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#emerging to go hmm why did I do that when I had many chores and errands today
enzymedevice · 1 year
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I don’t know what possessed me this morning to spontaneously draw Undertale fanart but here y’all go.
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chinahatbeach · 1 year
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Thoughts for Today
Good Sunday morning to you. Hope your weekend is going well for ya. Mine has been productive and relaxing. I’ve made a few pot holders, did some reading, did chores, ate a nice steak, and will do the same today, except I shall eat cod. I’m in a fish mood and shall make fish for dinner.
My thoughts are a rambling. I saw an ad about Girl Scout cookies. Hmm…. I’ve missed those little gals. I don’t go to the store on the weekend and haven’t missed buying those dang Thin Mints.
I did my morning reading and saw something that made me go, yes! “We need to put feet to our faith”. Isn’t that the truth?! We can’t change anything if we do nothing. And so, here is what I read and it made me think……
In his book Draw the Circle: The 40 Day Prayer Challenge, author Mark Batterson tells an inspiring story about a group of Mississippi farmers who gathered fifty years ago to pray for rain. 
When a drought threatened to destroy a season of crops, a rural church with many farmers in the congregation called for an emergency prayer meeting. Dozens of farmers showed up to pray. 
Most of them wore their traditional overalls, but one of them wore waders. He got a few funny looks, just like Noah did when he was building the ark, but isn’t that faith at its finest? If we genuinely believe God is going to answer our prayer for rain, isn’t that exactly what we would wear? Why not dress for a miracle? I love the simple, childlike faith of that old, seasoned farmer. 
He simply said, “I don’t want to walk home wet.” And he didn’t. 
But everyone else did.
When we pray but don’t act, we may be saying that we believe in God, but we are acting like He doesn’t exist. 
Batterson also writes: 
 “We can pray until our knees are numb, but if our praying isn’t accompanied by acting, then we won’t get anywhere. We need to put feet to our faith. After kneeling down, then we need to stand up and step out in faith.”
I read this and thought, “yup”. I have done this lately and have seen things change. The change had to happen in me, for me, and for that point, it will change others, I believe. You must do or nothing will happen. You must say the positive words and get rid of ‘stinkin thinkin and speak life into your dry bones. Don’t look at your circumstance as the end of the world. God is waiting for you to put on your waders and have faith.
I know I can worry about a hundred and one things but does that help me? I can have anxiety and what does that do to me…… it can make me ill. I need to reframe my mind and thoughts and pray. It’s that simple… pray.
“Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God” (Psalm 20:7). Jesus only asks that we put trust in Him. Faith to see the mountain moved. Faith to see the unseen things change. Faith!
Well, time for me to make breakfast and get going on my day. The chickens are at the back porch screaming at me for their breakfast. Yes, chickens do scream (or at least it sounds that way to me!)
Have a good Sunday…..
And that’s the way it is………..
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harfanfare · 3 years
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How to win a heart of Jamil Viper?
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1.   Don’t be a typical hero(ine).
Contrary to the popular romance trope, tripping over the air to land on a certain cool-looking boy, and dropping all carried things, wouldn’t make Jamil fall for you. Instead, just falling because of you and sharply crashing with a floor would make him rather cautious around you and keeping a distance whether he has anything in his hands.
Believe him or not, he doesn’t need another ditsy and erratic person around him—like a certain leader from a certain dorm, who happens to create a mess anytime, anywhere.
So, let someone else be the protagonist of the story.
In that situation, you may be a side character that gets its way through obstacles and classic borders of story scheme and is much more interesting than the main persona.
That’s how you get his attention.
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2.   Be a help.
Oh, a person that would help him with his chores means to him much more than gold. Sometimes.
“Can I help you anyhow?” you asked when Jamil was going to the kitchen after a daily training with the rest of the dorm. He lifted his eyebrow, waiting for further explanation. “I mean with cleaning or something.”
Jamil glanced at you, not sure about your intentions.
Who would like to do something to help without having something in return? With only your will? No, it doesn’t work well in the same sentence.
But some help would be great. So, he just needs to keep sure that he won’t fall into any trap for letting you help, yes?
“Sure,” he said casually, not letting his face nor voice reveal any of his thoughts he run into. “[Name], right? Could you bring and clean the dishes from longue?”
And you helped. You really helped him a lot, staying over two hours till everything was shimmering with cleanliness and your abrupt desire to clean something and be more useful, burned out.
“Thank you for your help,” Jamil said, after correcting the last cushion in the Scarabia’s longue. You flashed him a smile. “But why, if I can ask, did you offer it in the first place?”
He got a quick response in form of a shrug.
“I... don’t really know,” you admitted, glancing at him. “...But you don’t complain, no?”
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3.   Be his dish taster.
“The way to a one's heart is through his stomach.”
“Try it,” Jamil handed you a spoon filled with some kind of stew. You consentaneously your opened mouth and drank all content of the spoon. Your mouth filled with many flavours and you couldn’t be sure if you ever ate that good combination in your life. “How was that?”
“Excellent as always.”
You said it all sincerely and maybe would have asked for seconds, if not the fact that Jamil already turned his back to you and got back to pots. He took another spoon and tried the dish himself, clicked his tongue and added more salt.
Once again, he turned to you and handed you a spoon.
“And how was that now?”
“Excellent as always,” you chuckled as he frowned at you.
“Don’t you think that you should add more words to your dictionary? You say the same thing on every dish,” once he said that you finished drying the last plate and preparing silverware for today’s fiesta.
“Don’t you think that I won’t be able to eat anything at the party when I will eat enough of your cooking now to write a poem about each of your culinary masterpieces?” Jamil chuckled slightly at your words.
“So, you don’t want any more?” he teased, but inside he was really flushed. Praises or cajolery, it all makes his heart skip a beat.
Finally, there was someone who appreciated all work he’s done.
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4.   Distract Kalim from him.
“You really shouldn’t go there,” you said, your voice as serious as you could keep it. “I mean, what if there is a monster who wants to kidnap you?”
Kalim cocked his head a little, considering your words. After a while, he nodded, fully convinced by your argument.
“You’re right,” he said. “I will warn others about this..!”
Kalim turned on his heel and spotted some people returning from morning classes. He ran to them, greeting them and walking with them as he tried to introduce the situation.
Still not believing Kalim fall for your words, you were standing alone in the centre of the corridor, a bit dumbstruck to discover the excuse Jamil came up with work.
“...Are you sure, you don’t want to tell him that some student’s from other dorm are here?” you asked as if saying to yourself your thoughts aloud.
But there was someone, someone who was hiding behind a big potted palm. He only gave you thumbs up as a preventative measure if there was still a chance that Kalim didn’t just dash through the halls to talk with some dorm students.
Jamil only looked at you and mouthed “No. Party. Today.” and quietly shifted to the corner, where the wall hid him and he could finally get up.
Mission accomplished.
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5.   Get rid of bugs for him.
“[Name],” Jamil called out to you, bursting through the door to your room. He looked very pale and panic was staying still in his eyes. “Would you be so kind to... deal with an intruder?”
You frowned a little before biting back a sigh. At first, you were concerned. Even Kalim getting in a serious mess didn’t make him react that seriously. But then you remembered that there was one thing that could make Jamil call you out of nowhere, acting like in an emergency. Emergency only in eyes of few.
Bugs.
Jamil never admitted to you that he is scared of them, but every time you brought up the topis, he snapped his fingers at it, saying that insects just aren’t his favourite kind of animal.
“Hmm~ Maybe after I finish this chapter,” you said, conspicuously turning a page of the book you were reading and with all your will trying not to smile nor to look at the wincing expression Jamil was wearing.
“[Name],” he said, his voice shaking with anger or frustration. “Go there right now or I will make sure you won’t get today’s dinner.”
...No dinner?
“Yes, mum,” you said putting the textbook aside and getting up from the comfortable couch.
Of all people, Jamil is probably the only one—well, maybe also Trey—that could make those words sound dangerous. Like, no dinner made by the best chef in Scarabia? It would be pure agony.
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6.   Have competitions.
“Aren’t you a little too good in this game?” you asked, regretfully placing pieces of the game back to the initial places.
He gave you a smile that slowly turned into a smirk, as you groaned at the next round you have lost. You flopped on the big pillow, all your will to play destroyed, as you sank between really cosy material.
“I told you I won’t give you a head start,” Jamil said, his steady voice mixed with amusement. “You even told me that you don’t want me to go easy on you before the game started.”
“Too bad,” you clicked your tongue at his response. “I was sure that after watching you play with Kalim, I remembered your tactics.”
You’ve watched at least eight rounds of Jamil and Kalim playing this game, and when it was coming to end, you were almost sure you understood and remembered the technique he was using in certain situations.
But, to your disappointment, it looked like he – even without using any of his tricky cards in his sleeve – was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, because, after three moves, you knew that probably all three were wrong when the opponent was Jamil.
“You gained nothing by it. Of course, I lost to him or... there would be a trouble,” he exclaimed. “You are different.”
“Oh, thank you. I can lose but he can’t, huh?” you frowned at him as he almost choked on the surprise he felt by hearing your response.
“...Yeah, that’s it. Just it.”
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7.   Have study sessions together.
“One class had a test before us,” you said scrolling through your class chat group. “They said that there wasn’t any question about these dates.”
Jamil scribbled down years of the most important magic wars, from time to time looking at you who were listing some test exercises and feeling somehow unmotivated to even properly open a history book.
Your notebook was lying in front of you, today’s lesson topic on the top of the page and many detailed doodles on its margin.
Once again... what was the unit you are having an exam about?
“It doesn’t mean, we won’t get a question about that,” Jamil tried to convince you, sliding textbook your way. “Now, read that aloud, while I prepare notes.”
You blinked twice as if woken up from daydreaming. Were you daydreaming?
“Are you sure..? I mean, all I will do is reading. Wouldn’t you rather want us to read it silently and then share our notes after this?”
“Don’t think about it much. I really like your voice,” he said it so thoughtlessly you weren’t sure if said it as an unarguable fact or just his smooth talker abilities were showing off, “and gave me your notes for the last exam so we’re even. And you won’t do any good notes when you’re sulking over this exam like that.”
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8.   Remind him to take breaks.
“You won’t get out of here,” you exclaimed spreading your arms as shielding a door from him. “Not a chance.”
Jamil stood a feet next to you, grimace stretching on his lips as he knew what’s coming up.
“I have to go, [Name].”
He tried to get through you, lightly removing you of his way. He wasn’t a fan of using force on anyone, and he was a hater of using force on you.
Much more than a speakable argument, you were pushing each other closer or further from the door, having a staring contest and reciting all the things he had done in the past two days; except for his daily duties and with the upcoming birthday party of few students of Scarabia who happen to have a celebration in the same day, the number of tasks he was given was overwhelming.
“Stop it!” you protested, trying to push him back. “I am seriously worried about you! Please... take a break.”
Every time he was coming closer to the exit, you stepped back, blocking his way, bumping into him and having to try again.
“You know I have a lot of work to do,” he said, finally stepping back and giving you a break from trying to separate him from the door. “I can’t just give up all my duties, even if I would love a break.”
“I can do it for you,” you quickly offered. “But please, now, go to sleep and don’t you dare touch anything related to school or cleaning.”
...What a weird request.
When was the last time anyone told him to take a break?
He doesn’t remember.
But now, he can say it was recently, all thanks to you.
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9.   Promise.
It was really hard for him once all his hard work to keep a high position within the dorm students suddenly dropped after his overblot accident.
“[Name]...”
However, the thing he regretted the most was hurting you. Taking the whole dorm under his unique magic spell, the hypnosis also affected you, making you another servant of his. Even you weren’t the one he ordered a lot, you felt betrayed that even the friendship you two developed didn’t stop him from overblotting.
And if he knew that you would avoid him like fire after the accident, he would probably hesitate a lot.
His throat tightened as he saw you one day in the corridor, looking somehow lonely and tired. He dashed to you, beseeching you to talk to him.
“Sorry for asking, but, Jamil, you don’t hate me, right?” you asked with a pain in your voice. You couldn’t even look at his face, feeling the incomprehensible weight in your gaze. “I mean... Do you only act in front of me friendly? ...Like... with Kalim..?”
“No, no, no,” he protested quickly, making it almost sound like a plea. He gently grabbed your hands, praying that you won’t harshly jerk them back because of him. “I don’t hate you. I really like you. I mean every word I said to you.”
The feeling of release struck you like thunder, you took a big breath, your eyes watering. You slowly reached for his touch, finally ending in a hug.
Jamil ran his fingers through your hair, smelling a familiar, reassuring scent of yours. After a while, he whispered a question.
“So... could you please not avoid me anymore? I know it will be hard to bring up the same relationship we had, but... could you give me a second chance?”
“Okay. But under one condition,” you said, slightly backing off from him. Before he could wonder about the term you would require from him, you finished your thought. “You must be honest with me. I... don’t know what will I do if it all turned to be a play...”
“I will,” he replied, putting his whole heart in these two words. “I will always be honest with you. And won’t ever use my unique magic on you.”
You looked up at him, a small smile starting to rise and heart-throbbing more wilder with his words. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
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10.            Make him confess.
“What are you doing this weekend?”
Jamil appeared in front of you, almost like popping out of nowhere, as you were done with today’s lessons and slowly heading to your dorm. He caught up with you, changing his pace to match yours.
“I have no plans. I will be probably sleeping or something,” you answered honestly, shrugging and reminding yourself that you should finally hang out with some people from your class to make sure your social life isn’t all over dead.
You were walking in quietly before Jamil broke silence and spoke up again.
“Would you like to go somewhere?” he asked his voice only giving a hint of nervousness—it was nothing compared to the stress he felt inside. It was just a “yes or no” question, he knew that he will meet in future many amazing people like you and shouldn’t be stressed, but having someone so dear to him being asked for a meeting where he will try to finally out find his feeling... it is stressful.
“Hehe~ what, are you asking me on the date?” you teased, but much more than mocking, you were hoping for an answer. For the honest answer, he promised you.
“...And what if I am?” he asked, his voice a bit hushed, but steady.
You felt how heat was coming all the way up to your cheeks, although you tried your best not to let anything more, as if a blush wasn’t obvious enough, know how excited and spellbound you are.
“Then, your wish is my command.”
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beskarberry · 3 years
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Bilgerat
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Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 10
(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)
"The grip on your back tightened, and a low growl reverberated through the iron underneath you. You’ve got company."
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Rating: Explicit
Word count: 18.3k whoopsie
Content warnings: Big kinky: cock warming, wet-ish dreams, knife play (no blood), vibrator play, squirting. Small kinky: predator/prey dynamic, lots of biting, soft choking, mentions of chapter 9's shenanigans. Kinkles (kink sprinkles): breeding/pregnancy, begging, overstim. Not-smut stuff: alcohol consumption, lots of story, introduction of OCs, more backstory for reader, some fuckin ANGST.
A/N: Story time! Some slice of life, some romance, some adventure! Once again Mando and his love get themselves in trouble because they tried to be cute so shocker-roony-roo there's some long fluff scenes cushioning the smut that I hope you enjoy~
Chilly.
You grumbled and squished yourself closer to the heat source you were wedged against, but your backside was uncovered and prickling with goosebumps in the faint, icy wisps that still made their way through the slap-n-patch fixes you’d made to the Crest’s busted walls. Groping blindly you searched for your bantha wool blankie, but all you found was the cold, unforgiving durasteel of the sleeping alcove under your fingers. You flopped an arm over the hot body pressed to your chest, trying to see if the blanket was on his side, but only found more frigid steel. Din rumbled and hugged you closer, nuzzling his face against yours like a big dopey massif and snoring right in your ear. His arms and chest were wonderfully warm, but the skin on your booty stung in the chill air. Blanket.
You pressed a lazy kiss or two to his sleeping face and started trying to untangle yourself from his limbs. His fingers burrowed deeper into your sides, begging you not to leave. I know, just gimme a sec. Somehow you managed to get yourself sitting up, and you glanced around the cot trying to find your cover. The only thing beside you in the narrow space was the stretched out body of your Mandalorian, the dim emergency lights catching on his many scars. The smooth patches of skin outlined his form in the dark like lost stars that had come to rest next to you, shimmering over the sleeping warrior with each slow breath.
It was still a little strange to see him so vulnerable, though you had earned the right to see him this way, he usually chose to wear his full beskar even in your presence. However, squashed into the sleeping alcove next to you he was buck-ass naked, and you couldn’t help but stare. Stars above he’s beautiful, even as a dark smudge in the faded light you could see the way he was built. Muscle, and lots of it, laying gracefully under his marred skin. He wasn’t bulky by any means, but he was big. At his full height he was an impressive stack of meat and sinew, but laying on his side he looked like a mountain range, rolling peaks and valleys that called you to climb them.
You let yourself indulge in the sight of him, just for a moment. Battleborne shoulders nestled on either side of a wide, sturdy back that led your eyes down the dip of his spine to the rise of his hips, over their swells, and down to the slopes of his legs. His angled knees sent your eyes right back up, past the tuft of fuzz that hid his groin and over the soft, sweet rolls of his tummy. The breadth of his chest was hidden by his long arms, but their lovingly chiseled curves brought your eyes to his wide, calloused hands.
Maker above those hands. Versatile and strong, hands that fired weapons with lethal accuracy, tossed bounties like bags of garbage and drove blades through bone like it was wet paper. And yet they held you so perfectly, so softly when they wanted to. They sat beautifully anywhere on your body, your hips, your shoulders, your breasts. Perfectly cupped to lay flush with your skin wherever they roamed, and just the right size to lace between your fingers while you slept. Or finger you til you passed out.
Distracted by the sleeping warrior you shivered in the cold air, reminding you that you could lay back down next to the man you’d chosen to walk the stars with as soon as you found your fucking blanket. As you worked yourself off the bed you set a hand on his hip, gliding your fingers through the soft fuzz that dusted his thigh while you snuck out of the cot. He grumbled and twitched from your touch, his own hands fidgeting in his sleep to try to find you.
You scootched off the bed, holding onto his leg for support as you did. Your bare feet hit the floor, and you nearly screamed from the cold of it, oh fuck cold! The icy floor of the ship woke your ass right up and had you doing a stupid dance to escape the frostburn. Ouch ouch ouch! You jazzed your way to the closest locker, grabbing a blanket and a pair of socks and hobbling back over to the bunk. Why don’t I have socks on? Oh, that’s right, hehe.
Yesterday’s events lazed through your mind while you tugged the tubes up your legs, realizing that they weren’t your socks when the heel stretched past your ankle. Sitting on the edge of the bunk you noticed the beskar strewn about the cabin like so many scattered plates. It wasn’t like him to just discard his cultural armor, but you remembered what the hydra’s nectar had done to the both of you, your face going hot at the memory of his face buried in the apex of your thighs, dripping with sweetness.
Idley you ran a palm over your middle, poking yourself in the guts just to be sure. Nope, no stragglers. You pushed your fingers as far into your stomach as you could, relieved and a little surprised to find that you felt no pain. Din had done a fantastic job of ridding you of your…quarries, though you were still a little bummed that you had only managed to capture one. You weren’t sure where it was at now, probably stashed in one of the many mangled lockers with the trophy you had taken from the last hunt, hopefully not growing anything. Hmm, wouldn’t mind taking another ride on that amorous anemone though, truth be told. You chuckled at the thought, the movement of air in your throat making you thirsty, and you headed to the fresher to get something to drink.
Draped in your blanket like a cloak you tip-toed in your stocking feet to the tiny space, squinting your eyes closed before you turned on the light. Dark, slime-covered shapes clogged up the narrow alcove, and you begrudgingly collected the laundry to chuck into the automated cleaner. Something clankered out of the fabric when the clothing hit the drum of the washer, check the pockets, dingus!
