flash of light and crack of thunder, the bookshop was empty.

A long time ago, in a damp, abandoned basement, Nanny Ashtoreth held a slightly battered Warlock Dowling in her arms and made him make a promise.

“Az… Aziraphale?”

“Mhm. And the other one?”

“Uh… Crawley?”

“Not quite, dearest. Crowley.”

“Crowley.”

“There it is. Can you say them again for me?”

She made him practice until he could pronounce them both right on the first try. The whole time, she kept catching herself staring at his face, at the dark bruise splayed across his cheekbone. A reminder, that as much power as this little boy might have when he was older, right now, he was just a vulnerable child. And a target, to boot, for kidnappers and blackmailers and anyone else who wanted to get at the American ambassador.

She hated that bruise. Hated it with everything in her, and she could feel the same hatred coming off of Brother Francis crouched on the floor next to them. Both of them itched to reach up and snap, to make the bruise go away and all the pain with it. But they didn’t dare. Not at the risk of revealing themselves.

“Aziraphale and Crowley. Aziraphale and Crowley.”

“Perfect, darling. Just like that.”

She made him promise to remember those names. That if he was ever scared, or hurt, or in danger, he would pray to them to come and help.

Neither Nanny Ashtoreth nor Brother Francis ever expected him to use it. They were with him most of the time, anyway, and after this would keep a closer eye out for danger. And in a few years time, there wouldn’t be a potential kidnapper in the world capable of laying a hand on him.

Except, as it turned out, Warlock Dowling was not the destroyer of worlds.

And kidnappers were very much capable of laying hands on him.

***

The two men lounging around the room they blasted into weren’t much of a problem. It’s hard to put up much of a fight half-blinded and overcome by a surge of occult and ethereal power. But there was no sign of Warlock, and even as Crowley oriented himself and searched for the source point of his little boy’s prayers, he could hear shouting and footsteps pounding towards them, more of the kidnappers running to see what all the noise was about.

Aziraphale squeezed his hand. “Go find him. Get him safe.” Then he turned towards the approaching footsteps and widened his stance, and Crowley knew he didn’t have to worry for a second about any of the humans in the building.

Except for one, of course.

He followed the string of the prayer, relieved when it led him away from the approaching kidnappers and not towards them. They hadn’t been with him, then, hadn’t been—

No. Not now, not yet. He wasn’t going to think about what they might’ve done to Warlock until—unless—he had to.

A new surge of desperation sent Crowley sprinting down the hall, looking, searching, feeling his way towards the little boy locked away somewhere and praying for his nanny to come and save him. A woman came around the corner ahead of him and he snarled, letting out the serpent in his form as he towered over her. “Where issss he?” He thought he might have overdone it when she fainted dead away, but before she went down her eyes flicked to the door behind him. Crowley whirled around, nearly tearing the door off its hinges when he wrenched it open. “I’m coming, darling,” he murmured under his breath as he ran down another hall. “I’m coming for you.”

The room he found himself in was dark, and windowless, and damp, and his heart clenched. Warlock was close, he could feel it in his bones, he was so close. So where was he?

Then he heard a thump, a dull pounding sound, and he strained his hearing, willing his pulse and his breathing to quiet so he could listen. There, was that—that was something, he could hear something besides the continued thudding, but he couldn’t place it. “Warlock!” he called, so sure that he was there, but he couldn’t find him in the dark. “Darling, it’s me, it’s Nanny, where are you? Warlock!” Finally, after too long, he thought to miracle a light into the room, and the place lit up harsh and bright and empty. “Warlock, where are—”

And his breath seized when he saw it. His heart was frozen tight in his chest, and he stared, unable to think, that—no. No, it wasn’t—they couldn’t have. A box that size couldn’t possibly fit a fourteen year old, there was no way, he couldn’t be—

The pounding came again. And the side of the metal box shook.

The rusting iron pulled at his skin as Crowley’s fingers scrabbled at the latch, and now that he was closer he could hear it, could hear the screaming and the sobbing and the dull thump, thu-thump, thu-thump of feet and hands slamming against the inside. His fingers slipped on the deadbolt and his heart was hammering and he didn’t even notice he was babbling, that what was meant to be comfort and reassurance had bled down into just Warlock Warlock Warlock, that he couldn’t stop saying the name.