Son of a bitch there was a lot of shit in those pockets, from munitions to bacta to petrified teeth, and you started to tick yourself off that you had somehow started doing chores in the middle of the night. I should have just stayed in bed! The fresher sink heaped with junk when you finally had all the pockets cleared and the fabric piled in the scrubber. You punched the cleaners activator, mindlessly watching the clothes spin round and round while you sipped at a cold cup of water.
Frazzled neurons blared the word ‘foundling’ through your head, and you strode through the poorly illuminated space to where the child’s pram hovered on the other side of the cabin. As you went you took a moment to glance up at the distant night sky through the ladder hatch, cursing when you tripped over a piece of tossed beskar. You slid the cradle’s lid open as quietly as you could to see the sleeping prince, curled in a little ball in his father’s cloak. It’s too cold for you to be by yourself, you need to be with your boo-ear.
Out like a light, he didn’t budge when you scooped the heap of fabric into your arms and snuck back over to your bed. You clambered over your sleeping partner and plopped down on your butt, keeping the child in your lap while you adjusted the warm blanket to fit over you and your mate. You tucked Goobs up under your chin and made yourself into the middle spoon, pushing your backside into the hollow of Din’s hips. The mighty warrior hummed fondly against the back of your head as he spooled himself around you. Aaannd… there it is.
You grumbled and reached down to adjust your thighs, settling the pillowy flesh around the stiffy that prodded against your ass. Din huffed and rutted between your legs with a deep sigh, his cock twitching softly against your mound. It’s only natural you’d once told yourself, and it’s not like either of us are going to accomplish anything. Fine, you can bunk with me, mini-mando. You ignored Din’s poker to get the foundling comfy in between your arms and the arms that were wrapped around you like a big warm octopus. Snug as a bug in a rug the baby was, and a gurgling snore made your heart swell. Like father, like son.
A whiskery muzzle snuggled against the back of your head, brushing through your hair and bumping against the shell of your ear. Tiredness tugged at your eyelids, and you were almost back to sleep when the beast between your legs shifted, sliding backwards and forward again to catch uncomfortably in the dip of your mound. Damn it all are you kidding me! You shuffled your hips, dislodging him from the poorly stuck spot to sit like a sausage in a bun between your thighs. There, stay put you big horndog.
Nope, the sleeping mountain humped again, snagging himself in the same spot. You suck. With a groan you stuffed your hand down between your legs and notched the tip of his cock into the slick space it was made for, the heat of it making a delicious shiver work its way up your spine. Din moaned and hugged you closer, rocking himself deeper into your core and mumbling some Mando’a against your hair with another warrior’s snore. You were still decently lubed with yesterday’s happy fun times, and you slid your thighs against each other to roll your coils around the deliciously thick spear you now had sheathed in you.
His warm, velvety length sat perfectly in your hearth, sending plumes of heat spreading through your body. You were nice and toasty now, snuggled under the wooly blanket and squashed between the snorers on either side of your body. Din sighed in his sleep and let himself be still, keeping his cock warm in the blessed heat of your core. You could feel him, not just as the human blanket impression that he was doing wrapped around your body, but also between your legs, the gentle thrum of his heartbeat felt inside and out; and the slow, steady rhythm put you to sleep in seconds.
~
Thirsty.
Din was thirsty, the dryness in his mouth waking him up from the most wonderful dream. In his nectar-addled mind he was making love to you on some lush, sundrenched world while the setting sun lit up like a halo behind you. Your legs had been thrown over his hips while you rode him, the swell of your pregnant belly sitting heavily on his abdomen. What a sight she is! Maker above truly there can be no other creature as beautiful as her. In his dreamscape his words were distant, but he remembered telling you how much he loves you, how much he will love your younglings, how proud he is to be your husband. He watched awestruck as you crested above him over and over again like a ship breaking the waves, mighty and unyielding as a galleon in a storm.
He didn’t want to wake up from that perfect vision, but the feeling of his tongue sticking to his teeth forced his eyes open. You were pressed so close to his chest he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began, and he carefully slid his hand down your arm to find the foundling nestled against your chest. When did he get in bed? Din didn’t remember you getting up, and he knew he had left the child in his pram right before the ambrosia took control. I must be sleeping heavier than I realize.
Bantha wool brushed against his arms while he let his free hand roam, sliding his rough palm over your soft skin. He made a loop from the sides of your hips, up the curves of your waist, and down your arms to the foundling again; running his thumb over the long green ears of his adopted son and smiling at the gentle coo noise that came from under your chin. How did he get so lucky to have the two most precious creatures in the entire galaxy right there in his arms? He kissed the back of your head, the movement reminding him what had woken him up in the first place, thirsty.
Din carefully started to pull himself upright, only to find himself stuck, and he shuddered at the sensation of discovering what else he had slept through. Brows knit together, he blinked and squinted in the dark down the curve of your spine to where he was buried to the hilt between your legs, wondering if he was still dreaming. How rude of me, hasn’t she had enough of that? Hot embarrassment scalded his cheeks as he tried to work himself out of your silken folds, but the squeeze that you bore down to keep him in place had him biting his lip to keep from moaning out loud. Stars above…
Gently he slid himself out, torn between trying not to wake you and desperately needing to free his wandering cock. Fuck though you were so warm, and wet… wonderfully wet. He’d nearly pulled his length free when you shuffled in your sleep and stuffed your ass back against him, and the groan that broke its way out of his throat couldn’t be suppressed, the heat of it fanning steam against your hair. He bit down hard on his tongue and tugged his cock out, wincing from the quick draw.
Din pressed a chapped kiss to the side of your head and snuck himself out of the sleeping nook you both shared. It was frigid inside the ship, and the cold air that circulated in through the damaged air ducts stung against his flesh. Silent as a lothcat he slinked to the fresher, and the first thing that caught his attention was the sound of the automated cleaning unit spinning round. It had nearly finished its cycle, and he smiled a little sheepishly at the pile of trinkets that heaped out of the sink.
He picked a krayt’s tooth out of the pile, slowly running his thumb over the intricate patterns carved into the opalized bone with a lopsided grin on his face. My riddur. Pushing the rest of the items aside, he carefully turned the faucet and filled a mug. She must have gotten up at some point then. Din sipped quietly at the chilled water, watching the laundry spin round and round in the hazy lights. I wonder why, it’s not like her to wake up in the middle of the night. He giggled to himself in the dark, that woman sleeps through everything, including me.
His brain was slowly coming out of power-saving mode, and the reason for the clothes needing to be washed gooped its way into his frontal lobe. Quarry. A weird mix of emotions sloshed its way through him, first and foremost was rage. Knuckles cracked in his tightening fist, I’ll strangle whoever commissioned that bounty, there was definitely some need-to-know information missing from that fucking puck!
Gross jealousy sizzled behind his eyes at the thought of what that thing did to his wife, followed by a shudder at what it might have done to him. He took another swig, the ice water burning on the way down, at least she’s not hurt. She actually looked like she enjoyed it. A new heat made itself known across his cheeks, what had that looked like before I showed up, I wonder?
His shaft had just started to cease its midnight delinquency, only to perk right back up at the thought of the show he had missed out on. He shook his head and strode over to a mangled locker, finding himself some long johns to pull up and contain himself with. But the thought wouldn’t leave him, that thing had literally fucked you fuller than his wildest dreams. Lust tangled with envy in his chest, between the image of that thing pumping you full and the memory of what it had filled you with he was starting to sweat. But both feelings lost against the ultimate competitor: fear.
What if she’s in pain?
Suddenly fear crept its way to his throat, tasting like bile on the back of his tongue. That was a lot to take in at once, what if that’s why she got up to dig through the pockets, to find some bacta for her sore stomach? The sweat on his brow turned to ice, maybe it wasn’t your stomach that hurt. He cast a glance over to where you still laid with your baby, curled up in a protective ball around him. She would have told me if she was in pain though, right? One thing he knew for sure about you was that you were stubborn, and you usually chose the ‘suck it up’ route over asking for help. Help. I should help! I’m a good helper!
Downing his drink he dug through another cabinet, trying to stay quiet as he did; though probably more so for the foundling than for the bantha he bed with. He found one of the big tubes of bacta salve that he kept for emergencies, forgoing using one of the e-bacta shots he kept for emergency emergencies. Tube in hand, he slid back into bed behind you, carefully bunching the blanket over your side so you wouldn’t get cold. He warmed a big glob of bacta between his palms and slowly massaged it over your tummy, trying not to get it on the blanket or the foundling as his fingers kneaded the soft, supple flesh.
Bacta was a strange marvel of science, and maybe a little bit of magic. With enough of it you could patch a wound or heal a burn, and Din hoped that if he slathered enough of it on it would soak into your guts and fix anything that might be broken. This is mine, and I must protect it. Protect her. You grumbled in your sleep at the sensation of the medicinal salve, but your eyes stayed closed, allowing your riduur to lovingly caress at your precious belly. Never hurts to be cautious.
When he’d finished his administrations he wiped the remaining bacta off on his under-armor, trying to clean the ointment off his fingers before they went numb. Squeezing himself back into place along your spine, he burrowed his nose in your hair and sighed deeply, letting the scent of you fill his lungs. I told you I would bring you the stars, my love, I can bring you bacta as well. His adoration for his lifemate lead his lucid mind back to the dreams he had left, and he curled himself around you and the foundling as he drifted back to sleep.
~
“Electrical?”
“Up and running, seventy-eight percent capacity.”
A frosty morning had greeted you in the bottom of the glacial basin you were still stuck in, though hopefully not for much longer. Ship repairs had been finished to the best of both your abilities, and you were scurrying from task to task, helping Mando make the final prep checks before you hobbled your way off of fabulous vacation destination: Hoth. You had woken up that day feeling like a fat, lazy lothcat all curled up on your bunk, comfy and warm in a pile of bantha wool.
“Comms?”
“Operational, for now. Might lose those when we break the stratosphere, though.”
A mug of hot, watery caff had been waiting for you in the nervous hands of your re-armored riddur, and you’d drank it like you’d been stranded in the desert for days. He’d watched you eagerly, those honeywell depths of his full of curiosity and reverence, never leaving your form until you’d emptied your mug. Din had offered you another, and three more times you drank it down. Thirsty.
“Cabin pressure?”
“Holding!”
Still covered in the bacta you had been slathered in while you slept, you’d finally gotten to do the repairs on the ship’s exterior like you had planned to. The foundling was left on the flight deck, and you would wave to him through the transparisteel while you were on the roof. The pair of you gave it everything you had to piece the broken bird back together, but you had been right in your assumptions that an actual mechanic would be needed to suture the gashes that still twisted the iron flesh of the Razor Crest. Hyperdrive was too much of a risk to take in such a condition, and you would be holed up in the crowded cockpit until you were able to limp your way to the nearest station.
“Navigation?”
“Functional, sorta…”
“Radar?”
“Hot garbage.”
Everything you didn’t want to lose to the vacuum of space had to be moved into the upper deck. Weapons and quarries and all the amenities that made space travel bearable had to be crammed into the auxiliary space between the flight deck and the fuselage access door, leaving very little room for the living creatures that called the Razor home.
“What’s our offensive capabilities?”
“Zilch, unless you wanna roll down a window and we can shoot at whatever comes our way.”
“Fucking fantastic.”
This would be dangerous. Your forecanons were mangled, curling upwards like a pair of tusks from the mechanical beast. The blackmarket blaster cannons would probably need to be replaced, though the last dredges of your credits would have to go towards the ship itself.
“Foundling?”
“Snacking! Want a biscuit? They’re double chocolate.”
“...Yeah. Thank you cyare.”
Din stuffed the cookie in his mouth and pulled his helmet back down, signaling the start of the launch sequence. Your checklist was complete, and you made to buckle yourself and the foundling down to enjoy your pile of trip snacks when a heavily armored paw caught your arm. “How are you? You haven’t said anything about… the encounter.”
You shrugged, truth be told you were fine, though you weren’t sure if your ‘encounter’ had left you numb or if it was the ridiculous amount of bacta you had been drenched in while you slept; but either way you were just dandy. If anyone was still reeling from the events in the creeping reef, it was him.
“I’m alright, fussbucket. Really!” You curled your lips with a sneer, “Wanna open the thermos? Take a sniff?”
“No! Keep that damn thing locked up, if anything just so it doesn’t dry out. When we turn that fucking puck in I’m going to strangle whoever commissioned it…” Rage quaked his shoulders, but he shook the fury off, bringing his attention back to you. “Do you need more bacta?”
“No I do not need any more bacta! I feel like a damn stifling I’m so slimy. Do we even have any left over?” He gave a half-assed shrug, and you added bacta salves to your mental grocery list. His gloved hands fidgeted against his armrests, and you reached out to squeeze one. “How about you, are you alright?”
“Fine.” came a curt reply, quick and decisive and obviously a lie. ‘Fine’ was a four-letter-word as far as you were concerned, but it would have to do for now. You could discuss whatever was bugging him more in depth when your ship wasn’t threatening to fly apart at the seams and you were off of this frozen hell-hole.
“If you say so.” You tugged his hand to you and gave it a long, strong kiss. He pulled your hand back to him almost too quickly, knocking your knuckles against the brow of his helmet. A foolish tug of war ensued, both of you trying to keep the other’s hand for themselves. Neither of you won the battle, opting to just lace your fingers in the space between the two chairs and let your hands hang together. He was motionless besides the gentle roll of his thumb over your knuckles, and the tension in the air gave you the feeling he wanted to say something, but a final squeeze was given before he returned to the steering controls. Later.
“Alright, starting engine sequence.” Rocketeer extraordinaire, your Mandalorian fired up the old ship, carefully taking her through her paces. “Routing power to main ion accelerators… now.” The turbines that jutted out from the ship’s sides sputtered and roared, backfiring so loudly that chunks of ice fell from above and crashed into the window. Mando cursed under his breath and eased off the accelerator, flipping a handful of switches and gently pushing the joystick forward again. The engines spooled back up, barking out a few more explosions in protest before they were chugging away.
“Yeah that’s not terrifying or anything.” You held your hands over the foundlings ears, trying to protect his sails from the noise. The child was happily distracted by the crumbly snack he was working on, and glanced up at you with eyes too big for his head. Out the window you could see one of the offending engines, sparks splashing out over the patch job the two of you had made. “Come on baby girl, you can do it! Booger, help me out.” You held your hands out in front of you and waggled your fingers at the engine, and the foundling did his best to copy you without dropping his snackies.
Your combined sparkle fingers must have worked, because a final -kErPlOw- rocked the boat to her core before she was lifting off from the ground. As dainty as a cement mixer full of bricks she rose through the cerulean cathedral, shaking snow and ice from her iron mane. The Mandalorian’s grip on the steering controls creaked when she tilted to one side, listing unevenly while he tried to level her out. Slowly she ascended, and soon the -KaRunCh!- of the frozen ceiling hitting the roof echoed threateningly in the cabin. Just a bit more…
The breach fell away beneath you, a dark, jagged stain on an otherwise pristine sheet that blazed with the fading sunset. The ice plains of Hoth spiraled away until you were in the clouds, crystals freezing on the window as you started to break through the atmosphere. The Crest rebelled, shuddering and creaking as she bullied her way through. Over the roar of the engines you could hear the sound of your heartbeat, galloping like a fathier while you clutched the foundling to your chest. He didn’t give a royal fuck, and you wondered just how much bullshit he’d gone through before you met.
The shuddering stopped when you broke the exosphere, and you watched the secretive ice planet glide out of view. Ideally you would have flown to an on-world shipyard to get repairs, but aside from the ‘friends’ you’d made, there was no sentient life left on the forsaken snowball. The Empire had seen to that. Your star maps indicated that there was an outpost near the system’s rim, but traveling under the speed of light meant you would be on the proverbial road for almost a cycle. At least you had good company.
Sorta. The foundling was a riot, and the two of you sat on the floor and played with the little silver ball that usually screwed onto one of the levers, rolling it back and forth trying to score ‘goals’ against the other; and you were losing by a landslide. Your pilot on the other hand was dead quiet, focused intently on getting to the station. It was just as dangerous not to be in hyperspace as it was to be, though for entirely different reasons. The streaking stars could rip you to pieces if you got your math wrong, but taking a leisurely stroll through the void could make you an easy target for roving outlaws.
The foundling grew bored of the ball game eventually and wandered over to his papa, who pulled the silly creature into his lap to look out at the unmoving stars. The child went right for the flashy buttons on the dash, earning himself a weak scolding and unfortunately inventing himself a new game: bug dad! So many buttons, so many choices! What does this one do? How ‘bout this one? Oooooh, levers! Tiny green paws raised hell from his perfect perch until the metal monolith sighed and hugged the baby tight, making the tiny terror gibber grumpily at his living prison.
“That’s enough, womp rat, we don’t need to crash a second time.” Though he was trying to be stern, Mando couldn’t help but bounce the baby on his knee, making the child giggle sweetly. You glanced quickly at the star maps before joining your crew, noting the distance you had put between here and Hoth and how much further you had to go. There were a few orbits you would have to pass through before you got to the station, and you made a mental note of a planet that seemed to mark the halfway point of your journey.
You joined your boys at the front of the flight deck, lazily draping your arms over your oathsworn’s shoulders and patting the baby on the head. Din leaned his helmet into the crook of your neck while you tried to teach the foundling how to play patty-cake. “Ok hands up, lemme see your- there we go. Hold your paws up like this...” You clapped your hands together and slowly patted the child’s palms in turn, “Say, say oh play-mate, come out and play with me…”
Beans gibbered and laughed, though he wasn’t able to follow along very well, but as long as he was having fun then so were you. You finished a round and grabbed Din’s gloved mitts, holding on to his wrists and making him play with the baby too. He huffed against you, but your ears had long since learned to tell the difference between a disgruntled huff and a contented sigh.
A handful of road trip games ensued until the child yawned, and the two adults yawned with him. Din passed the baby off to you, insisting that he take the first watch and that he would wake you when you were closer to the planet that marked the half-way point.
Snuggled up with the foundling you had yourself a catnap, though more to pass the time than to actually rest. You were dreaming about a parade of Ewoks in funny hats when you felt something tug on your leg. Opening sleep-crusted eyes you squinted at the visor that was in your line of sight and grumbled, “Are we there yet?”
A warm laugh rumbled his beskar, “No, but there’s something I want you to see. Look.” He cocked his head towards the front window, and you followed his gaze to see the jaw dropping view spread out against the transparisteel. You had traveled space for many moons, seen countless wonders that many a spacer had written odes to, but the ships you sailed on rarely got so close to a gas giant as big as this.
It was massive, clouds the color of a raging wildfire swirling over its surface, a fireball of reds and golds that overtook the starry backdrop it hung against in a blaze of glory. A broad splotch of crimson smeared over the atmosphere’s surface, a storm the size of a hundred worlds. Though the celestial sphere was a beauty on it’s own, its crowning jewel was the expansive ring that curled around it. Thousands of miles wide, the glittering bands of ice and nebular material shimmered in the distant light of the star that the planet orbited, and only got brighter as your ship glided closer.
Your captain brought the old gunship in smoothly until the belted disk was directly beneath you, and at this range the rings spread out to infinity on either side of the window from the radiant planet to the void of space; chunks of quartz and silica flashing like flames with the reflection of the gas giant as they disappeared under your keel.
The faint whirring of the ship’s innards didn’t do the scene justice, though her engines seemed to be tuned to a specific note that started a symphony between your ears that soon grew an entire orchestra for your thoughts alone. The rings of the world before you would serve as the staff that the notes rested on for your celestial song, and you let your own mind be the maestro to lead it.
A swell of strings, clear and mellow would rise to the occasion, lifted by a deep harmony of bass. Bows slide over the strings of oaken cellos, low, slow and strong, their notes as rich as gold. Like an outstretched hand their swells beckon a viola to dance. High and fast, beating like a hummingbird's heart. One two three, one two, one two three, one two. Step, slide, spin, throw! The notes become a ballet, the viola pirouettes, leaping from the arms of her cello she soars! Cosmic wings unfurled like solar sails she climbs, higher and higher, her flight sending a meteor shower down to fall on a brassy percussion that serenades the stars.
A minor chord summons the viola back to grace the stage, and she bows before the major key returns victorious. A woodwind competes with the melody, a challenge of fire and ice, knives of frost and bolts of lightning. A rise like a comet burning through the atmosphere fills the astral amphitheater as the polyphonic harmony blends into one single sound. A crescendo blooms the symphony away into the depths of space, and it fades from your thoughts to herald the planet’s dawn to the unending corners of the Universe, pouring like molten gold.
Magnificent.
Spellbound by the music that never met your ears, you were almost startled to feel a gloved hand settle on your arm; careful not to disturb the foundling that you still cradled. You peeled your eyes away from the window to meet with the tilted visor of your companion, giving him a sheepish little smile when you realized he had been watching you. With one hand still on the steering he brushed the backs of his knuckles against the skin of your arm, and you adjusted the sleepy green baby to let one of your hands find your husband’s.
Din tugged gently on your hand and bid you to him until you were seated across his lap in the way you sometimes rested together. Leaning your head against his beskar, you cuddled the foundling and watched the enormous span of rings flow under you. Din only needed one hand to drive, the other wrapped protectively around your back to hug you tight. There was no reason for him to be this close to the planet’s rings, you realized, he had chosen to bring the ship in, just for you to see.
Or maybe just to see you see.
“Thank you.” You whispered against the armor where his ear should be, pressing a kiss to the cool metal as you did. “It’s beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you, mesh’la.”
You’d left your own beskar by your seat, so there was no chime when you knocked your brow against the side of his beskar, but he rumbled against you anyway. With a flick of his wrist he angled the Crest through a thin patch in the ring, flipping the disk over your head. The artificial gravity in the ship was the only source of relativity in the vastness of space, and the change in position gave you a slight sense of vertigo now that you appeared to be flying upside down. The Mandalorian could probably thread the old ship through the rings more adventurously if the busted bird was in better shape, but for now just a few dips would do.
The ship breached back up through the rings once more like a durasteel whale, sailing towards the black smear where the planet blocked the closest starlight from reaching the disk. The shadow of the sphere draped over the rings ahead of you, a blanket of night on an otherwise glaring garter of galactic glitter. Your ship coasted into the umbral shadow, making the daylight side of the planet fade into a sliver of light, eclipsing the stars with a ring of fire. The darkness made the belt nearly invisible, but the stars above glittered brighter than ever against the backdrop of the void.
You’d nearly cleared the dark side when something else glittering caught your eye. Against the black, starless space where the planet was something shimmered.
Something metallic.
From out of the celestial giant’s shadow a wide-winged ship soared out of the umbral cast, the distant starlight shining brightly on its copper-colored hide. A sleek aerofoil, long and flat like a manta ray with a wide receiving port on its bow coasted towards you, casting its own shadow over the planet’s rings. The grip on your back tightened, and a low growl reverberated through the iron underneath you. You’ve got company.
A red light began flashing on the comms panel, announcing that you were being hailed. “The fuck do they want?” You stood up from your armored seat and made to hit the open frequencies button when an armored paw stopped you.
“What are you doing? We have enough to deal with.” His voice was level and cold, commanding like a captain’s should be, and the rasp of it almost made you want to be complicit at his orders. He wasn’t wrong though, you had no guns and barely a ship to sail in, the last thing you needed to do right now was make friends.
You glared at the blank radar screen, giving it a bit of percussive maintenance until the nearby ship flashed to life on the green and yellow field. “Hunk of junk! So what, we're just going to ignore them?” A single stiff nod was your only reply, but the comms light kept flashing away. If they were in distress then they were shit out of luck, because fuck, so were you.
The blinker on the dash was joined by another, more ominous blare: enemy targeting systems locked on. “Shit balls of hell, Din, they’re going to shoot us! Fucking answer them!”
He slammed down on his only option, the busted communications transmitter sputtering to life with a maliciously friendly voice. “Greetings and salutations! You lost, friend? Nobody comes ‘round these parts, especially at such a leisurely pace as you! Don’tcha know how dangerous it is through this system? We’d be happy to… escort you out of the area...”
“No, thank you.” Din barked into the microphone, “We have everything under control.”
“Oh do ya now? I reckon’ by the looks o’ that hackjob holdin’ yer fuselage together I’d say you were in quite a pickle. Haven’t you heard there’s pirates in this neck o’ the woods?”
Pirates. Of course there’s pirates. Your armored companion growled low in his throat, the timbre of it making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. These spacers were threatening his crew, and to him and his Creed that was an act of war. He cleared the venom from his throat before opening the receiver again. “We can handle it, please go about your business.”
The copper ray’s propulsion engines flared as it drifted closer to your ship until it was nearly on top of her, drifting along just behind your stern and casting shadows over your wings. Big. The Crest was nothing to scoff at, but the monstrosity that floated over top of your little old lady could swallow her alive.
It just might.
The voice on the other end chuckled darkly. “Ah but my friend that’s where you’re mistaken, y’see, helping others is our business! And business is boomin’!”
-CruNcHa-krUnCH!-
The rancorous words were articulated with the destruction of something striking your already damaged wings. From the jagged maw on the front of the ray a pair of vicious grapples had coiled around the stinted wings of the Crest, sinking their teeth into her wounded flesh. The old girl lurched when the lines were pulled taut, the screams of twisted durasteel echoing loudly behind the blast doors that protected you from the vacuum of space. Mando swore, “Fucking pirates! As if there isn’t enough bullshit going on-”
You cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. “Let me take the comms, I might be able to negotiate something.”
“I’ve heard your negotiating, I don’t think that’ll help us right-”
“Just let me try? We don’t have much in the way of options.”
For a moment he was still as a statue, then he gave the faintest nod. “Alright.”
You cleared your throat and took a long, deep breath, switching into your best communications mode. “This is the co-captain speaking, We have nothing of value on this ship or anything that would be of use to-”
“Now, listen ‘ere, missy, I know bounty hunter sigils when I see them. Hand over your quarries and your credits and maybe we won’t clip your wings!”
“As previously stated we are not carrying anything of value, including quarries. We were engaged in a skirmish planetside that rendered our ship unfit for hunting. Release our ship and we will exit your domain posthaste.” Ugh, I hate using this voice.
The pirate was silent for a time, then a slow, malicious laugh rumbled through the comms.
“Then I guess we’re taking your weapons as consolation! Prepare to be boarded, bilgerat!”
Fucksake is it that obvious?! Auxiliary jets fired on the grapple’s edges, adding power to the winch aboard the rayship, and the Razor was dragged backwards against the pull of her engines. The wounded bird sputtered and died from the strain, giving up the ghost as the cutthroats hauled her towards the open hangar. You watched as a bluish field slipped over the rounded window, the edge of a magcon field that protected the maw. Your ship wasn’t just being boarded, it was being captured.
The Crest was swallowed whole by the assailing ship, and in a few more seconds your ship was dropped unceremoniously to the floor when the artificial gravity kicked on inside the hanger you now found yourselves in. More screeching metal told you that some of your patchwork had been ripped back open in the hold below. Well fuck, there goes our motherfucking repairs.
“Damn it!” Mando roared, “I thought you said you could negotiate?!”
“I did my fucking best, ok?! I didn’t see you coming up with anything better!” Ahead of you the jaws of the hangar snapped closed, trapping your ship inside the belly of the beast. You scurried back to your seat, grabbing your armor and your guns. “If it’s a fight they want, then it’s a fight they’ll get! We can handle Imps and poachers, I think we can handle some motherfucking pirates, don’t you?” Your armored companion nodded sharply, rising from his seat and drawing his blasters; slamming a fresh cartridge into each one.
“I don’t care how many there are, they’re not getting you or our foundling.” His growl made you shudder, and a nagging thought in the back of your head wondered if you would ever get used to how scary he was sometimes. Mandalorians were drop-dead lethal, and this hunk of metal was no different. Good thing he’s on your side. He snapped his wrist, making an array of lights pop out of a conical prong that jutted off of the vambrace. “I have spoken.”
“Cool.” Beskar slid over your face, replacing your vicious grin with Mandalorian steel. You made to hide the foundling in his pram when something on Mando’s belt caught your eye.
Something red.
Something flashing.
Fast.
You tore his cloak out of the way to yank the flashing bounty fob off of his belt. This is what you get for not checking your pucks! It wasn’t often that quarries just delivered themselves to you, but at least that meant you might save yourselves some fucking fuel. You dug through his pouch to get the accompanying puck, but before you could find out exactly who aboard this copper coated colossus you were hunting, the light on the comms panel flashed again, this time with a secondary light: incoming holo.
Mando slammed down on the receiver, making an image flicker to life where only a voice had once transmitted. A tiny ghost arose from the dashboard, showing the image of a tall, overly dressed Togruta woman. She very much looked the part of ‘space pirate’ in her complicated overcoat that stretched past her knees and the bandanas tied around her montrals and lekku. She was crisscrossed in holsters and belts that were straining under the weight of all the armaments she carried, from blasters to vibros and everything in between. Show off.
Her voice was clear now that your fucked-up transmitters were in such conveniently close range. “Hello hunters, put down your-”
“You listen here,” Din snarled, his teeth biting down on his venomous words. “You’ve made a big mistake, capturing my ship, putting my family in danger-”
Aww he said family. You peeked around your bristling oathsworn to brandish a pistol at the miniature maiden that was making demands of you, but your phantasmal orchestra started to ring the bells of familiarity between your ears. Din was still going off like a Nexu firing his verbal barbs, and it took several good shoves to move him out of the way so you could get a better look at your host.
Though the blue light of the holoprojector gave her a monochrome appearance, her lavender skin and tall swirled montrals were still clearly visible. She smiled arrogantly at your tilted armor, making her sharp fangs glitter like polished pearls and rolling her cheeks right up into her sapphire eyes. It can't be…
You slid your armor to the top of your head, bunching your brows at the tiny, noble-birthed face until they were nearly dancing off of your forehead.
"Alewyn?”
The pirate princess cocked her head, and the whites of her facial markings went wide around her pedigree eyes. “No fucking way!” Her melodic voice chimed with a laugh, “Hunter! Long time no see! What in Maker’s mishaps are you doin' out here?"
"I could ask you the same fuckin’ thing! Hey don't shoot me I'm comin' out!" You could hear Alewyn yelling at her crew to stand down as she hung up on you, and you stood with hands on your hips and a big stupid grin on your face. "How the fuck…"
Behind you Mando was staring at you with that black hole gaze of his, his visor tilted with confusion. "Friend of yours?"
You nodded "You could fuckin' say that!" You scooped up the foundling and patted your partner on the shoulder, trying to be reassuring. It took him a few good breaths to clear the adrenaline from his veins, though his shoulders still jutted wide like he was ready to tackle the entire galaxy to defend his clan. Another twist of his wrist had the little explosives on his vambrace tucking themselves away, and he watched you disappear down the ladder first before following suit.
The Crest's ramp chuggered as it opened, sticking halfway down and forcing you to jump off of it to escape. Your boots hit the hangar floor, putting you in front of almost a dozen of the most ragtag looking bunch of scoundrels you'd ever seen. They were a myriad of species, from Twi'leks to humans and even a Gungan for fucks sake, but what struck you as oddest of all was that they were all ladies. Ferociously armed to the teeth, the gaggle of gals murmured amongst themselves before a loud, commanding voice soared over their heads.
"Move aside you bunch’a blaggards! Lemme greet my guests…” The crowd parted, allowing the newcomer to saunter between them. Long, lavender-swirled montrals waggled on top of the well-dressed and well-armed lady who was making her grand entrance, and you couldn’t help but stare. She walked with an undeniable air of nobility that couldn’t be hidden even by her swashbuckling swagger, the strength of her bloodline showing through even at her most roguish. She swung her arms wide as she rushed you, “Hunter! It is you! Can’t get enough’a me can you?”
"Alewyn! If you wanted to see me again you could have just called!" You took her wild-armed hug with gusto, ignoring the many pokes of the blades you both carried. Stars above, of all the strangers in the galaxy you’d run headfirst into the one and only Princess Alewyn of Shimi, the Togruta woman who you had let escape your bounty so many moons ago. Freeing her had sullied your reputation with the Guild and put a hefty price on your head that had led the most fearsome bounty hunter in the parsec to your doorstep, and eventually into your heart. You had a lot to thank her for, but for both your safeties it was best that you never saw each other again. Yet here she was, decked out in blasters and blades, surrounded by a wild pack of pirates that she no doubt led as their captain. Good for her.
She squeezed you tight, making the child that you had tucked under your arm grunt in protest. The captain stood back from you to get a look at the creature you carried.
"What in blue blazes’s that thing? It’s cute!” She reached out and ran her thumbs over the child's long green ears and pinched his chubby face, making him fuss and bat his tiny paws at her. “Aw I’m sorry pumpkin, I didn’t mean to upset you! My baby girl is so rough’n tumble I forget little’uns are s’posed’ta be soft. She’d love’ta play with you though!”
That’s right! The last time you had seen Alewyn she was defending her swollen belly, ready to shoot you dead if you tried to stop her egress. Your big mean bounty hunter heart couldn’t take the idea of a mother not being able to raise her youngling, and you’d given up your own ship so she could escape. How time flies.
“Alewyn, this is my boy.” You covered his ears, “He’s adopted.” The princess snickered at the obviousness of your statement, but the mirth quickly left her face at the sound of armored thunder dropping down off of the ramp behind you. Her lovely eyes did their best to hide the terror on her face as the Mandalorian you traveled with sauntered up behind you. “And this,” you made a grand gesture of waving at the mountain of living beskar, “Is my partner. Life partner.” You grabbed his hand and threaded your fingers through his, making his helmet tilt just slightly on an otherwise stiff stance.
“Well a’ll be damned, you’ve been busy! But I guess... so have I!” The captain threw her hands in the air, and the crew around her cheered. “Alright you lot! Show’s over, we’ll not be rescuing anything other than these two guttersnipes from that ship.” The fem fatales groaned and roared, laughing and shouting in a multitude of galactic obscenities as they wandered away.
You cocked a hip, jutting your baby out on one side and stabbing your hand to the other with an air of indignation. “Rescuing? You nearly tore our wings off! What kind of rescue operation are you running here?”
Alewyn laughed, bright and chipper. “Let’s just say all bounties aren’t warranted, I should know! Come on, I want you to meet my wife and daughter and the rest of my crew. I can tell you more over some spicewine. Welcome aboard the Sunskate!” She stuck her hand out to you, tugging on you so hard you almost keeled over. You cast a wayward smile over your shoulder at your husband as you were led over the hangar floor to one of the corridors that branched off of the open space. He sighed and looked back forlornly the busted body of the Crest before dutifully following along.
A multitude of crewmates scurried around you as you made your way through the ship on the arm of the pirate princess, listening to her tell you all about her travels. “-and then my dad said ‘Wynnie you disgrace this family with the company you keep! You will marry the duke and stop this nonsense’ blah blah blah.” She made talking motions with her hand, bobbling her montrals with sassy head tilts. “And I said fuck you dad! I’m in love and nothin’s gonna keep us apart!’ Course daddy wasn’t gonna have none’o that, sending fuckin’ hunters after his own daughter.” The sting in her voice was obvious on that last word, anger and pain enunciating her words. “But you know what they say, love conquers all, yeah?”
“Yeah!” You squeezed the foundling under your arm, bringing him in range of a kiss. The sound of armored footfalls echoed behind you, your oathsworn keeping a polite distance. The winding corridors of the Sunskate flowed more organically than anything built on Corellia, and eventually they led you to a recreational space where more of the pirate crew were talking and eating. At the center of the group was another Togruta, this one a gradient from navy blue to bright sunshine yellow. On her knee a tiny cotton-candy colored baby nibbled on the woman’s lekkus, adding fresh marks to her already scarred tendrils.
The infant noticed your approach first, throwing her chubby arms up in the air and flashing her razor sharp teeth in a smile a mile wide. Alewyn let go of your captured hand and strode to the pair. “There’s my girls! Fae have you been trying to eat mama’s lekku again?” Alewyn bent and picked up her daughter, peppering the gibbering baby with kisses before leaning down to kiss the other woman. “Hello kitten, need me to kiss those, make them better?”
“Wynnie you flirt!” The sunrise Torgruta laughed into the kiss that was being pressed to her lips. “Can you be professional for one second?”
“Would you love me if I was?” The princess chided, brushing her palm down the swell of the other woman’s lekku until she had the chewed-up tip of it in her hand. “Fay-fay has done quite a number on these!” She pressed a kiss to the marked skin before turning back around to face you and your own crew. “Lilah, you���re not gonna believe who we picked up! It’s the hunter, the hunter! The one that spared me from carbonite back way back when.”
Lilah stood and reached for your hand, clasping your elbow as she shook it. “Well blow me down, I never thought I’d get a chance t’thank you for what you did.” The handshake slid flawlessly into a brash hug, the air squashed from your lungs in the process. “Thank you for giving me my Alewyn back, her father didn’t exactly approve’a us.” She patted you on the back and held you out at arms length. “I don’t s’ppose you got a name now do ya, hunter?”
“My name is Tra’laar!” You beamed, flexing the sound of your gifted name against new ears. At that Mando placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle pat before falling back down to his side. Lilah’s emerald eyes flickered between your face and the armored man standing at your side, then down to the baby that you carried in your arms.
“Well, Tra’laar, you gonna introduce those two?”
You knocked a knuckle against the beskar of your partner “Oh sure, this is-” Uh…
“Mando.” Din filled in the blank for you, sequestering his true name to be known by his clan alone. He stepped forward and gave a stiff, respectful handshake that made Lilah’s montrals whip with the strength of it. She laughed heartily at his uptight demeanor.
“So, we got Tra’laar and Mando, who’s’s lil’ guy? What’s’s name?” She gently took your foundling from you, and the change in the electricity in the air was palpable. At your side your oathsworn was bristling defensively under his armor, fighting the urge to pull his child away from the stranger you so easily trusted with your precious cargo. You ignored Mr. Scary to ponder the question you had just been asked.
His name...?
HiS nAmE?!?!
Oh fuckadoodledoo! What a question! Nobody in your crew got called their own name that often, from cyare to tinman to Beans the Crest was full of fondly fabricated titles. You’d just accepted it, using what Din called him: the foundling, the child, womp rat sometimes. You usually went for more adoring choices, beans and goobs and booger, but the child never had a real name.
How?! How does this child not have a fucking name?!
The gears in your head spun out of control, you can’t tell these women that your baby's name is Booger! Shit fuck fuck fuck!! Uuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh…
You stared at the child, meeting his nebulous eyes with your own distressed gaze. He tilted and blinked at you as though he could hear the machinations in your head melting together with the friction of them grinding to a halt. Your thoughts went wild, the musicians in your mind dropping their instruments and tripping over their own feet, crashing cymbals and tooting horns in cacophony of confusion.
Green Beans… Goober… Booger...Grooboog… Groobeans... Grooberoo... Grober Gro…
“Grogu.” You didn’t break eye contact with the child, watching as his cosmic orbs lit up like fireworks. “This is our son, Grogu.”