And finally the metal screeched against itself and the bolt flew aside and he could throw the lid open and he could see him, could see his little boy curled down and shaking with panic and sobs, his clothes torn and hair matted, a scarf cutting into the skin of his forehead and cheeks and a filthy washcloth shoved and tied into his mouth so his screaming sounded even more choked and desperate. Warlock leaned up a little, blindly searching out the fresh air, and Crowley realized he had stopped, had frozen when he opened the box, and he had to force down the hysteria and adrenaline to keep his movements gentle as he reached in and pulled him up by the shoulders.

Warlock was saying something, was trying to, at least, against the gag in his mouth and the sobs wracking his body, and Crowley hated the way the boy’s hands hovered between them, unsure if the person in front of him was there to save him or drag him through worse. “‘ah-ee?” he managed, pleading through the dirty fabric. “Fa-thith?”

Crowley only just kept his hands from clenching on his shoulders. “I’ve got you, dear.” Warlock shuddered, and made a sound in his throat like a whine and a plea all in one, but he stayed still while Crowley tugged the blindfold off and pulled the gag away. He whimpered when the rough fabric dragged against the corners of his mouth, where the skin had been rubbed red and raw, and Crowley hissed in sympathy, running gentle fingers along his cheek and his chin, reassuring the both of them. I’m here. You’re alright. I love you.

It took a moment for Warlock’s eyes to adjust to the brightness, and Crowley had his hand raised to snap it dimmer when the child threw himself out of the box and into his lap. “Nanny,” he sobbed into his shirt, and Crowley had never heard him like this, so hoarse, so broken, so scared. “Nanny, Nanny, you—I, I… Nanny…”

“Shh, love,” Crowley murmured, clinging to his little boy and rocking him slightly. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, you’re safe, you’re safe, darling.” Warlock pressed his face harder into Crowley’s shirt.

There were footsteps down the hall, but Crowley wasn’t going to look up, didn’t want to turn away from Warlock for a second, and didn’t need to; he knew who it was. But Warlock didn’t, and all he could do was hum softly and brush the hair on the back of his head soothingly as the boy jerked up to see Aziraphale come in. Crowley felt him struggle to squirm an arm out from between them, and the demon pulled back so he could—

Oh. Oh, Satan, Almighty, his wrist.

“Brother Francis,” Warlock cried, reaching out for him. That was a blessing right there, really, that he recognized Aziraphale at all without his gardener disguise, but Crowley couldn’t be thankful, couldn’t think of anything but how Warlock’s wrist had gotten to be so bruised and so swollen and so off-kilter. Warlock seemed to just be noticing it himself, staring down at his arm like he’d never seen it before. “Oh,” he murmured, and Crowley wrapped his arms around him tighter as Aziraphale ran to them and took Warlock’s injured wrist carefully in his hand. He watched Warlock’s eyes go wide as Aziraphale healed him with a thought, and felt the boy relax into his hold as the pain faded. Then Warlock was moving, lurching across Crowley’s lap as he flung himself into Aziraphale’s arms.

“Thank you. Thank you thank you, oh god…” He was sobbing again, burning tears into Aziraphale’s shirt to match the ones on Crowley’s, and they both held him through it, Aziraphale cradling Warlock to his chest as Crowley carded his fingers through his hair, subtly magicking away the knots and debris as he went. “Thank you for coming,” Warlock choked out.

“Of course we came,” Aziraphale breathed. “Of course, darling.”

“You did so well,” Crowley said. “Such a good job, Warlock, you prayed, just like I told you. You did it exactly right.”

Warlock shook his head, though, despite Aziraphale’s gentle hushing and Crowley’s hand rubbing circles on his back. “I almost forgot the names. I couldn’t remember them.”

“Shh, shh, sweetheart, you did.” No. No, he could not go down that road, couldn’t start thinking of the what-ifs.

“I thought I wouldn’t remember.” He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s right here and he’s—

“I—I was so scared.” Warlock dug his face into Aziraphale’s shirt. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”

Crowley felt the tears swelling up behind his eyes. He knew that the second Warlock was safe and asleep, he was going to break down, that the thought of what might have happened—what was so close to happening—was going to shatter him the moment he and Aziraphale were alone.

But Warlock was still there. And he had been through too much already to have to see that.

“Oh, darling,” he murmured, instead of crying and sobbing like he wanted to. “But you did remember. You did, you did so well. We’ll always come for you.”