Fucking Maker are you kidding me?! Grogu?! What kind of-
“Patu!” The green terror shrieked in delight, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He churruped and flailed in the wide blue palms of the Togruta woman that held him until she was passing him back off to you. He wiggled like a womp rat in a trap, flashing his tiny toothy grin at you while he wildly patted at your cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, that’s a terrible name.” You whispered to him alone, but he took your whole face in his arms and squeezed, giving you little baby kisses that made your heart flood with warmth. The baby didn’t usually do kisses, that was supposed to be your job. “Do you like that or something? Grogu?” The foundling kissed your nose and butt his forehead against your own,the most sacred show of love known to his clan, his family, and suddenly it just clicked.
Grogu.
You pulled the child to your chest, hugging him tight while you looked at your partner. He was motionless as always, a silver statue catching the fluorescent lights of the wardroom on his many plates. His visor tilted slowly, so imperceptibly slowly that only the light sliding over the black gloss of his singular eye gave away the movement at all. In that moment everything faded away. No more pirates, no more Alewyn and Lilah and pointy-fanged Fae, or their band of misfits. Even the Sunskate disappeared into the background noise of the universe. Nothing else existed except for you, your Mandalorian, and the foundling.
“Grogu?”
The name rasped out of the modulator with gravelly relevance, tentative and soft. Sailcloth ears perked up at hearing his papa repeat the ridiculous name you had bestowed, followed by a pair of fat grabby baby paws reaching towards the metal mountain. The potato sack of a child was passed again, this time into the armored embrace of his father where he could patta-patta on the indents of his cheeks.
“Grogu…” Mando spoke it again, lowering his brow to meet with the baby’s. Seeing the pair of them so close together in that moment almost made you melt into the floor, and you sighed heavily before turning back to your hosts, recomposing yourself.
“Yep, them’s my boys. Mando and... Grogu.” You puffed yourself up, trying your fucking damndest to stay dignified. Alewyn snickered again, sweet and trilling as she leaned over to Lilah.
“He’s adopted.” She whispered, making the other woman giggle as well.
“Good to know, I was starting t’wonder how Mando kept ‘is ears hidden under that helmet’a his.” Her laugh was warm and rich like aged whisky, reverberating around the rec-room. “Welp, you kids wanna stay for dinner?”
You thought back to the ruined ship that you’d left back in the hangar, not going anywhere any time soon. “Yeah dinner sounds great, thanks.” You followed the pair of pirates to where the rest of the crewmates had gathered, preparing to take supper. Mouthwatering scents wafted from the galley while you made friends with the rest of the wild women, getting to know them between the uproars they frequently broke out into. They were rough, undisciplined, and unbelievably vulgar, and you loved every second of it. Though you had a family now, you never really had a people after you left your sailor life behind, but if you did, they would look just like this.
When dinner was served you nearly drooled on yourself, but you forwent eating to feed your son, opting to eat with your partner later. A bottle of spicewine was opened by your rambunctious hosts, and a tall goblet was filled for you more than once, so at least you weren’t insulting them by not accepting any of their offerings. Grogu ate heartily, and in between his bites you spoonfed little Fae who sat in her mama’s lap at the dinner table. Alewyn razzed you several times about not eating her chef's hard-cooked meal, and you slugged her playfully each time.
“So whut, he don’t take that thing’off? How’s’at work?” She said with a mouth full of food, swirling her fork in the air.
“We make it work.” You scolded, and she shrugged.
“Is’e cute?”
Next to you Mando went stiff as a board, and you snorted a laugh, trying to hide your smile with a spoon. He gawked at you behind the visor, thankful that it hid his embarrassment so well.
“Yeah he’s cute, I think so, anyway.” You poked at his armor with your spoon, earning yourself a trademark huff. He didn’t say much for the remainder of the dinner, though your conversations with the runaway royal got progressively more invasive until you could feel the heat coming out from under his beskar.
“Is he human?” Yes
“Does he have a nice ass?” Well obviously, look at it.
“Is’e good in bed?” Fucksake.
“DOES THE HELMET STAY ON?!” Alewyn!!
Lilah scraped her plate directly into her mouth and slammed it back down on the table. “Wynnie leave’em be! Look how fuckin’ red her face is, can’t you tell you’re embarrassing her?” She laughed and shook her head, pouring herself another full glass. “Since yer not gonna eat then you better entertain. Tell me, hunters, do either’a’ya know any songs?”
“Do I- do I know any songs?!” You sputtered, thankful for the rescue but feeling just as indignant. Jumping up from your seat made you wobble a bit from the wine. “Do you know The Ballad of Transport Eighteen?”
Lilah nearly cackled, raising a glass and clearing her throat, “We were thirty-eight crewmen on Transport Eighteen-”
You joined in: “The hour was late and the talk was obscene!”
The towering Togruta stood up, one boot on her chair and one boot on the damn table, and you followed suit, singing the old sailor ditty in unison and waving your wine through the air.
“When the raiders streaked down and their bright lasers cut, some twenty-odd holes through her steel-plated gut!”
The noise the two of you made was absurd, and a handful of other cutthroats joined in with their own ragged voices. By the time you were to the second verse the walls of the Sunskate were ringing with your songs. When you’d finished Ballad, another pirate stood and started up a shanty that you didn’t know, and you did a silly little dance that you were finally getting to learn a new song or two.
Most of the ladies had songs of their own, but after several rounds you were so shitfaced on spicewine that you couldn’t remember them if you tried. But what you could do, at least what the wine told you that you could do, was dance! You swung Grogu around in your arms, kicking your feet and prancing around the room with the rest of the swashbucklers. A bug-eyed Rodian whipped out an instrument that resembled an accordion, pumping out an upbeat ditty that had the whole room stomping. Lilah took Grogu in her arms, holding him next to Fae while you danced with Alewyn, the two of you knocking elbows and spinning one way and then the other, laughing like schoolgirls the whole way.
The shanty slowed way down, letting some of the gals catch their breath or get another swig of ale. You took your son and the Togrutan youngling in your arms so that the captain could dance with her wife. With a babe under each arm you swayed over to your partner, who had only been tapping his foot along to the beat. You dipped Grogu to him, then Fae, swaying in time with the music. Mando brushed a gloved palm over his son's wrinkly little head when it came back to him, tilting his helmet softly.
Fae yawned and rubbed her emerald eyes, and Grogu followed suit. You danced over to where a padded bucket seat was, setting the two younglings down so they could rest and you could free your hands. Sauntering back to your tinman, you took his hands in yours and pulled.
“Mando dance with me.”
He stayed firmly in his seat, “I.. I don’t know how.”
“Pff, neither do I, bucket boy. Just.. just get up here!” You yanked again, and this time he allowed you to pull him along. You held his hands and did your own dance, using him like a mannequin to hold one of his hands up in the air and spin underneath it. He barely moved, too nervous to show any softness in such company. The slow dance started to near its completion, and you moved one of Din’s hands to your waist, lacing your fingers between the other and leaning in close to his audio intake. “Hey, remember that ‘courtship ritual’ you tried on me the other day?”
Heat radiated out from the beskar you were pressed against, any hotter and you could cook an egg on it. “Y-yeah…”
A catty smile crept over your face, “Think you can do it again? I’ll say when.” He was still for a moment, then nodded faintly. You waltzed around him slowly in time with the music, doing the dancing for the both of you until the final stanza was being played. Pressing yourself as close to his body as you could so you would only have to whisper, you met his visor with your own gaze. “...now!”
The arm on your waist went tight, and the one holding your hand twirled you around until you were parallel to the floor, earning a slew of cheers and whistles from the schnockered swashbucklers. You’d known the dip was coming, but your face flushed beet red anyway, and you fought the urge to knock his helmet off and kiss him right then and there. He seemed to feel the same longing, his breath catching in his modulator above you and making his chest heave. You could just imagine it, the feel of his plush lips against yours, the heat of his kiss on your face and the softest touch of his tongue making its way past your teeth to find your own.
“Later.” He whispered, slowly spinning you back up to your feet. Blushing, you nodded, only now realizing that the music had stopped before you were standing back upright. Many eyes on you made your face burn until it was nearly melting off your skull, and you sheepishly looked to your hosts. The Togrutas were sitting back down, though Alewyn was using Lilah as a chair and playing with her lekku.
“You two make quite a sight.” The captain purred, crossing her boots on the table. “Maybe you should get a room!” She shouted with a laugh that had the rest of the crew in an uproar. Inside you wanted to shrink away until you didn’t exist anymore, but brashness and vulgarity came more naturally to you than cowardice.
“We would, but somebody totalled my ship! I’m lookin’ at you two tangle-heads.” You glowered at them with a cocky grin. Alewyn’s chiming laugh coupled neatly with Lilah's oaken bass, perfectly in tune together. The pirate princess twirled the end of her wife’s lekku between her fingers and fixed you with a playful glare.
“Yeah yeah sorry ‘bout that. We can give ya a lift’ta Elgon Station since it’s conveniently on the way. We’re makin’ our way to Thrask to drop that’un off.” Alewyn jabbed a thumb back over her shoulder at a short, pinkish frog woman who had been hiding back in the corner. Between her knees sat a large tankard filled with orangish orbs. The dainty woman croaked with surprise at being noticed finally, hugging her container a bit closer. “Can’t get in’ta hyperspace with that jug’o eggs she’s got there. They’ll pop.”
The ovatious reminder of your last hunt wormed a shiver up your spine, but you shook it off to throw your host a nod. “Thanks, Alewyn, ‘preciate it.” Your host hopped up from her lavish throne, slowly letting her wife’s lekku fall from her hand as she sauntered to you. She reached for your hand and pulled you along behind her, asking you to walk with her through the Sunskate's corridors. Eventually you passed through a bulkhead to the flight deck of her ship, the transparisteel showing nothing but stars as far as the eye could see. A radar screen near the navigation panel blinked with a lazy yellow light, showing the location of Elgon Station where only void met your naked eye.
“Hunter, I wanted to talk to you in private.” Her voice was level, and all traces of her raunchy, spacefaring, swashbuckling accent evaporated, and you were once again talking to the Queen-in-Waiting of Shimi. She didn’t meet your eyes, her sapphire globes flitting between the stars ahead while she locked her elbow to yours. “Remember when we met? I was pregnant with Fae, on the run, just… just trying to get back to my Lilah…” Her voice trailed off at the memory. You nodded, but allowed her to continue without interruption. “If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be standing here right now. Doing exactly what I want to do with my life. I wasn’t cut out for nobility, no matter how badly daddy wanted me to be his perfect little princess, I just wasn’t. He never did take that well.”
She forced a laugh, patting your forearm with her other hand to compose her thoughts. “First and foremost I wanted to tell you thank you,” She turned to meet your eyes with the jewels that sat in her orbits, their vibrancy shining with more stars than there were out the window. “Since that day we’ve been living on the edge, just like I always dreamed of! Taking out hunter ships, sorry about that, by the way, and rescuing their quarries. That fucking Guild of your’s is indiscriminate. Princesses, pirates, popes for fuck’s sake I’m sure.” Her eyes rolled at her own joke. “Not all of them deserve to be carted off in carbonite. I certainly didn’t.”
She took herself off of your elbow and held both of your hands, asking you to face her directly. “Hunt- Tra’laar,” There was an edge of seriousness to her words now, sharp as a dagger with her noble voice. “If you ever want to stop working for those quacta-kissing skuglords, you give me a call, ok? You’re always welcome back aboard my ship. Could use a good pair of asskickers, and your baby boy too, of course.”
The smile on the lavender lady’s face could melt Hoth with its warmth, and you let her pull you in for another hug. “You’re welcome, Alewyn, and thank you for the offer.” You hummed against the side of her montral where an ear might be, though you couldn’t be sure. “I’ll… I’ll consider it.”
“Fair enough.” She stepped back from you, holding you at arms length so you couldn’t escape her eyes.
“Alewyn, were you on the comms? When you roped our ship?” She nodded. “How… how did you know?”
Her head tilted. “Know what?”
“That… that I was a bilgerat.” You spat the word out like it was poison, but the captain only laughed.
“Half of my crew were bilgies at some point, you get an ear for it after a while. Nobody else uses the word posthaste besides those that were raised as boat-brats.” You rolled your eyes at her, relieved and a little offended that she had clocked you so well. She saw your half-hidden embarrassment and decided to dig a little deeper, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Is he good to you?”
Her question caught you off guard, making your brows fly high and your cheeks flush. “Y-yeah, he’s good to me. There’s a lot more to him than meets the eye, y’know.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Like… he’s sweet. And caring. And he loves that boy of ours, he’d die for either one of us, nearly has once or twice. Fuck me sideways you’re nosy!”
Her lilting laugh was bright as a fresh spring day, and just as sunny. “Just checking! You wouldn’t believe some of the stories those women have told. Don’t even get me started on that Gungan! She’s deadly, if you catch my drift.” She said with a wink and a laugh, though you weren’t sure if you did. “But seriously, if he treats you wrong you tell me and I’ll gut him like a fish!”
“I can handle myself, Wynnie!”
“I know that! Just looking out for you is all. I’m glad we ran into each other again, and I’m glad to see you doing so well for yourself.”
“Right back atcha, Captain.”
“Come on, we better get back to our spouses before Lilah challenges your Mando to a fight, she’s dastardly! I love her so much, and our daughter Fayfay. Pair’a lucky ladies, ain’t we?” Her spacer accent returned, coarse and arrogant as ever while she jabbed you in the side with her elbow.
“Unquestionably.” She started to walk back towards the door you had come in from, but you stopped her, grabbing her hand. “Wait. I have something for you.” From your pockets you dug out the blinking fob and puck, stuffing them into Alewyn’s purple palms and closing your fingers over her fists. “Not all bounties are warranted.”
Stars shimmered in her noble eyes the same way they had the first time you’d met, glittering softly when she nodded and pocketed the hunter tools in one of her many secret compartments. You’d never know who the puck was meant for, and you didn’t care.
The captain's frock coat swished against the side of your leg as the two of you walked back to where you had left your crews. Contrary to what she had predicted, the crewmates that weren’t passed out on the floor seemed to be engaged in some kind of discussion, circled around Lilah and Mando in the center. You couldn’t see much over the heads of the many miscreants, but you caught the wave of a sheathed vibroblade in the blue palms of the co-captain’s hands. Mando was listening to whatever it was that she was saying intently, leaning forward as not to miss a single word.
When they noticed the approach of their wives, Lilah smacked your tinman and cut the conversation short, but not before she flashed him a wink and a grin. She stood and pocketed the knife, “There they are! We were startin’ta think you’d gotten lost.” She made an exaggerated gesture of yawning and stretching. “Whelp it’s gettin’ late, since you two ain’t goin’ anywhere any time soon, why don’t you two getcher selves comfortable. We got space.”
You grabbed the plates of cold food from the table and made to follow her when you remembered your foundling. He was still curled up in the padded seat with the Togrutan youngling, though even in her sleep Fae was trying to nibble his ears. You rescued his ear from her relentless biting, but he looked so comfortable that you were reluctant to move him. Alewyn stood beside you and brushed her hand over her daughter’s montral buds, “Let them sleep, they’re safe here.”
Mando loomed over you, and you could feel the reluctance coming off of him without him uttering a single word. You turned and flashed him a look, somewhere between a glare and a plea. “Let’s go eat dinner, then we can come back for him, sound good?” His slight nod was almost nonexistent, but it was good enough for you, and you followed your host to one of the many extra quarters that the Sunskate boasted.
You waved a thank you to the departing co-captain, ignoring the lecherous wink that she gave you before walking into the modest suite. The room was small, though not cramped, and it even had a little porthole for you to look out of, fancy! Instead of beds there was a broad hammock hanging in the corner, heaped with blankets and quilts; an unusual choice in space but welcome nonetheless. The Togrutans made sure that any of their ‘rescues’ would be comfortable, though you were curious as to how both of you would get in the hammock. But first, dinner.
A small table and singular chair wouldn’t be enough for the two of you, so you plopped down on the floor and beckoned your partner to you. He glanced around the room, suspicious as always, then closed the door and carefully dropped to the floor behind you. You dug in, shoveling much-needed sustenance into your gob, but your partner remained still. You turned to him with a mouthful of food, “You gonna eat?”
“There might be cameras, or people watching. I can’t-”
“Fuckin’ bucket, hang on.” With a groan you set your plate back on the floor and wobbled over on your knees to the hammock, tugging one of the blankets off of it and accidentally pulling down the entire stack. Picking what you guessed was the biggest you fluffed it in the air and draped it over his head, giggling as you snuck underneath your blanket fort with him. “How’zat?”
Hissing latches answered you, and the offending beskar fell away to reveal the handsome man that had remained hidden from you for so long. “Thank you, cyar’ika.” Dinner was obliterated in a matter of minutes, but once you’d both finished you stayed under the covers with him, just to enjoy seeing his face in the low light. Scooting around to his front, you brushed the side of your face against his, feeling the stubble on your skin. He hummed and nuzzled against you, bringing his hands up to cup your jaw and slide you over for a much-awaited kiss.
He tasted like dinner, but the scent of him was strong, and the combination of flavors and smells made you giggle a bit. Din’s lips were soft against yours, gentle and tender and a little ticklish from his facial hair. Arms wrapped around you and hauled you up into his lap, making you gasp faintly into his unbroken kiss. Seated on his lap side saddle, you kissed him with vigor, only now aware of the twinge of jealousy you had felt at the two lekku-laden-ladies getting to kiss each other whenever they wished. Speaking of…
“So, what were you and Lilah talkin’ bout?” you asked directly into his mouth. A sharp little inhale hinted that maybe you’d caught wind of something secret.
“She was just giving me some… uh… suggestions.” Even in the dark of the pillow fort you could see heat rising to his face. Like a knife you dug in deeper.
“Ohoho? What kind of suggestions?”
A boyish smile tugged on the edges of his lips, and his eyes went a little darker. “Why don’t you let me show you instead?” Warm lips were pressed to yours again, longer and deeper with every kiss. You were only marginally aware of the change in your position, slowly being lowered onto your back while his tongue pushed its way to yours; licking into your mouth. Soon you were laying down fully with him over top of you, caging you in with his metal plated arms. You felt him shuffle, then an ungloved hand snaked its way to your shirt, tugging it up over your head and taking your mask with it.
A strong hand kneaded at the pillowy flesh of your breast, letting the weight of it fill his palm. Warm fingertips pinched at your nipple, rolling the sensitive bud gently til it pebbled between his callouses. The sensation pooled heat in your belly and tightened in your guts, but this wasn’t anything new. Appreciated, for sure, all of his touches were, though you couldn’t help but wonder if this was what was suggested. His kisses continued in tandem with his fingers, building with intensity until his teeth were biting at your lower lip and tongue, catching the sensitive skin in his sharp bite.
Hot breath fanned against your neck as he tilted his head to chase along the edge of your jaw, letting the bone’s curve lead him to the soft spot under your ear. He wrapped his lips around your earlobe, and the nick of sharp teeth coupling with the steam in your ear made your eyes flutter and roll. You tried to kiss at his neck, wanting to repay the favor, but the teeth on your ear snarled and sank into the meat of your pulse point, making you cry out against him. Biting turned to sucking, his fervent kisses pulling the tender skin up and leaving blooming welts to mark you as his.
His hand left your breast and disappeared from your body, but you were too busy worrying about having your throat ripped out by the man who had you pinned. Of course he wouldn’t hurt you, but the flight instinct was still there, making your heart try to pound out of its cage when those sharp canines bore down on your larynx. Without taking his vicious teeth from your neck, he started digging at your belt, and you let your body relax since you knew what was next.
The hand came back up, forcing a needy groan out of your captured throat from his teasing, but your eyes snapped wide when you felt cold metal on your skin. Din released your throat and met your eyes with his half-hooded honeywells, bearing his teeth to you in a wolfish grin. “Cyare…” he purred with a lust laden drawl. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop, but I want to… try something.” You weren’t looking at him though, you were looking at the blade that he had drawn, the edge of it pressing into the side of your neck.
“Um… ok… I trust you.” Eyes wide with fear and stuck fast to the knife you watched him move it down your chest over your sternum. “Do not cut my clothes off.” You scolded, and he hummed a deep, dark laugh. The blade coasted over your belly, your belt line, and then sat right at the top of your mound, sending adrenaline burning through your veins. What the hell?
Leaning back from you, Din rocked up to his haunches and traced the sharp edge of the vibro over where your slit pushed against the duraweave, and you furrowed your brows at him trying to decipher just what the fuck he was up to. Please don’t stab me in the snatch. From your belt he tugged the empty leather sheath off and slipped it over the knife, then holding it by the blade end he flipped on the thrummer, making the vibroblade come alive in his hand.
“Are you ready, cyar’ika?”
Shrugging, “Yes? I still don’t- ooo-ooo-ooh-hhhh~!” Your entire body tensed up when he pressed the vibrating hilt to your crotch, using his whole body to keep your knees from snapping together. The muscles in your abdomen convulsed, forcing your hips to cant upwards with each shaky spasm. “F-f-f-fuuck! Th-th-hat’s n-n-ne-ew-ew-w!” You stuttered through clenched teeth like you’d been shot with a pulse rifle, but this was a thousand times more pleasurable. Even through the thick fabric of your pants the strength of the vibrations felt raw, untethered. Hands dug like claws into the blanket’s edge, knees squeezing at armored shoulders, eyes screwed shut. The intensity was overwhelming, and your bootheels scootched out from under you when you tried to find your footing, squirming on the floor like an electrified worm.
The knife was pulled away from you and its vibrator silenced, and you were instantly torn between happy to catch a break and desperate for its return. With blurred vision you squinted at him in the low light, panting and shaking. He had used no effort whatsoever to coax you so close to climax, and the pride of it was obvious across his face.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Bared teeth and a snarl was all you could muster, and you stabbed your thumbs down to your belt, trying to pull your remaining clothes off. Din grabbed you by the hem and yanked, nearly ripping your pants off to expose you to him. The salacious humming started again, and you stuck your tongue out between your teeth in a wry grin that was obliterated in seconds when the pommel found your clit. High pitched cries broke their way out of your throat as the Mandalorian softly rubbed his fun new toy around the pearl of nerves that quickly spun you to a frenzy. Every muscle in your body went tighter than a guitar string, making your back arch and quiver until Din was pushing a palm to your sternum, holding you down against the floor. Aside from keeping you in place he exerted barely any effort, meanwhile you were being flung into hyperspace, trying not to lose your mind.
Molten lava burned in your veins and your tightened muscles, an eruption building quicker than you knew how to stop, and the fire of it nearly burned you alive when it combusted. Knees jerked and claws scratched when you came, and through the feverhaze of it you were almost aware of your scream. You squirmed in his grasp, the singing dagger playing its song with your own vocal cords, unable to stop coming. Hot slick coated your thighs, drenched them, flooded them, fuck! Blinded by your ecstasy you wailed, crying and straining, begging him to stop. Only when the knife left your swollen, engorged clit did you notice the tears in your eyes, pooling in their corners and streaking down your cheeks.
You threaded your hands through your own hair, trying to force yourself back down out of hyperspace. A question was posed to you that you didn’t hear, one that was repeated a second time. “Are you ok?”
“Fuuuuuuuck...” Was all you could come up with. You felt him shuffle between your legs, and you jerked when his hands found your drenched cunt. Warm, villainous laughter oozed against your ears.
“That’s a good girl, coming so hard for me. Did you like that?” Breathless, you nodded. “Hmmm… I wonder if you can do that again.” His fingers slid up your sopping wet pussy, soon joined by the vorpal blade and making you choke on the air in your throat. Long, calloused fingers pumped in and out of you, digging at the sweet spot he had so expertly learned to find, working in tandem with the vibro that was spinning you right back up faster than you could think. “Come on, come on my hands, ner riddur, give me all you- oh!” You sucked air between your teeth in a silent scream and bore down on his fingers with bone-breaking strength to squirt a hot splash of cum all over his hand and wrist. “Holy shit.”
“Th-that’s not u-usually what… what someone w-wants… t-to hear after th-they come…” You let your legs drop to the sides, letting you get a glance at the man between your legs. He looked mystified, staring at his hand and wrist and vambrace with some kind of mix between arousal and reverence. He licked a broad stripe up his wrist and palm, taking each of his fingers in his mouth one at a time to lick them clean. You sneered at him, “Dirty boy.”
He pulled the last of his soaked fingers out of his mouth with a pop!, glaring at you with hooded eyes that swirled with desire. “Dirty? I’ll give you dirty, cyar’ika. Flip over.”
“Make me.”
Din growled and wrapped his arms around your boneless form, flipping you effortlessly on to your knees. He stuffed his own legs under your hips, keeping you up off the floor that you so desperately wanted to melt back down onto. He freed himself in short order, giving himself a couple of warm up tugs before he was thrusting his length into you; but rather than fuck you stupid he just let himself fill your folds as if he was warming his cock.
You were about to give him hell when you heard the -wrrrrrrrrr- of the vibro again, and suddenly you didn’t need him to move for you to be pleasured. The wet, slick pommel tapped against your clit, and every muscle in your gut snapped tight, curling you nearly into a ball. Behind you you could hear him hiss through clenched teeth, and the little spasms from his thighs told you that he was enjoying the toy as well. Again you were sling-shot to your climax faster than you could process it happening, making you clamp down on his thick, girthy length and forcing a choked moan from the Mandalorian that was lost so deep inside you.
He fell forward against the curve of your back, trying to roll up in a ball as well, but you were conveniently in the way. The cold of his beskar stung against the arch of your spine, but the heat coming off of you warmed it right up. Hot breath puffed against the back of your neck, followed by the nick of sharp teeth and the drag of a flattened tongue. He slid a hand up between your breasts to your collarbone and he fell backwards to his haunches again, making you straddle his legs with him still buried in your heat. You were squished as tightly to his chest as he could get you, and the knife’s blunt end was pressed again to where you were joined together.
Little thrusts were all he could manage in the throws of the vibrators strength, as if you could do any better, squirming and thrashing on the spear that split you while the vibro tore another climax from you. If your eyes had been open you would have gotten to see yourself come, the glistening splash flying out from where the hilt met your swollen bud and coursing hot down Din’s shaft and balls til it was dripping onto the floor. You mewled against the side of his scruffy jaw, feeling the tears spring to your eyes from the overstimulation; but thankfully it didn’t last too much longer. He gasped and growled in your ear, pressing the vibro against the marriage of your slick lips and his throbbing cock, and a handful of short, desperate thrusts were all he needed to drop over the edge of ecstasy with you; adding his own cum to the growing pool between your knees.
The vibro was dropped, rattling on the floor until you bent down and grabbed it, flipping the switch and silencing its song. Ragged panting filled the tiny space of the blanket fort, yours high and shaky, his deep and growling like a wild animal. You reached back and found him, tangling your fingers through his soft curls, digging into them so his face was pressed against yours. Bristles tickled your skin with each breath, followed by sloppy, needy kisses. His lip dragged against your skin, whispering praises in your ear and sneakily trying to eat you alive. Teeth nipped at your cheek, then down your jaw, finding the spot that he had started with and sinking them into your tender flesh a second time. A third. Fourth.
“Din p-please!” You begged, your voice going higher and whinier than you had intended, but he ignored you, lost in the wellspring of desire that he called his wife. He licked a broad stripe up from the crook of your shoulder to the bottom of your ear.
“I like it when you beg.” He bit down and sucked, turning your throat into a red and purple patchwork of his territorial markings. “You sound so pretty. So needy.” His cock throbbed between your legs, refusing to soften just yet, forcing another hot gush of your mixed cum to flood down your thighs. A broad hand snaked its way to your tormented throat, squeezing ever so gently but still making you gasp. “I want you to beg every time I breed you.” His armored embrace constricted around your ribs and throat, making you choke on the air you so desperately needed. He forced his cock in just a little deeper before pulling his length out, making the head of it bob against your engorged cunt and sending shivers through every inch of your body.
You were gently lowered from his arms, flopping on the floor like a glob of useless jelly. The Mandalorian laid down on top of you, slowly returning to his loving, doting self. He kissed at the welts he had put on your neck, each one a delicious combination of pain and pleasure. Dark, lust-soaked eyes became soft and doelike again, watching your heaving form with adoration under lifted brows. He kissed your lips tenderly, plush and promising, gentle as a rose petal and just as sweet.
“Are you alright? I’m sorry if that was a little rough…”
You shook your head, feeling your brains slosh around in your skull, drowning in dopamine. “What? That wasn’t rough, I’ve seen you rough, but that was… different.” A little pouty face told you that might not have been the best word to pick, so you tried again. “That was amazing, but maybe we should invest in an actual toy instead of using the same tools we use for work.” That got you an excited nod and a dazzling smile. Realization dawned on you, “Is that what Lilah suggested?!” His magnificent smile went sheepish under bright red cheeks, and a slow nod made the curls on his head bounce. “We should hang out with them more often...”
The Mandalorian laughed, kissed you deeply once more, and pulled his helmet back on, allowing the two of you to get back out from under the blanket fort. You readjusted your clothes and armor, making yourself presentable, then strode over to the door to go find your foundling. The bulkhead door lugged open, and you swore you saw something, or someone, dashing down the hallway. Was someone eavesdropping!?
You didn’t see anyone until you got to the rec-room where you had left your child. Grogu and Fae were still curled up in the padded seat, but the seat itself had been scootched closer to where the Torgrutas had fallen asleep in their chair. You stepped over the handful of pirates that had passed out on the floor until you could get to your foundling. He gibbered at you, and you tucked him under your arm, jumping slightly when you caught the glint of green eyes.
Lilah watched you drowsily, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and the ice froze in your veins at how well she had read you. She winked and hugged her Alewyn closer, burying her face in the other woman's lekku and letting you escape ungoaded.
The ship was quiet all the way back to your room, and you tucked back into the little suite with your foundling in hand. He had woken up during the walk and chirruped at you sleepily, cooing softly when he saw his papa as well. “Fucksake...You know what I need? A shower! You want a rinse, Grogu?” He chittered at the sound of his goofyass name, and you held him up to your nose, tickling him your sniffs. “Hm… Nope, you’re good. Stay here and keep papa company, won't cha?” Grogu chirped with what you decided was a ‘yes, buir’, and you set him down in the hammock. “What about you, tinman? Shower?”
Din was seated in the little chair, cleaning the stains from his armor, stains you had made. “No thank you, I’d like to keep my armor on while we’re here.” You shrugged, since you were used to his strange rituals by now, and strode into the fresher room to find something you hadn’t seen in a long fucking time.
A mirror.
In the fresher stood a formidable figure, though definitely one that needed a fresh change of clothes. There were no mirrors on the Crest due to some kind of mando mumbo jumbo, though you guessed if you spent all your life in the same outfit you really wouldn’t need to know what it looked like every day. You leaned on the modest sink to inspect the bags under your eyes and pick at something on the side of your nose, the tilt of your armored crown catching the light and drawing your eyes. The beskar slid around its pivots until it covered your face, and you stared at the warrior before you.
Maker above, is that what I look like? No wonder that merchant had fled from you so quickly, the sight of your armored visage was terrifying, just as ferocious as the bonafide Mandalorian you traveled with. You tilted your head and jutted your chin, trying to intimidate your own reflection as if that was difficult. The foggy vanity lights streaked like quicksilver over the beskar and the black gloss of your visor, catching faintly on the embossed mudhorn on your brow. You reached a hand up to brush over the raised emblem, feeling it with your fingers and watching how the light moved over its curves.
You were just reaching the tip of the animal’s horn when your doppelganger was joined by another armored hunter. Standing behind the woman in the mirror was a large, broad shouldered Mandalorian, his own visor rising a whole head above hers. He towered above her, tilting his helmet slightly while he rested his palms on her waist. The yellow tipped gloves coasted down her sides to her hips and pulled her backwards, and you could no longer ignore that the show you were watching was your own reality.
“Hello, mesh’la.” Din pressed his chestplate to your back and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly to his armored chest. Though he had gotten his armor cleaned he still smelled like sex, sweat and sweetness; the mix of your bodies pooling together like your arousals had pooled on the floor. He tucked the edge of his helmet against the side of your neck, and you turned enough to chime your beskar softly against his. The ironsong rang clear and true over a rumbling hum.
“Hiya bucket boy.” You set one of your palms on where his were overlapped on your middle, bringing the other one up to hold the indent of his cheek. He leaned his weight on your back, rocking with you slightly.
“How did you come up with that name, Grogu?”
“I’m… I’m not really sure.” That wasn’t a lie, though it felt like it was. “I’m sorry, I know It’s terrible, we can change-”
“No, it’s perfect. Did you see his face when you said it?” You nodded softly, thankful for the beskar that covered your shyness. “He likes it, that’s what matters.” His gloved hands brushed over the fabric of your tunic, wrapping one around your waist and crossing the other between your breasts like a seatbelt. “You make a very good buir. I’m proud to call you my mate.”
Your face stung against the cold of your faceplate, flushing with heat at his term of endearment. “Aww you like me.” You whispered with just a touch of sass, blushing at his adoration. The hand on your middle slid lovingly over your tummy before moving up your chest with more direction. In the mirror you watched your reflection as she was attended to by the man behind her. His gloved hands came up to her mask and lifted it gently away, setting it down on the counter. It was hard to break your own eye contact, but those yellow tips of his gloves were so much more fun to watch.
Din brushed the back of his hand down your cheek, setting his fingertips on the bottom of your chin before dragging them down the expanse of your bruised neck. For a moment you thought he was aiming for your breasts, but instead his palms came to rest on your shoulders. His own armor plated shoulders stuck wide out past yours nearly by the entire width of his arms, dwarfing you with their size. You were just about to ask him what he was up to when you felt his thumbs dig into the meat of your back, making you groan whorishly at the sensation.
“Does that feel good?” You could barely nod, letting the circles his thumbs were making do the work for you. The feeling of him working the knots out of your shoulders hurt so good, and you let your eyes close while he massaged your back. His wide hands captured the muscles in your back with ease, diligently kneading the residual tension away. He pushed the pads of his thumbs closer to your spine, and you heard the crack-crack-crack of your vertebrae popping with each honed squeeze.
You had to lean on the counter for support, though your Mandalorian wouldn’t let you fall no matter what. Din’s hands followed the path of your spine, rolling strong circles into the aching muscles and putting extra pressure on each rib joint to get them to pop. His fingers hugged the bottom of your rib cage once he’d made it that far down, keeping you in place as he slid his circles down to the top of your pelvis. The pressure on your sacrum had you arching your back into his hands, more or less accidentally pressing your ass into his groin. He pushed back, but maybe more to keep you steady then to be suggestive.
Deft hands glided back up your spine, and you flickered your eyes back open to see the pair of you in the mirror. Heat returned to your gut at the sight of the massive mountain of metal standing behind your bent figure, pressing his hips tightly to yours. You bit your lip and smiled at him in the mirror, watching the way his visor cocked at the look you were giving him. “You seem to be very good at picking up new tricks, tinman.”
He shrugged, “I just want to take care of you.” What an understatement that was. You and the foundling were his everything, there wasn’t a single thing in the entire universe that mattered more than the two of you. You were his wife, his riddur, the living culmination of all his dreams and desires strutting around like you owned the place; and he was honored to be asked to stand in your presence. “Can I get you anything?”
“Hm…” Poking your head into the shower you inspected the soap that was provided, giving it a tentative sniff. It smelled like a girl, flowery and pretty and not at all what you were expecting from a literal pirate ship. It wasn’t for you. “Don’t happen to have any of our soap on you, do ya?” He shook his helmeted head, and you batted your lashes at him with a pleading pout. “Pwease would you get me some of our soap? Please… oh please?” You begged him sarcastically, reveling in the way his shoulder puffed up while you exploited his kink. His cape billowed behind him he spun around so fast, dashing out of the fresher and the room without another word. Laughing, you turned on the shower, letting it heat up a bit before you got in.
The curving hallways of the Sunskate were quiet and dark, save for the few gravediggers that ambled through the corridors, sipping at their piping hot caff. Soon the hangar doors parted, and he felt a wave of sadness at the sight of his ship. The old dropper had been through so much, but at least she was still kicking. As he got closer he noticed a few tools scattered around the area and a fresh, silvery patch job that had been added to the side of her hull. Somebody has been busy. He ghosted a hand along a welding scar, it wasn’t enough to get her starborne, but it would keep her from dissolving into a heap of scrap metal when you reached the station.
He would have to find out more later, for now he was on a mission: soap! Climbing up the half-hanging ramp he strode to the ladder, hauling himself up to where all of your utilities were stashed. You had packed like you were on the run, shoveling shit in wherever it would fit, and Din was cursing to himself at the mess he was sifting through. While he was at it he grabbed you some fresh clothes, filling up a little satchel with goodies for his lovely, can’t-pack-worth-a-shit wifey-poo.
The smell of fresher soap caught his nose, and he dug down into a deep crate, looking for his objective. He pulled a rifle out, a bundle of towels, an electric kettle, the smell growing stronger the deeper he got. A severed tusk was tossed aside, then a full thermos.
-sloshCLAck!-
Din stopped his search at the noise, clack? He picked up the impromptu quarry capture device and shook it carefully. -slosh-clack-slosh-clack-
That was very much not the noise it had made when he had filled it, distinctly remembering the sound of a metallic plonk instead. Heebie-jeebies prickled under his many layers, and morbid curiosity drove him to place his hand on the lid. No! What if it’s alive? He set the canister down and fished a knife from his belt, holding it in his pinkie while he unscrewed the lid. Heart in his throat and breath held firm he opened the jar, pointing the end of his blade at the syrupy goop that sloshed around, ready to stab anything to death should it try to jump him.
Nothing moved.
He swirled the container, watching the holographic slime shimmer on top of the large purple pod that had sunk to the bottom, and he heard the metallic noise again. Running out of air, he carefully poked his blade into the pool of nectar, nudging the seedpod out of the way to reveal something sitting underneath. Using the vibro’s tip he scraped the curio up out of the goop, slamming the lid back on the jar the moment he had whatever it was in his hand.
The deep breath he took filled his lungs with the residual essence of the hydra’s perfume, sending fresh blood to his spent cock. Focus, Djarin. Glistening in his palm was the tiniest microchip, about the size of a grape and roughly the same shape. On one side it had a set of tiny legs with little grips on their tips, designed so that it would stay in place wherever it was at. Had this been what the bounty was for? Maybe it wasn’t the pods at all, maybe it was this thing. Though what was it doing all the way down at the bottom of a cave?
He bumped it with the tip of his knife, getting it to stand on its feet and making the rainbow sludge slowly reveal the item in its entirety; and suddenly he had more questions than answers.
Blood turned to ice in his veins, freezing him solid. There, in the light coming off of his helmet, proudly stamped on the top of the device, was an emblem. It was a circle with a gear in the center, sort of shaped like a snowflake with a second gear hollowed out in the middle. It wasn’t popular any more, but Din had seen it many times in his life, most recently when Moff Gideon tried, and failed, to take his son away from him.
But the first time he had seen it had been burned into his memory for decades. Emblazoned on the sides of gunships and walking tanks that rained decimation on to his adopted homeworld, purging all life from Mandalore and turning the wartorn planet’s surface into a sea of glass.
It was the mark of the ones who had tried to hurt the child.
It was the mark of the ones who had decimated his clan.
It was the mark of the people who would destroy entire planets just to assert their dominion over the citizens they subjugated.
It was the mark of the Empire.