The boy stretched between their laps looked up at him then, and Crowley had to fight, had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself under control. That wasn’t the look of a terrified child anymore. Warlock wasn’t a child anymore. “I did,” he said, his tone even despite the lingering hoarseness. “But I almost didn’t. I almost didn’t.”

Crowley couldn’t say anything to that. So he just held him tighter.

Warlock sat up a little, not moving away, just shifting to see them better. He winced with the movement. “Thanks for coming,” he said again, and then cringed further as the miracled light hit his eyes. “Could I borrow your glasses? Seeing hurts.”

Aziraphale sucked in a breath. “Concussion?”

“Looks like it.”

“Shall I?”

Crowley shook his head. “Let me.” He trusted Aziraphale, of course he did, but he had to know, had to make absolutely sure Warlock was alright. The miracle was quick and comprehensive, washing away the myriad bruises and scrapes and even the soreness in his screamed-out throat along with the concussion. Warlock slumped backwards again, melting into Aziraphale’s arms as all the aches and pains vanished, and then he… he giggled.

“I’m so glad you’re not pretending to not be magic anymore.” He nuzzled into Aziraphale’s shirt, happily oblivious to the new crisis he’d just reminded them of. He wasn’t supposed to know what they were. They hadn’t gone back to him after Armageddon didn’t happen, had thought they’d done enough damage to his life, that he’d have a better chance of a normal, happy childhood without a pair of immortals hanging over his shoulders.

But here they were.

Crowley was sure the only thing keeping his heart together was Warlock’s loose hold on his arm. They had left him. Abandoned him without a word, and this was the result, kidnapped and beaten and locked in a—and what if he hadn’t remembered? What if they hadn’t known, what if they’d found out days later on the news, too late, too—

The hand on his arm tugged lightly, and Crowley shifted closer, letting Warlock pull him in. He had stopped giggling, the giddiness of pain relief replaced by exhaustion. “I…” he started, and both Crowley and Aziraphale reached for him at the same time, brushing the hair out of his face and caressing his cheek. Warlock’s breath hitched on another small sob. “I really missed you.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed, turning to him. “Oh, dear, we… Crowley—”

“Shut up.” He couldn’t. He couldn’t, there was no way. He couldn’t keep living without Warlock, not knowing he wanted them back. “We missed you too. So much, darling, so much.” His hand traced over Warlock’s forehead, and the boy leaned into the touch. “We just… I only thought…”

And Aziraphale, wonderful, incredible Aziraphale, came to his rescue. “We thought you would be better off without us interfering. We didn’t want to leave you, but it was… we thought it was the better choice.”

“You were wrong,” Warlock said into his shirt, but there was no anger, no despair in it. “But it’s okay. As long as you come back now.”

They didn’t discuss it. There was nothing to discuss; the decision was made. Warlock needed them, and wanted them, and Crowley would be damned a second time if he ever let his little boy get hurt like this again.

They’d have to figure out what came next. How to return to the Dowling household. How to explain the reality of the world to Warlock. How to make absolutely sure he’d never have to pray for them ever again.

They’d do it. They’d do it, and they’d succeed, and Warlock would never forget their true names again.

#good omens #warlock dowling #crowley #aziraphale #my fic #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands

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for-emilia · 3 years

Text

Catch Me.

Football was finished for the christmas period. Neither of the pair had any plans over christmas, only to spend the time with each other and relax. The house was quiet as both dogs slept and the couple lay on the sofa, scrolling through their phones aimlessly.

“Let’s go and play footie,” Emilia spoke out into the quiet room, lowering her phone and pushing her foot into Fikayo’s face to get his attention.

“One a side?” Fik laughed, locking his phone and putting it down on his chest, kissing the side of Emilia’s socked foot then scrunching his nose up, wondering why he just did that.

“No, two a side,” she nodded her head over to the two drooling pups on front of the fire, Bronx laying on his side, head rested on Fik’s discarded hoodie, Camo laying on his front, no doubt dribbling in his sleep.

“Me and you vs the boys? Or me and Bronxy vs you and dribbler?” Fikayo laughed, smiling as Bronx pricked his ears up at the sound of his name.

“Me and Mr dribbler, he don’t just dribble on himself you know, gonna dribble around you and chunk,” Emilia retaliated, sitting up and looking out the big bifold doors to her left. It was cold, the Late December weather casting a layer of frost over the grass, making it sparkle in the low sunlight.