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teelagurl558 · 3 years
Text
Making Shakespeare Entertaining
In which Mandrea gets to have some fun while her mentor works. Crowley declares the true nature of their relationship.
Other Adventures of Mandrea
Tumblr media
words: 1,992
Warnings: language, harrassment of innocents via Spider Form, teenage angst, cute dumb demons
Crowley grumbled to himself as he eyed the Globe Theatre. The angel always was a superfan of the classics, but Crowley not so much. This was a bore and a chore and a whole lot of grumbling he’d have to endure from his apprentice later, who was now eyeing the place with disapproval that mimicked his own.
“He wants to meet you… here?” She asked incredulously. Crowley sighed. He couldn’t blame her for being a bit grumpy, for he could tell how much like him she truly was. Crowley also knew that was partly why Hell didn’t like her and had kicked her up to Earth to be with him, but he wouldn’t say that to her. Not now at least. Now, he was just having yet another moment of questioning if he somehow really could have spawned her himself.
“Yeah, he’s a bit of an odd duck as you might remember. Just go and entertain yourself, stay near enough I can find you after. I can handle this if you don’t want to join,” he told her.
Mandrea shrugged, nodded, and stepped down a side path when he went inside, adjusting the dark glasses they’d luckily found her. She’d hated wearing veils the last few centuries.
Immediately after finding the angel Crowley made sure to make it known he wasn’t a fan of Shakespeare’s tragedies, but Aziraphale paid him no mind and enthusiastically encouraged both the terrible actor and the dramatic writer present. Then the angel turned to him, eyed him up and down, and quickly averted his gaze back to the stage.
“Sent back your apprentice, have you?” He asked. Crowley raised an eyebrow and frowned. Did Aziraphale already dislike her? Well, he supposed the angel had only really met her once. And Crowley had only just begun to win him over with any sort of allying. It just didn’t sit right that he would already dislike someone who was so innocent in Crowley’s eyes.
“No, she’s around somewhere. Bit more bored of this sort than I am, even. We prefer the funny ones.”
Aziraphale spared him a glance, pleased to hear that the demon still seemed to like his charge. “I see. Interesting way of teaching her the art of demonic temptation, giving her freedom. I suppose I should expect this kind of reckless behavior of you though.”
Crowley took one look at the little cheeky smile just barely crossing the other’s face and scowled. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, Angel, but she’s doing just fine learning. She’s just a kid anyways, not like she really has the power to do all that yet.”
“Just… a kid?” Aziraphale asked, turning to the demon. There was a bit of a whimpering onstage, but he was more intrigued by Crowley’s words. Angels--and by extent, demons--were never… kids.
But Crowley nodded as if it made perfect sense, his shaded eyes following the stage with more interest now. “Yes. She was, well, she was the last of us to be made. Never quite had the chance to develop her powers before things went south.”
“You mean, before you both Fell?”
Finally, the demon gave him his full attention, now a bit defensive. “Some of us may have Fallen, Angel, but in my book Mandrea is innocent and she should be in your high and mighty one too,” he hissed, calming himself and turning to face the stage again. “Just got caught in the wrong crowd is all. Got caught fooling around following me when I didn’t even have a clue what was coming.”
The seriousness, the slivers of ancient guilt in Crowley’s voice made Zira think perhaps he was judging the small demon too harshly. She was a demon, just like her master, but… neither of them seemed inherently evil or malicious. With a hum, he turned back to see Hamlet’s speech, which Crowley was eyeing with some hint of what looked like pride, and a lot of that zipped right back out of his head.
The actor was holding up marvelously, given the circumstances, but Aziraphale almost shrieked as he realized why the young man had been whimpering. Skittering with quiet thumps along the wooden stage was a spider near the size of a cat, covered in reddish brown hair and definitely not native to this region. The creature circled the actor, but any attempt at a cry for help was shushed by Shakespeare, who was busy talking with some important guests and wanted the show to absolutely continue. He couldn’t see the tarantula which began crawling gingerly over Hamlet’s toes, dodging his stomps with grace and finally hopping onto a raised boot.
Hamlet flung the creature with a quick wail, visibly relaxing when it landed somewhere in the empty stands and halting his tirade at Shakespeare’s signal. The playwright hurried over to the audience of two, asking for more enthusiasm, and trying to sate his angry actor.
But the angel couldn’t quite focus on the conversation. Aziraphale frantically watched for where the spider would emerge, noting with great irritation how proud and giggly Crowley seemed. It all made sense when, around the corner of a pillar, he watched the creature morph out of sight back into the demon Mandrea.
With a little adjustment of her dark sunglasses, Mandrea sauntered over towards them, swaying her hips. She wore an off-shoulder corseted gown that would’ve been considered gorgeous for this era had Aziraphale not known she was a demon, and the tarantula which had harassed Hamlet near to tears. Mandrea gave a very pleased grin to the two, curtsying lightly to Aziraphale.
“Fancy meeting you here, Sir Aziraphale of the Table Round,” she teased quietly. Aziraphale sputtered.
“How could you cause such a ruckus, he was doing so well before!” the angel hissed.
The two demons shared a look, and Crowley offered her his arm with a shrug.
Mandrea giggled. “I think he’s got a lot of practice to accomplish, and why not get him accustomed to monstrous distractions?”
“It was pretty funny,” Crowley told her, still cackling in her ear. “I’ll say good job on that one, Drea.”
The angel kept sputtering, mostly to Crowley now, as Mandrea felt the presence of eyes on her. It wasn’t an uncommon feeling, this body having apparently been deemed attractive to mortals, but the stare was one that felt heavy with action behind it. Perhaps this was a mortal she could tempt, or even simply have something to play with while her mentor and the angel talked business. So, to test the theory, she disconnected herself from Crowley’s arm and drifted closer to the stage, feigning interest as best she could.
Mandrea could feel the eyes on her, and the yearning swell. Much to her surprise, the mortal that approaches is one of Shakespeare’s special guests from a different side of the theater. By the cost of his clothes and the swagger in his step, he was likely a noble.
“Pardon me, fair lady,” he cooed, reaching for her hand. She bestowed one upon his with vague interest, and he brought Mandrea’s icy knuckles to his lips.
He cleared his throat, and she let her presence push him to speak his mind. “I, erm, I wanted to ask if I could watch with you.”
No, he didn’t. Mandrea simply hummed and nodded, straightening her posture and folding her hands before her skirt. She could feel the hunger in his gaze, but she could also sense Crowley still keeping his eye on her, if she happened to somehow be caught unawares by this mortal.
“Those men there, are they your brothers? Is one perhaps… your husband?”
A ginger eyebrow raised, and she was impressed a little by his bravery. “I am unmarried.”
“Unmarried? A young, blooming beauty such as you?” he replied, very dramatically. Mandrea stifled her distaste and let him kiss her hand again. “How could such a sin be, fair maiden? Any with eyes could see you are truly a treasure.”
“Hmm.” Mandrea wanted to see how this played out. She wouldn’t of course give him what he wanted, that would be malicious beyond even normal demonic whim for her to court a mortal man. But Mandrea liked the attention, she liked someone doting on her and enjoying her company after so many millennia of her own kind’s loathing.
“Please, I beg thee, fair maiden. Let me treat you,” the nobleman continued, tugging her gently closer by the wrist. “Let me court this mysterious beauty, take you to dine with me--”
He wanted her, Mandrea could sense, but he didn’t intend to harm her. She liked the attention, and let him pull her just a little closer before she gave him a taunting smirk.
Mandrea’s voice came out like a siren’s deadly hiss, melting the nobleman’s will on the spot. “I beseech thee, milord. Do you think you could tame a soul dark as mine?”
However, the moment he reached for her other hand, nimble fingers latched onto his like a claw catching its prey and there was a distinct rageful hiss in the air.
“What do you think you’re doing with her?” Crowley growled venomously.
The nobleman seemed to come out of her trance, only to bristle with hostility, still holding Mandrea’s other wrist. “That is none of your concern, sir. Who are you to speak for the lady?”
That took Crowley aback, and Aziraphale paled. He had come closer as well, just beyond the demon’s shoulder watching Mandrea turn bright red in the face, and the young Lord challenging a demon.
“I--” Crowley spent only a mere millisecond in hesitation, then quickly spat out his response and tilted his head to flaunt his yellow eyes. “I’m her father. Now get out of my sight before I wring your stupid neck.”
Mandrea’s eight eyes bulged beneath her glasses. Aziraphale watched the shock wash over her face, and a little bit of a quiver came to her lip, so subtle he almost missed it. The nobleman had become pale as a ghost, likely believing Crowley was indeed her father. They did look quite alike, Aziraphale noted; Mandrea’s fiery locks simply seemed a tied back cutting straight from Crowley’s head, their angular faces quirking in the same ways. Without much more than a sputtering apology the nobleman practically sprinted back to his friends like a dog with its tail tucked.
“Crowley, you’re embarrassing me again!” Mandrea croaked. Aziraphale noted with a little joy how there was still emotion left in her voice from Crowley’s claim.
Crowley only laughed, tucking a finger under her chin. “Au contraire, my dear girl, I have not been embarrassing you enough.”
There was so much expression in her face when she rolled her eyes away from him that it could be seen even with her sunglasses. But then, a little cheeky and somewhat nervous smirk cracked across her lips as she pointed at the elder demon.
“No takebacks,” she said with a light laugh. Zira thought it sounded hopeful.
Her master cocked his head and gave her a grin, shaking his head. From the side view he was given, the angel could see in Crowley’s eyes that he was picking up a deeper meaning in his apprentice’s words.
“Of course no takebacks, kid,” he chuckled. “What’d you think this was? You’re stuck with me, y’little bugger.”
“I do believe that’s enough trouble from you two for my taste,” Aziraphale stated, but he was hiding a pleased smile. Perhaps these two would be good for each other.
With an eyeroll that he’d clearly taught Mandrea, Crowley offered his apprentice his arm and nodded. “Whatever. Come on then, Spawn-of-Mine. Have fun riding horses in Scotland, Angel.”
Aziraphale scrunched his nose, but went back to his snack and his play. As soon as the two demons were past his back, though, he giggled at hearing a teasing voice drift back to him.
“But, Father, I’m not a bug. I’m an arachnid!”
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TATMILB, CHAPTER 3
Penelope spent her life writing love letters, which didn’t seem like a terrible idea until the letters were mailed out and Schneider received one of them. Hoping to fool their exes, they agree to fake a relationship. But are they lying to everyone around them, or to themselves? aka my To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before-inspired AU.
Penelope x Schneider, ODAAT. available on ao3 with extra author’s notes.
Chapter 3: Penelope tries to bond with Alex during movie night; he and Lydia bring the family’s donations to Goodwill. Schneider returns from vacation and confronts Penelope. She panics.
While Schneider was away with Nikki over the weekend, Penelope splurged on a trip to the movies--luring Alex with the promise of food he didn’t have to sneak in.
She was trying to focus on silver linings instead of her anxieties about Elena, and the upsides included her new availability for Alex. Twice as much parent to go around could only lead to more bonding, right?
He had lobbied for an R-rated comedy, which she was definitely not willing to pay for. On her own, she would’ve headed right for the newest Bradley Cooper drama, but no amount of chocolate could convince Alex to sit through that.
So they compromised on an action movie--which would have the added benefit of covering up the sound of her soda later. Agreeing to buy concessions for Alex didn’t make her a different person. Her discount snacks were better than their overpriced junk, anyway.
He grinned at her over his bucket of popcorn while they waited for the lights to go down, and she considered her bribery a success. See, she could be the cool mom. Even if she had Raisinets in her cargo pants.
“Hey, Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you still miss Max?”
Where did that come from? The question hurt, mostly because it was so unexpected. With Max exiting her life right before Lydia’s stroke, neither Alex or Elena had mentioned him much in the last year. They’d all had other things on their minds.
She let the pain pass by before she answered.
“Yes, Papito, I still do. It’s hard to let go of people you love. Sometimes, a part of you misses them even after you’ve moved on.”
He nodded, sipping his soda.
“Do you think you’ll start dating again anytime soon?”
That question was even more out of character for her son, whose world had been so often self-centered since he first came into it.
Penelope narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you suddenly so interested in my dating life?”
“I was just wondering.”
”Well, I’m having fun the way things are. You and me, catching a movie on a Friday night, mother and son time with Elena away. Why would I want to date when I could be doing this?”
She grabbed a handful of popcorn and caught the way he cringed. Or flinched. Whatever it was, there was guilt there. Her mom radar went up.
“Alex, what is it? Is something going on?”
“It’s nothing!” He assured her in a rush. “It’s just...I kind of--did have a date.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. You wanted to go out together, so I rain checked it with Chloe for next weekend. But I mean, let’s be real, Mom. This can’t last forever. I’ll go off to college too, or modeling school, whatever, and then who will you hang out with?”
The trailers started playing, just in time, letting her wallow until the movie started.
Penelope couldn’t keep the sadness off her face as she watched Alex settle in with his snacks. He was growing up so fast on her. Too fast. And Elena was practically out of the house already.
She didn’t want to date just to avoid being alone, but hearing that concern from her teenage son? Ouch. So much for being the cool mom.
Now Penelope was glad that they’d picked an action flick. She was ready to watch some stuff blow up.
****
Alex emerged from his room the next morning waving his phone at her.
“Mom, that was the third text I’ve gotten from Elena since she left reminding us to take that stuff to Goodwill.”
“Good morning to you, too,” Penelope replied. 
She was almost out the door, but her son had the luxury of sleeping in on Saturdays until baseball season started. He was taking full advantage of it.
“Seriously, she woke me up--and I need my beauty rest. She’s not gonna stop bugging me until you drop it off.”
“Alex...” Penelope shrugged into her coat, kissing her Mami on the cheek in thanks for the quick cafecito she had substituted for breakfast. “It’s all boxed up, we finished it before she left; it’ll get there.”
“I’m just saying, she’s gonna start texting you next, and I don’t think you’ll enjoy the lectures any more than I do.”
“Well, I’ve got plans with Jill today--and I’m about to be late. Mami?” She raised hopeful eyebrows in Lydia’s direction.
“Hmm?”
“Can you go with Alex to the Goodwill donation dropoff? I won’t be back until dinner.”
“Si, Lupita. Go have fun with your friend, we will handle it.” 
“Great. Thanks. The things I’m getting rid of are in my room, next to the closet.”
“You know, this would be much easier if Schneider had not taken his girlfriend on a vacation.” Lydia frowned. “He could carry much bigger boxes than myself or Papito.”
“Hey, I can lift heavy stuff,” Alex protested. 
“Yes, but you should not have to! You should save your strength for wooing your future wife.” Lydia patted his face.
“Luckily for us--and Alex’s future wife--none of the boxes are all that heavy,” Penelope said. “And there aren’t too many of them. Now, I really have to go. I’ll see you both tonight.”
****
Absorbed in work and school, Penelope didn’t give their Goodwill donations another thought until Tuesday, on her way out of the hospital. The two boxes she’d packed in her room were gone, concluding that chore.
Or so she thought.
Penelope was  digging in her purse for her keys when she saw Schneider striding her way. “Oh, hey! I thought you were gonna be off the grid with Nikki for another couple of days.”
“No, that trip is kind of...over. That whole thing is kind of over.” 
“Again?”
Hurt crossed Schneider’s face before he buried it. He was really good at that, she’d learned--mostly from moments when she was the one hurting him. Way to go, Penelope. 
“I mean, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Eh, I will be. Eventually. It’s not like we were engaged, right?”
Schneider shook his head. “That’s not why I’m here, though. Nikki may have dumped me for one of the jock dads at St. Bibiana’s, but that doesn’t mean I think you and I should blur the lines on the rebound.”
She stared at the creased blue paper he held up as he continued.
“Not that I’m not flattered, obviously. You’re the most badass woman I know, an amazing mom, anybody would be lucky to--”
Penelope’s field of vision narrowed to the letter in his hand, a letter that she definitely recognized. She didn’t hear the rest of his sentence. She could only hear her heart pounding in her ears, making her wonder if she was about to pass out there, next to her car.
How did Schneider get that? What was happening right now?
“I found it slipped under my door when I got home. And honestly, Pen, if you needed to tell me this stuff, you could have just done it in person--we’ve had enough late night chats that nothing’s really off limits at this point.”
She took a deep breath, trying to focus on a technique that worked for her during panic attacks and after nightmares. Since the moment felt like an actual waking nightmare, slowly counting backwards didn’t help much. He was still there. Waiting.
“Schneider, that letter--it’s not what it looks like, I swear. I don’t want to date you. At all. I wrote it because...”
She was still trying to find the words to explain something much too complicated for a parking lot when she saw motion past Schneider’s left shoulder.
Max was exiting the hospital and heading straight for them, holding a bright white envelope in one hand.
It didn’t take a genius to know what he was coming over to say.
Which was good, because Penelope’s mind was not exactly in top condition. It was already a five-alarm fire up in there, and every part of her was screaming I cannot deal with this.
In the fraction of a second she had to consider her options, Penelope acknowledged that the mature response would be to face it now--to explain the situation to her ex-boyfriend and her best friend at the same time.
Or, she decided, as she felt both men’s eyes on her and her palms started to sweat...she could do literally anything else.
Going with her first impulse, Penelope reached up and grabbed Schneider’s shirt with both hands, pulling him toward her. Before Max could get one step closer, she kissed Schneider like her life depended on it.
She couldn’t have explained to anybody why kissing Schneider seemed like a better idea than letting Max think she was still pining over him. Right then, she just needed Max to stay back. To leave them alone. 
Did it work? She wondered. She couldn’t check without breaking off the kiss, but the silence seemed promising.
Of course, the quiet only emphasized the situation she was now in. She was kissing Schneider. She was in a hospital parking lot, a few yards away from her ex-boyfriend, kissing Schneider. 
Pressed against her, Schneider didn’t react. Not after the initial moment, or several more. He let her kiss him, but he didn’t kiss back. And that was fine, Penelope told herself. That was better.
“Thank you,” she said when she let Schneider go. He stood there, flushed and baffled, looking at her like he had never seen her before. 
Though confusion was written all over his face, Schneider nodded. “You’re...welcome?”
Penelope wasn’t willing to push her luck any further. She couldn’t avoid the embarrassment forever, but at least she had managed to postpone it until she got home. She needed time to figure this out.
Without another word, and without glancing back to where Max was probably still holding his own letter, she got into her car and drove home.
****
Her reprieve was brief, not that she’d expected any different. She caught the aroma of dinner as soon as she walked through the door, and barely had time to praise her Mami’s cooking before Schneider arrived.
“Oh, good, Schneider, you are home from your vacación,” Lydia said. “I made enough for you to join us, just in case.”
“Hey,” Alex added from his spot at the table. “You’re back early, right?”
“Yeah, Nikki and I broke up.”
Schneider offered that explanation to Alex, but he was looking at Penelope. She shook her head in response, hoping the tiny movement would go unnoticed by the others. Hoping that Schneider would understand. Not now. Not in front of the family. Please.
His shoulders tensed where he stood, like her silent plea was a blow he had to absorb. But when he finally looked away from her, smiling at Lydia and taking his seat, Penelope knew he would let it go for now. “So you can see why I needed a nice, comforting family dinner this evening.”
“Oh, pobrecito Schneider,” Lydia said, patting his back before she sat down across from him. “You can do better.”
They were waiting for her to settle into her place at the table, but Penelope couldn’t join them until she knew for sure. She headed for her bedroom, straight to the spot where her army duffel would be. 
Or where it used to be.
“Mami?” She returned to the table and sat, trying to sound calm. “What happened to my duffel bag?”
“I don’t know,” Lydia said, pouring herself some rum as though her daughter’s world wasn’t spinning out of control in front of her. “Where did you see it last?”