“Come on then,” Fik squeezed her knee, looking over at her and smiling before calling out for the dogs, “Oi, Bronxyyy, Camo, you wanna go to the field?”

Both of them immediately jumped up, prompting their parents to do the same thing, making their way upstairs to put more layers on. Fikayo replaced his thin shorts with some thicker joggers and a quarter zip that they used in Chelsea training, his initials and number on one side of his chest and the club logo on the other side. Emilia pulled on some yoga pants she knew Fik would like, a sports bra, and one of Fik’s smaller hoodies, not wanting to be dragged down by it being too oversized.

They met back at the door, where Fik was already standing with the boys, collared and leashed up ready to walk the short distance to the field before they could run free. As soon as he saw her emerge down the stairs, Camo ran over to Emilia, waiting patiently as she put her trainers on, knowing she’d pick up his lead sooner or later so they could leave.

“Oh lord, can you calm down?” Emilia let out a loud belly laugh, seeing Fik in his professional Chelsea training gear and holding his football boots in the hand that wasn’t holding Bronx’s lead, “the gaffer ain’t gonna be there you know.”

“Pfft, you thought I was gonna take this lightly?” Fik scoffed, lowering his eyebrows and scrunching up his nose, “you invited the wrong lad for a kick about.”

“You right, you right, lemme call Tammy real quick,” Emilia played along, reaching to pull her phone out of her hoodie pocket just to wind him up.

“Get out,” Fikayo opened the door and pushed her out into the cold, smacking her arse and looking down to watch it, “mm where’d you get these?”

Emilia smirked to herself, knowing her prediction was right and she knew her man too well.

“That’s not very professional, is it?” she played along to him taking this casual kick around seriously, “don’t think that’s how you should be representing the badge.”

“Oh, did you not know?” he spoke out seriously as he finished locking the door, “that’s part of training now before we start.”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes and began walking, looking down at Camo happily plodding along beside her.

“Your bum’s nicer to smack than Mason’s though,” he laughed at his own joke, emphasising his point with another spank to her arse, leaving his hand there for a little bit as they walked, “you should come to training in the new year.”

“Yeah, I will,” she smiled, stopping for a moment to let Camo do his business.

“Oi, let's beat mama and Mo,” Fikayo whisper-shouted to the rottweiler, setting off immediately running down the street alongside the dog, leaving Emilia and Camo in their wake.

“Dickheads,” Emilia said to the slightly smaller of the two dogs, “come on.”

They finally arrived at the field, first letting the two dogs off the leads so they could run around and play together. Luckily, the field was empty, allowing them to do whatever they wanted, just them four and the ball Fikayo had kicked the whole way there.

“Come catch me,” the second he’d dumped the dog’s stuff and their other belongings by one goal post, he set off with the ball at his feet, speeding across the field away from Emilia’s whines of protest.

“Fik!” she giggled then began running as fast as she could, he might be absolutely rapid, but there was no way she was going to let him win, no matter how she had to do it.

Fikayo ran in circles, up and down the wing, pulling stupid little tricks he knew would wind Emilia up even more, until he got knocked off his feet. It was somewhat dangerous and she probably shouldn’t have done it but he should’ve known to not challenge her.

She jumped in two footed, almost winding herself and Fikayo but she didn’t care, the ball was now hers and she wouldn’t let him forget.

Her shrill laugh echoed around the vast, empty field as she scurried off with the football and sounds of Fikayo’s complaints mixing with her own victories.

“Come and get me now, in your little professional gear,” she laughed as she imitated his stupid cocky tricks, somehow managing to pull them off just as well, “if only the lads could see you now.”

Fik took it upon himself to let her tire herself out, doing stupid runs and trying to torment their babies with the football while he set up his phone on the goal post on the opposite side of the field to their belongings and where she was. He opened up the camera app and knelt down to press record, checking it was going before dashing down the field.

You could immediately hear her screams as Fik chased her, sporadic movements trying to set her off balance and make her lose possession. They continued like this for a few minutes, Fikayo regaining possession but Emilia always kicking the ball from under his feet somehow. That was all until Bronx had enough of his parents acting like children, coming from supposedly nowhere and tackling the ball from between both of them, his large body and strength blocking them both from stealing it back off him.

“Oi! That was your fault! Don’t let your son steal it!” Emilia laughed, hitting Fikayo on the chest and pointing at where Bronx and Camo were now imitating their parents, running around like loons trying to get the ball from each other.