“I keep it in my closet,” Penelope snapped back. “It’s been there for years. Where did I see it last,” she added in a mutter.
“You do not need to take that tone with me,” her Mami scolded her. “I did not touch your ratty old bag. I do not know where it is.”
“Well, I know I didn’t move it, and it’s gone. So can anybody explain to me how it up and disappeared?”
Lydia thought it over. “I suppose...if it was in your closet...it might be at the Goodwill.”
She clamped down even harder on her temper. “Why would it be at the Goodwill?” 
“As I said, Lupita, I have done nothing wrong. But your boxes were next to the closet. So if it is missing, that may be why.”
“It was just an old duffel bag, right, Mom?” Alex was halfway through his dinner, but he couldn’t ignore the tension in the room. “You can get a new one.”
“Not everything’s replaceable, Alex. That old bag had a lot of memories attached.” She picked up her fork and tried to focus on her food while her mind reeled. It also had five incredibly personal love letters tucked into the inside pocket. Letters she’d never wanted their subjects to read.
Now Max knew she never got over him, and wanted him back. God, after more than a year, how pathetic he must think she was. 
And that didn’t begin to address the other letters. How long until those came back to haunt her, too? What about the man currently watching her while he ate, pretending that he wasn’t? How could she possibly explain any of this to Schneider?
She stabbed at her salad, lost in thought until she was done eating. 
Worried she might snap at him next, even Schneider was quiet during the meal. The scraping of utensils against dishes filled the silence until Penelope cleared her plate and went to her bedroom.
Schneider swallowed loudly after Penelope left, but didn’t offer up his usual attempts to paper over the unease that lingered behind her. 
Instead it was Lydia who broke the silence. “Lupe hasn’t used any of her old bags in years. I do not understand why she is so upset about this one.”
“Maybe she’s going through menopause,” Alex offered up.
Schneider’s fork clattered loudly onto his plate. 
Lydia shook her head. “No, that can’t be the problem, Papito. She is far too young.”
“It can start between the ages of 40 and 50,” Alex argued, ignoring the way Schneider was gaping at him. “Mom’s just inside the window.”
“This is very inappropriate talk,” Lydia scolded him, standing up to clear the rest of the plates.
“Elena wouldn’t stop lecturing me about it, okay? She wanted me to be ready when it happened in case she was moved out already. You know how she never shuts up.”
Schneider left Alex sitting alone to go find Penelope--normally she would be back out with the family after dinner, but if she was going to try this hard to avoid him, she wasn’t giving him much choice. 
With Lydia at the sink and Alex’s face in his phone already, Schneider doubted the others would even notice him gone. 
He tapped lightly on her door. “Penelope?” 
The long silence wasn’t comforting, but eventually he heard a quiet “Come in” and let himself in. 
“Hey,” he said as he shut the door behind him. “You know, Max seemed just as confused as me, back at the hospital. He just sort of stared at me, once you drove off, for the longest five seconds in history, and then he left without saying anything.”
“Yeah?” Penelope was looking at the floor more than him, but he could tell she was listening.
“Yeah. I think he wanted to talk to you too. Which made me even more confused. What’s going on?”
A brisk rap on the door sounded before it opened--not giving either of them time to respond. 
“Mami.”
“It’s time for dessert,” Lydia told them. “What are you two doing in here?”
Penelope ignored the gossipy insinuation in her tone--she knew better than anyone that it was her Mami’s way of hoping something interesting was about to happen, whether it actually was or not. “We were talking about dessert, actually. I was asking Schneider if he wanted to go with me to get ice cream.”
She raised her eyebrows, hoping he would follow her lead. “What do you say? Dessert run?”
Whatever he was thinking, or feeling, Schneider kept it to himself. “Sure, Pen. Sounds good. My treat.”
“Oh, Schneider, you are such a generous man,” Lydia told him with a hand on his arm--laying it on a little thick even by her usual standards. 
“Mami, calm down. It’s ice cream, not new shoes.”
“Lydia, did you want new shoes?” Schneider perked up, and Penelope grabbed him by the arm to pull him past her mom before they could get any ideas. 
“She doesn’t need you to buy her shoes. Let’s go.”
Penelope rushed him to the door with one hand on his back, nudging him forward as she opened it.
She was in such a hurry, she almost shoved him directly into Ben--who was standing on the other side, hand raised to knock. 
“Oh, hey, Penelope. Is this a bad time?”
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1989dreamer · 3 years
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FTH-2020-Seventy-Five Percent
For @fandomtrumpshate​‘s 2020 auction, big thanks to @evanesdust​ for bidding on me and for being so patient.
AO3 link
Summary: Stiles and Derek are roommates at college, and living together is going well considering Stiles is harboring the hugest crush on Derek. When Derek needs an emergency date to his sister's tenth anniversary dinner, Stiles agrees. He doesn't expect it to get messy. He's kept his feelings in check for three and a half years. Spoiler alert: it gets really messy.
From this prompt. “We’re fake-dating and I’m supposed to publicly break up with you but you’ve been irritating me lately so instead of dumping you I publicly proposed to mess up your plan and now we’re getting married, fuck” au.
Tags: Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, Pining/Mutual Pining, Minor Misunderstanding, Human AU (full tags can be found on AO3).
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“I need a date,” Derek says apropos of nothing, and Stiles carefully sets down his brush, leans across the aisle, and stares at his friend. Derek flushes. “I mean,” he all but spits out between gritted teeth, “that my sister is having her tenth anniversary dinner, and I am the only single one in the family. If I don’t have a date, I’ll spend the whole time being accosted by my relatives.”
“And that’s my problem how?”Stiles asks. He goes back to his painting. The life model flexes just a tiny bit, and Stiles rolls his eyes at him.
“It’s your problem now because I will pay you to come with me,” Derek says, an undercurrent of threat in his voice. Or tears. Could be tears. Derek sounds mad when he’s about to cry sometimes.
Stiles sets his brush down again. Of course Derek would hit him where it hurts the most. All of Stiles’ meager earnings from his part-time job go toward keeping his Jeep running so that he can make the trek back up north to visit his dad when he’s on break from school.
“How much?” he demands, hating himself for being this easy.
Derek looks relieved. It’s a good look for him. Although, Derek looking good is any day of the week. “Thanks. Like three hundred for the day of? Maybe fifty for each additional thing that comes up?”
“And how often will things come up?”
Derek shrugs. “Maybe once or twice. I’m sure at least some of my family will want to call you to make sure that you’re real.”
Stiles claps a hand to his chest. “You haven’t told them about me?” he asks, pretending to be scandalized.
It’s Derek’s turn to roll his eyes. “I have told them about you, but in the context that you’re my best friend at college and we live on opposite sides of the state.”
“So they don’t think I’m real?” Stiles asks, not sure if he should be insulted or not.
“The most common thing I’m asked about you is ‘What is a Stiles?’” Derek grins, private and sort of cheery. “I’ve kind of stopped referring to you by name now. Just easier that way.”
“Hardy har har.” Stiles pokes Derek. To be completely fair, their freshman year, when Stiles would go home, he’d complain to his dad about his unfairly attractive, selfish, loud, attractive roommate. His dad had been convinced that Derek didn’t exist until he met him when Stiles was emptying his dorm room.
Now he and Derek have an apartment off campus, and Dad keeps trying to get Stiles to invite Derek to Beacon Hills because he claims he should at least get to intimidate his son’s future husband before their wedding.
Never mind that Derek has never even been seen with any dates, much less given Stiles any hope that he could possibly have a chance with him.
Until now. Except not really, because Derek just needs a pretend boyfriend, not an actual boyfriend.
“Why me?” Stiles asks, squinting suspiciously at Derek as he tries and fails to draw the absolute lounge of the life model. Stiles is recommending that Isaac never model again. It’s too much ego and not enough clothes, although Isaac did keep his scarf draped artfully around his neck when he dropped trou. “Why not Boyd or Erica? I’m sure either of them would be pleased to play Derek Hale’s date for a night.”
Derek shakes his head. “Both of them have already met my family. And so has Isaac. We were all friends in high school. You’re the only one I talk about regularly. It’d seem too weird if you weren’t the guy I was secretly pining after all these years.”
Stiles intensifies his squint. “Am I?” he asks bluntly.
“Are you what?” Derek refuses to make eye contact, making quick lines with his charcoal across his drawing of Isaac.
“Am I the guy you secretly pine after?”
“No…?”
Stiles throws his brush at Derek, not even a little sorry when it smacks against his chest and Derek complains that he’s wearing his favorite shirt. It’s not his favorite shirt. Stiles stole that a year ago and has yet to return it.
He’s a bit of a stalker. It’s a habit he’s trying to break. He will break. When he and Derek have graduated and gone their separate ways. When all they’ll be in a few years is the occasional drinking buddy, living too far to justify visiting more than once every couple years, work and life getting in the way of their friendship.
Stiles shakes himself. “So don’t make it a question.”
Derek sighs in defeat, handing Stiles his brush back. “Look, Laura already thinks that you’re my secret boyfriend.”
“I thought they thought I didn’t exist,” Stiles says, bitterly. He takes the brush and lays it down, turning to face Derek. Then he gives Derek a tissue to at least wipe off most of the paint. Too bad it’s oil and will stain.
“Laura helped me move in this year. She saw you and your dad from a distance and I pointed you out.”
Stiles narrows his eyes. “I could have met your sister?”
Derek squirms. “Yes?” he hedges. “But she was asking all these weird questions like our first kiss, where we go on dates, if we’ve gone all the way yet. I didn’t want you to deal with that, so I distracted her until she had to leave.”
“So I get to meet her now?”
Derek nods. “It is her anniversary after all.”
“Cool.”
Then Stiles ignores Derek in favor of finishing as much of his painting as he can before class lets out.
                                                                                                                     ~ * ~
Lunch is leftover chili with homemade cornbread that Derek made earlier. Stiles taps a pen on some paper, thinking over all the things he knows he should put into a contract of sorts for his and Derek’s arrangement.
Stuff like pet names, PDA, just what they’ve “done” as a couple, how long they’ve been dating, and just how long they are supposed to be together before they break up.
Derek sees the list, scratches out pet names—“Trauma,” he mutters as explanation—and adds the terms of payment as well. He also writes down that the breakup should be public so that Derek can take time to “recover” without his family breathing down his neck.
Overall, there’s nothing really objectionable to pretending to date Derek aside from the fact that Stiles would much rather actually date Derek, but how to tell your presumably-straight roommate that you wanna suck his dick and kiss his lips?
Derek gathers the dishes and starts washing them. “Hey, so, my lab is today, so I’ll see you after 5:00. We can talk more when I get home.”
“Sure thing.” Stiles has to run himself or he’d stay and watch Derek clean up. It’s almost like a dance when Derek really gets into it. Stiles likes to park his butt on the couch and watch him while he pretends to do his homework. If Derek’s lab runs late, it explains why he’s cleaning now. Which means that not only will Stiles miss it because he needs to go to class, but it will be his turn to cook and clean tomorrow.
Ugh.
Stiles had considered Derek selfish freshman year because Derek hadn’t known how to share a room. He’s not sure why though, it’s not like they were each other’s first roommates either. Now Stiles feels selfish because he doesn’t mind cooking or doing chores but he had enough of that at home and was hoping to relax at college.
“Hey, see you tonight?” he asks, Derek waves in response.
Stiles goes to class, the pit of his stomach rebelling with every step. Why are things different now? Derek doesn’t want to date Stiles. He just wants to get his family off his back.
Concentration is out the window, so Stiles just spends all his class time thinking up the various scenarios that his and Derek’s plot could go so, so sideways.
By the time he makes it back to an empty and sparkling apartment, he’s nearer to a panic attack than he has ever been in the last three years including the whole fiasco with his first roommate during freshman year.
Stiles goes to wash his face, hoping that the cold shocks his system enough for him to stave off the attack, but Derek finds him there a few hours later, and Stiles has no memory of it.
Derek gentles him through the remainder of his attack, sets him up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate and his favorite movie, and then just sits in silence while Stiles tries to process the fact that he just had a goddamn panic attack over pretend dating his roommate.
After another movie, Derek moves onto the couch, letting Stiles snuggle into his side.
“All good?” he asks.
Stiles shakes his head. “I will be though.” He waits for a few minutes, long enough for Derek to lean against him and start drowsing. “Tell me about your family.”
Derek yawns. “Well, you know Laura, the one who’s celebrating. She’s older than me, by like a million years. Made her insufferable growing up. And then there’s Cora, who’s about four years younger than me. We were rivals growing up. Every crush I had, she had too. And she’s kissed about half of them. I have a couple older brothers who are even older than Laura and even more insufferable, but in the way that us younger Hales are the dirt under their shoes. Especially my youngest sister. She’s the baby of the family and the most normal. But I guess it’s because my parents were tired when they got around to raising her.”
“Hmm, so many Hales to meet.” Stiles’ heart beats extra hard at that. Not only does he have to pretend to date Derek, but he has to pretend to date Derek in front of—Stiles counts on his fingers—seven Hales that aren’t Derek. Five sibling Hales and two parent Hales.
“And my uncle Peter,” Derek adds, drowsily. “He’s a dickhead. He’s also as old as my brothers but he was far more invested in causing drama with the younger Hales.”
“Laura too?”
Derek nods. “Laura especially. He almost wasn’t invited to her wedding. I will be very surprised if he doesn’t do something that gets him kicked out of her anniversary dinner.”
“And you want me to meet them?”
“Well,” Derek hedges, and that hurts so much and so viscerally that Stiles climbs off the couch and goes to the kitchen to pretend to drink a glass of water from the tap. Derek follows him after a minute. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. You’re my best friend. It’s just that they don’t have the greatest track record with people I bring home.”
“What, like I’m not good enough for you?” Stiles fans the flare of anger growing in his chest. Anything but another panic attack is preferred.
Derek sighs. “It’s a dumb test. I think everyone goes through it, but I don’t know because I don’t participate. I mean, it’s dumb to make your sister’s boyfriend hate her family when before he wanted to be with her, right? It’s like we’re trying to scare them off.”
“So like they’re not good enough for the family,” Stiles repeats.
Derek’s shoulders fall. “I guess. I always hated it, so I wouldn’t bring anyone home so that they couldn’t do that to them.”
“Partners,” Stiles points out.
“What?”
“You said ‘sister’s boyfriend,’ so this assholery only happens with potential partners. Is that it?”
Derek frowns at him before nodding, understanding dawning on his face. “Yeah. That’s it.”
“So, I’ve never met your family because…?”
The absolute look of panic that flashes across Derek’s face is in parts thrilling and heartbreaking to see.
“I understand,” Stiles says. “Well, it just means that I truly am the right choice of friend to take home to mother.”
Derek barks out a strangled laugh. “Yeah, sure. Please don’t call my mom ‘Mother.’ It makes her unreasonably angry. I think she thinks it makes her sound old. I think she sounds older when my nieces and nephews call her grandma.”
“How many nieces and nephews do you have?” Stiles asks, suddenly, acutely aware of just how much he doesn’t know about Derek. It makes him feel like a chronic over sharer and like Derek doesn’t fully trust him.
Derek shrugs. “I think Laura has three kids and my brothers each have two, but that was last Christmas so they could all have more on the way. I have five nieces and two nephews that I know of.”
“And we’re driving down to Chula Vista, right?”
Derek looks relieved, grabbing at Stiles’ floatation device of a conversation change. “Yeah, yes! Definitely. I mean, it’s about seven hours. We could take a flight down, it’d probably be quicker, but more expensive. And besides, this means that we can leave whenever either of us want to.”
“Yeah, how’s that going to work?” Stiles points, and they head back to the couch. Derek sits, angled so that his knee is brushing Stiles’. “Do I just say, ‘Laura insulted me, I want to go back to college now’?”
“Absolutely yes. If any of my family makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, let me know, and we’ll leave as soon as possible.”
It’s a nice reassurance, and Stiles hopes to assuage all his fears as easily, so he and Derek spend the rest of the night, until Derek falls asleep, discussing the finer matters of how to “date” a Hale.
                                                                                                                    ~ * ~
The rest of the week until Derek’s sister’s tenth anniversary dinner blurs by. Lots of packing for what is essentially just a day and a half, getting Boyd to agree to look in on the apartment even though they have no pets or plants that require sitting, and arguing over whose car they’re taking. In the end, Derek agrees to allow Stiles to drive his Camaro for a short stint, and they depart, happily, on Friday after classes.
The drive is uneventful, even when Derek oversleeps the first leg and Stiles ends up driving two thirds of the way to their destination. Derek doesn’t even grump about it, just smiles dopily until he notices Stiles looking at him, and then he steps on the gas.
They pull into the drive of an enormous house at about 11:00 pm. The whole house is lit up. Stiles snorts awake to stare at it.
“That’s your house?” he squeaks.
Derek shifts, uncomfortable. “My parents’ house,” he says. “They’re rich. I’m not.”
“It’s a big house.”
“Yeah. That’s because my uncle and his family live with them, and I think Cora still lives at home and so does Laura and her family.”
“And you? Are you going to live at home when we graduate come spring?”
Derek doesn’t answer. Instead, he opens his door, shuts off the engine, and pops the trunk.
Almost immediately, the door opens and a very pregnant woman waddles out to stare at them, her hands fisted on her hips. The light from the porch illuminates her perfectly.
Derek hands Stiles his suitcase and then starts up the stairs. When he reaches the woman, he takes a step back.
“Cora?”
“Yeah, dumbass. Who else would it be?”
“But aren’t you dating what’s-her-name?”
“Lydia, and yes. We decided we would use sperm donors.” Cora rolls her eyes. “You would know all this if you talked to us more than just at the holidays.”
Chastised, Derek ducks his head. “Sorry.”
Stiles thinks it’s been awkward long enough, so he sticks out his hand. “Stiles Stilinski. Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hale.”
“What kind of a name is Stiles?” Cora asks.
Derek clears his throat. “He’s my boyfriend. And Stiles is a nickname.”
Cora gives Derek a flat look. “Your boyfriend?”
Derek nods. He looks so nervous. He hasn’t looked this nervous since he and Stiles were paired together after the first rooming fiasco.
“Well,” Cora eyes Stiles with a disapproving glare, “I guess you’d better come in and meet the rest of the family. The ones that are awake anyway. Be extra quiet: the kids are asleep.”
Inside is just as opulent as the outside, perhaps more because inside is completely lit up and doesn’t have to battle the darkness of night.
There are portraits of what must be the Hales and their families everywhere, tasteful crystal décor, and polished marble floors.
It’s very austere, and Stiles understands why Derek said his parents were rich but not him. Stiles has seen how Derek chooses to decorate, and it’s in warm tones with soft surfaces and very limited bits of chrome.
Twin sweeping staircases stand guard at the end of the foyer, leading up to what presumably is more austere marble and crystal, severe lines of cold.
Two handsome people, the woman is an elgant black gown, the man in a black suit, Windsor knot in his silver tie, stand in front of the staircases. Cora stops next to them, says something lowly, and then heads upstairs. Nervously, Stiles clings to his suitcase and follows as Derek walks, spine straight, face blank, toward what must be his parents.
His mother lifts her head, and Derek stops in his tracks.
“Wonderful of you to join us, Derek,” she says, like she’s a queen surveying her subjects and finding them very lacking. Stiles had thought his clothing, a dark t-shirt covered with an open blue flannel shirt and khakis, was fine in Berkeley. Here, it’s completely out of place. Derek’s outfit of a maroon shirt and dark slacks looks a little less out of place, but far too casual for this foyer.
“Mom, Dad,” Derek returns, and it is so incongruous with the image they’re presenting that Stiles has to stifle a hysterical laugh.