“What do you mean?! I’m the soft one with him, you’re meant to be the one to be harsh and tell him off!” Fik retaliated, pushing her away but keeping a hold of her wrist so she got pulled back in and confused slightly.

“Well go and get it then, or you know what Camo’s like, he’ll chew it up,” Emilia mused, looking at Fik expectantly knowing he’d have more of a chance of receiving the ball than she would.

He sighed and began to calmly walk towards them, knowing they’d just set off in the other direction if he ran. Suddenly, he was nearly falling to the ground. An unexpected weight on his back almost knocking him off kilter before he realised it was his girlfriend, clinging to him like a backpack.

“Take me with youuuu,” she laughed quietly in his ear as he jumped her up, settling her more comfortably on his hips, “I’ll get lonely.”

He laughed and wiggled where he stood, trying to shake her off as a joke before grabbing a tight hold of her legs and running as fast as he could in between the two dogs with Emilia on his back.

“No! Fik! You can’t run!” she squealed, realising extremely quickly this was a bad idea, not knowing what came over her as she didn’t like being picked up in the first place, “babe you’re gonna drop me!”

Her words got more high pitched as she spoke, tightening her grip as much as she could around his shoulders and laughing, half out of sheer terror and half out of fun. Impressively, Fik managed to steal the ball back, booting it up the opposite end of the pitch away from the two dogs as they were now interested in Emilia’s dangling legs and Fik faffing about in between them.

“I’m gonna have to put you down into the sharks,” Fik joked, wanting rather to put her down than risk dropping her and injuring her or one of the dogs.

He tried to gently put her down in between them both, but with the bustling dogs and the short warning, she ended up on her bum.

“Fikayo!” she scolded him in his full name, cursing as he cackled at the sight of her sitting on the muddy ground with him standing over her. And like fuck was she having that.

Emilia grabbed his arm and behind the knee at the same time, pulling him to the floor where she was lying, trying to not get crushed as he fell like dead wood.

“Baby!” he screamed, trying to quickly alter his reflexes and land next to his girlfriend not on top of her, only having a split second to shift his weight so landing half on top of her.

“I’m gonna kill you,” he laughed, moving to have one palm on the floor on each side of her head, suspending himself inches away from her face in a plank over her, “you cheated.”

“Agh shit, did Tammy tell you? Fuck, it’s not what it seems, I can explain,” she made a joke out of him calling her a cheater, twisting his words and thinking she was the funniest person in the world.

“Shut the fuck up,” Fik whispered with a smirk painted across his face trying not to laugh, knowing she was more than close enough to hear him.

The dogs had ran off, not interested in the pair anymore, probably chewing up the football but neither of them particularly cared anymore since there were a million more back at the house.

“I could fuck you here and nobody would know,” Fik whispered again against her lips, half forgetting about the running video and half not hating the idea of turning it into something else. The camera obviously couldn’t hear any of what was being said

“Aye that’s until a random neighbour comes out the bushes and reports us,” Emilia scrunched her eyebrows up, not wanting to say no but also knowing it was a horrendous idea, “we’ll get mud everywhere too.”

He dramatically sighed and kissed her a few times, relaxing for a minute and warming himself up on her lips before his arms started to shake and he decided he needed to actually rescue the poor football’s fate. She sat on the floor for a second, watching as Bronx barked at him and Fik mocked major offence, putting his hand on his chest and pretending to be sad they’d argued before asking him for a cuddle, using it to his advantage to rip the football from out of his mouth. He could hear Emilia’s cute laugh from the other side of the pitch, booting the football and immediately hitting the crossbar.

Fikayo ran around the pitch dramatically to celebrate, both dogs following and on his tail as they made it over to Emilia, pulling her up and joining in on the fun, knowing she’d want to battle Fikayo for who could hit the crossbar most times. While she brushed off her bum of the debris that clung to her from the floor, Fik ran over quickly and pocketed his phone, not wanting her to know he’d filmed some of their shenanigans.. Well, until he got home and rewatched the footage, unable to contain himself therefore posting the clip to his story of him stealing the ball off her a few times and the little clip of them clattering to the ground at the end.

“You little sneak,” Emilia beamed, seeing the notification pop up on her phone as they lay in bed together, knowing the clip of them falling to the floor surrounded by the dogs would make everyone blow up.

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