After a few more moments, Derek’s parents break, and smiling, they all but run to Derek and hug him at the same time. Derek’s father disentangles himself first, turning to Stiles and offering his hand for a shake.
“So this is the man who’s caught our little Derek’s heart?”
Derek flushes at his father’s words, but he doesn’t disagree.
Mr. Hale grins, using Stiles’ hand to tug him into a quick hug. “Welcome to the family, Stiles.”
“Uh, thanks?” Stiles doesn’t wriggle free, but it’s a near thing. Derek must realize how out of place he’s feeling, still reeling from the complete change in demeanor, because he laces his fingers through Stiles’, grounding him.
Talia nods at their hands. “And how is the relationship? Single rooms?”
Stiles coughs to cover another laugh. He and Derek share a bedroom in their apartment—it was cheaper than two bedrooms—so they should be okay sharing a room. A bed might be another matter, but they’ve been living together at college, so if they’re dating, they should already be comfortable with seeing each other naked, having morning erections around each other, and all those other embarrassing things no one ever talks about happening when people start having sex with each other.
Derek blushes. “It’s a little new, the relationship, but it’s strong. We can be trusted to be in the same room.”
“It’s late,” Derek’s father says. “Let’s get you boys settled, and then we can all talk tomorrow.” He looks at Derek with kindness in his eyes. “I can’t wait to hear what you’ve been up to.”
The room he and Derek are deposited into is medium sized. Stiles would have thought all rooms in the house would be enormous. Derek watches him studying it before explaining, “I went through a phase where I didn’t want anything from my parents, so they moved me in here. It used to be a closet, but it was the smallest they were willing to let me be without me moving out.”
“How old were you?”
Derek shrugs. “I was ten.” He frowns at Stiles’ sudden chuckle. “I was very self-righteous. I thought we were bad because we were rich and I didn’t want to be.” Quieter, he adds, “I was very bullied in school.”
“So was I,” Stiles reveals. “I always pretended that it didn’t bother me, but it did. It’s why I chose Berkeley. Close enough to go home to see my dad, but far enough away that I didn’t have to see my tormentors again.”
“I’m glad we found each other,” Derek says. He points at his bed, a single twin. “You can have the bed. I’ve got an inflatable mattress around here somewhere. I can get that blown up and sleep on that.”
Stiles is too tired to argue. It’s only a little after 11:00 pm, but they’ve been driving for most of the day, and he just feels under stimulated and uninterested in anything except brushing the gnarly taste of garlic pretzels out of his mouth and collapsing into a deep, refreshing sleep.
“Bathroom?”
Derek points down the hall, and Stiles takes his travel bag with him. He’s not sure what he’s expecting when he opens the door, but it certainly isn’t a soft coral pink bathroom with matching rugs, toilet cover, and shower curtain. It’s hideous. Stiles loves it.
Everything was getting a little too marble for his liking. This shows a human side to the Hales.
Because he’s Stiles, he snoops a little. Finds magazines in a holder on top of the toilet. Gross. Finds extra soaps and feminine products hidden in the cabinet under the sink. Cool. Other spare products and towels are kept behind a closed door. Good.
Overall, the bathroom passes muster enough that he feels comfortable scrubbing his teeth clean, scraping his tongue, and washing all evidence down the rose quartz-colored sink.
Derek comes in before Stiles finishes drying his hands on the fluffy, rose-scented towel.
He does a double-take at the room, digs under the sink for a little while, and stands up. “We’d better leave no evidence that we were ever here,” he says, ominously. “The bathroom’s been redone since I was last here at Christmas. I think that means, especially because her favorite color is pink, that this bathroom is Lydia’s and we shouldn’t ever be caught in here.”
“How unhygienic,” Stiles replies, pointing at the magazines. Derek claps a hand over his mouth to stifle the sudden bark of laughter.
“I agree. But honestly, it’s probably a lot more hygienic than your phone.”
Stiles bumps shoulders and then heads back to the room. Derek has indeed found and inflated an air mattress. Stiles crawls onto it to test the bounce, and oh, there’s his pillow. For some reason it’s on Derek’s bed. He grabs it, tucks it under his head, and just like that, out like a light.
                                                                                                                    ~ * ~
Stiles wakes up to a warm body next to his, someone’s leg wound around his, someone’s head on his shoulder. He blinks up at the ceiling, watching as the sunrise fills the room with a lovely, rosy glow.
Then he remembers where he is and what’s supposed to be going on and sits up, arms flailing as he tries to dislodge himself from a very deeply asleep Derek.
He hears a clicking sound, and his head snaps around to find an elegant strawberry blonde in very tight blue wrap dress aiming a phone at him.
“Whasit?” he grumbles, glad that both he and Derek apparently decided to sleep in their clothes. Usually, they’re both strip down to boxers kind of guys. It makes it hard for Stiles to sleep sometimes when he just really wants to lick Derek’s abs or jerk off over him. And apparently there goes his morning wood.
“It’s just payback,” the strawberry blonde says, loud even though it’s obviously early. Derek jerks awake, snorting, and gasping like someone doused him with cold water.
It doesn’t help Stiles’ inappropriate boner at all.
“Payback for what?” Stiles asks. He’s never met this woman. Why does she need payback?
“Oh hey, Lydia,” Derek says, gruff. Sexy morning voice alert. “What brings you to our room today?”
“Someone used my bathroom.”
“Didn’t used to be your bathroom,” Derek responds. He turns to Stiles. “Stiles, this is Cora’s fiancée, Lydia. Lydia, this is my boyfriend, Stiles.”
“Hmm, so he is real,” Lydia remarks. She snaps another picture, says, “Stay out of my bathroom or I’ll expose your sleeping arrangements to Mom and Dad.”
Derek yawns, lazily slipping an arm around Stiles’ shoulders and using the lax grip to tug him back down. “Mom and Dad already know we’re sharing a room. It stands to reason that we’re comfortable sharing a bed too. After all, we’ve been living together for almost four years now.”
Lydia huffs and flounces out of the room, but Stiles saw on her face; she lost and she knew it. And she didn’t mind.
Derek adjusts his grip, nuzzles into Stiles’ neck again. “Hope this is okay?” he murmurs.
Stiles swallows hard. “Yeah,” he grits out. “This is perfect.”
Still, Derek rolls away from him. “I’m going to get up now. It’s the perfect time for a quick run. There’s a bathroom down stairs, third door on the left. Ask my mom or dad if you can’t find it. Don’t trust anything Lydia or Cora tell you.”
He grabs a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from his suitcase and heads out.
Stiles flops back on the bed, wondering if he’d done something wrong. Derek’s leaving feels like dismissal and Stiles isn’t sure if it’s because he was being a little too enthusiastic, i.e. the boner, or not enthusiastic enough.
It feels horrible, like a pit is growing in Stiles’ stomach, and he realizes that he won’t be able to maintain the charade of being Derek’s boyfriend without someone on his side.
But he’s in Chula Vista, not Beacon Hills. His dad is a whole ten hours away, and Stiles hadn’t realized that he only has one friend in the whole world.
How Derek is more sociable than him, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that if he doesn’t spill to someone, he’s going to break down, and the public breakup won’t be public nor a breakup.
He’s sort of saved when Cora knocks on the door and comes in before he can do more than say, “Yeah?”
“I just wanted to apologize for Lydia,” Cora says. She sits on the bed, cradling her stomach. “Mom and Dad are humoring her because her parents just got divorced and she’s not taking it well.”
Stiles studies her. “You weren’t this nice last night,” he says, hoping that she isn’t offended. When she throws her head back and laughs, he lets out a little sigh of relief.
“No. I’m not a night person.” She rubs at her stomach, catches herself, and sits on her hands. “Look, the baby likes to tap dance on my bladder, and whoever said morning sickness was only morning or just in the first trimester lied their fucking head off. I was startled when Derek brought you home. He’s been talking about his roommate nonstop. I actually thought you were dating before now, but he never said your name, always claimed we’d think you were imaginary if he did that.”
“I get it,” Stiles says. “Whenever someone stumbles over my real name, I tell them I go by Stiles, and every time, I get, ‘What kind of a name is Stiles?’ instead of ‘Cool, something easier to say.’ It’s discouraging.”
Cora’s hand comes up to pat at her belly, and she frowns down at it. “I swear I’m not usually this tactile.”
“It’s okay. It’s your body. Hormones and all.”
“Tell me why you decided to date my brother. Did he finally get his head out of his ass and ask you?”
Stiles coughs. “Uh, sort of?” He winces. “I mean, yeah, he finally asked and we made it official, but I mean, I haven’t dated anyone since high school, and Derek’s never been with anyone else as far as I know.”
“That’s it exactly.” Cora points at Stiles and he looks down at himself. He’s not bad looking—if his dad can be trusted—and he’s been making more of an effort with even his casual clothes since he and Derek began living together. “Derek doesn’t date. So why you? No offense.”
“Some taken,” Stiles replies. He shrugs at her. “I don’t know why.”
“Oh, I think you do.” Cora hauls herself up, shakes her head, and sinks back to the bed. She pats next to her, and Stiles hesitantly joins her.
She leans in close. “So, how much is he paying you?”
“Wh-what?”
Cora has a gleam in her eyes that makes Stiles entirely uncomfortable to be trapped here with her. “I’m guessing that you and he aren’t really dating, but since it’s Laura’s tenth wedding anniversary this weekend, he doesn’t want to be bothered by the copious aunts and grand-aunts that like to pinch his cheeks and ask when he’s bringing home his bride. Ergo, you, because my brother may be many things, a coward, spineless, and utterly useless at getting dates, but he does have a soft spot for you.”
Stiles stands up. “Derek isn’t spineless or a coward,” he says, angry at her. “Why would you even say that? Do you even know your brother? He was terrified to come to college. I don’t know why. He hasn’t shared that with me yet. But when I needed a roommate after my first roommate turned out to be the biggest bastard on campus, he stepped up. We’ve been friends since. It was a natural progression of our relationship because, yeah, we fell in love with each other.”
Cora grabs his wrist. “Don’t leave. Not yet. I’m sorry.” She tugs, and he sits. He’s breathing hard, heart beating a little too fast. He doesn’t know why he got so angry except for the fact that he knows the true Derek, the one who likes cooking and cleaning and studying microbiology and taking life art with Stiles just so he’d know someone in the class.
Cora takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I said that about Derek. I just needed to know.”
“Know what?”
“That you love him too.”
Stiles blinks. Derek doesn’t love him. Not like that.
“I can see that you don’t believe me, but it’s true. Derek loves you. He won’t admit it but it’s in his voice when he talks about you. It’s in the way he won’t let anyone call you imaginary but also won’t reveal your name, because he’s trying to protect you. I don’t know. I do know my brother, and I know that he loves you, and you love him too.”
Stiles doesn’t even know where the tears come from, but he finds himself sobbing on Cora’s shoulder as he confesses that Derek did actually hire him precisely for what Cora accused.
She listens patiently.
Then. “You’re both the biggest idiots.” She throws a roll of toilet paper at him. “Kleenexes get a little rough on the nose when you’re prone to hysterical fits,” she explains to his raised eyebrow. “Quadruple ply is a Godsend.”
Once he’s dried his face and blown his nose, Cora takes his hand again. “Look, I get it. I do. Our family can be overbearing. It was hell keeping them off Lydia’s and my backs long enough to have the discussion about children. And we’re not even married yet. But trust me on this: Derek does love you.”
“So how do I get him to ask me?” Stiles asks. “I mean, after all this. We’re supposed to have a public breakup after this weekend.”
Cora laughs. “Mom and Dad are going to be so pissed they let you sleep in the same room if you do that.”
“I’m serious. I’m supposed to break up with Derek so that he can, I don’t know, save face with his family. I guess because they’ll never see me again.”
She nods. “Makes sense.” She tilts her head, chewing on her lip. “Okay, I’ve got it: instead of breaking up with him, you propose to him. Confuse him. If he really likes you, he’ll probably say yes, and you can be engaged for however long you like. If he still wants to break up with you, then he can’t do it without a little shit sticking to him.
“Oh, I know! You can do it when we go to the mall!” To Stiles’ confused face, she explains, “It’s a tradition to do a scavenger hunt in the mall after a celebration. After we celebrate Laura’s anniversary, we’re going to the mall. It’ll be the perfect place to propose. Or breakup.Whichever it ends up being.”
“One problem: how am I supposed to live with Derek if he says no?”
Cora shrugs. “I don’t think he will, but you could make him move out if he does.”
“Another problem,” Stiles says. Cora rolls her eyes. “I don’t have a ring. I don’t even know Derek’s ring size.”
“That’s easy enough. I have everyone’s ring sizes. I’m the official jewelry expert in the family. That’s why.” Stiles nods. The Hales are so weird, but he finds it endearing. He supposes the Stilinskis would be just as weird to the Hales with their traditions. “Anyway, I’ve got the perfect ring for you to use.” She struggles up and then waddles toward a room three doors down the hall from Derek’s closet room. Stiles waits for her at the door. When she comes back, she tosses a small black box at him.
He flips it open and stares down at the silver band set with a single black cubic zirconium stone. Cora’s right, it’s perfect. It’s neutral enough to go with Derek’s wardrobe full of warm tones and dark pants, but also enough of a statement to bring attention to the fact that he’s wearing an engagement ring. Classy but not overstated.
Derek does have a few bright shirts mixed in, but he doesn’t wear them anywhere but around the apartment. Stiles thinks it’s because they’re gifts from him and Derek likes how soft they are. It makes Stiles unreasonably happy whenever he catches Derek wearing one of them.
“Are you positive he’ll say yes?” Stiles asks. He really doesn’t want to destroy his and Derek’s relationship. Although, he has a feeling that they’re already way past that.
“About seventy-five percent,” Cora says, and because they’re at her room, she shuts the door in his face before he can complain about those odds.
Stiles wanders back to Derek’s room. He keeps staring at the ring. It’s too soon to propose, right?
They’ve only just started dating, right?
They’re not really dating. It won’t be a real proposal. Right?
He closes the box and hides it in his pillow. Then, he grabs a change of clothes and his travel bag and heads to the downstairs bathroom for a quick shower.
                                                                                                                    ~ * ~
Over the course of the day, Stiles is introduced to far more people than he ever expected to meet, and is frankly exhausted by the time they all pile into vehicles, he and Derek riding with Derek’s frankly frightening Uncle Peter and his partner, Freddie, to go to the restaurant.
The ring box is secure in his pocket, and he does his best not to touch it, aware that as the “new” significant other, he’s being subjected to a lot of interrogations, hugs, and all around suspicion. Through it all, Derek stays by his side, directing him away from the more prying of the aunts, or having him hide in an empty room until someone can make an announcement that makes Derek’s boyfriend seem like old news.
Finally though, they all sit at six tables pushed together, a buffet against the back wall of the room. The restaurant is owned by a pair of great aunts who insist on Derek and Stiles sitting next to them so they can gossip about the changes at California University-Berkeley.
“You know, Marsha was a co-founder of the first LGBTQ organization,” the more wizened one states. “How’d that go for you, dear?”
Marsha rolls up her sleeve to show off a large scar. “Thirty stitches and an expulsion.” She winks at Stiles. “And I’d do it all over again because it’s how I met the love of my life.”
He smiles politely. “I’m glad times have changed,” he says. “I don’t think I could scar as neat as that.”
“Well, that’s Diana’s doing. Such steady hands even as she berated me for putting my life in danger.” Marsha sighs wistfully. “Some things don’t change.” With sharp eyes, she pokes at Stiles’ soul, and he shudders at the sensation of being seen and known. “You may think you’re not scarred, but you are.” She turns to Derek. “Make sure you treasure this boy, eh?”
Derek nods almost frantically. He grabs Stiles’ and his aunts’ glasses. “Refills?”
“How long have you been together?” Marsha asks, and Stiles knows he should stick to the script he and Derek came up with, but he can’t. So, he leans in, like he’s telling a big secret, and whispers, “Three and a half years.”
Diana whacks at Marsha’s shoulder. “That means they’ve been steady since they met,” she excitedly exclaims. Stiles flushes at the sudden eyes on their end of the table.
“What I meant,” he stutters out, under the heavy, heavy gaze of, like, a million Hales, “is that we’ve been dancing around each other for years. We’ve only just decided to make it official.”
Derek plops down the glasses. “Don’t scare him,” he chastises his aunts, and by extension, all the nosy, nosy relatives. “I actually happen to love him, and I’d appreciate not having to find him again when you all chase him away.”
As if practiced, all the Hales go back to their own plates and conversation.
Stiles leans into Derek, gratefully sipping at his Sprite. Derek leans back a little, and they balance nicely. Until Stiles remembers what he’s planning to do during the after-dinner excursion. Then, he just sits there while Derek chats amicably, offers to refill Stiles’ plate, and almost holds his hand whenever he gets up from the table.
After the meal, Peter and Freddie give them a ride to the mall. Surprisingly, Peter hadn’t done anything to get kicked out, like Derek had predicted. Stiles thinks it’s because whenever Peter opened his mouth, Freddie squeezed his leg. Someday, Stiles thinks, if things work out, he and Derek could be like that, communicating with just a touch.
At the mall, Laura and her husband, Jordan, hand out a sheet of paper with things to find, and the Hales disperse, a literal army of at least thirty people, led by Marsha and Diana on their motorized wheelchairs.
Stiles allows Derek to hold his hand as they follow along more sedately. Stiles isn’t going to participate in the scavenger hunt, too nervous and afraid that if he uses it as a distraction, he’ll forget why he’s really here.
They get to the second level, and Derek points out a few things on the list, but Stiles has had enough. He sees Cora and Lydia in the crowd and makes his way toward them. Cora catches his eye and nods.
Stiles takes a deep breath, drops Derek’s hand, and then kneels down before he can think about it.
Derek turns to see what’s up and claps his hands over his eyes, like that’s going to make Stiles stand up again.
Deep breath in, deep breath out. “Derek, love, can you look at me?”
Derek shakes his head. He’s blushing, hard. Probably because they’re in the middle of a crowd. Apparently neither of them quite care for the public spectacle. Good to know.
Stiles pulls out the ring box. He takes another deep breath, teetering on the edge of backing out and letting Derek think it was a prank.
Behind Derek, Cora and Lydia both stand, hands clasped together, staring wide-eyed. Cora knows it’s not fake, so why does she look so invested?
Faintly, Stiles hears someone say, “Go for it!” So he gathers his conviction and opens his mouth.
“Please open your eyes,” he says, softly. When Derek does, Stiles is surprised to see tears there. “Derek Hale, I love you. I know we haven’t been dating for very long, but I already know I want to marry you.” And suck your dick, but Stiles doesn’t say that out loud. There are children present for God’s sake. “We go together like two things that you wouldn’t think would be good, but then they end up being the perfect pair. And I don’t ever want to give that up. Please say yes?”
Derek is already nodding, his expression goes from obviously embarrassed to fond and soft, in a way Stiles is entirely unused to seeing from him, even after living together for most of three and a half years.
Behind Derek, Cora and Lydia begin jumping up and down, squealing. Startled, Derek glances back at them before quickly focusing on Stiles again. He helps pull him to his feet and then wordlessly extends his hand. Stiles slides the ring onto his finger. Cora was right about the size and about the style. It fits perfectly, and Derek smiles at it.
Something warm blooms in Stiles’ chest, and it’s because he put the ring and the smile on Derek.
And oh fuck. Oh fuck, he just proposed to Derek fucking Hale and has gotten a yes. Fuck seventy-five percent. Fuck being unsure if his love is unrequited. Stiles leaps into Derek’s arms and is met with a completely off-kilter, totally unbalanced, completely perfect imperfect mashing of lips and noses, and they tumble to the ground, Stiles on top.
Derek is laughing, patting at him, but he also isn’t saying get up.
That’s Lydia, tugging at them. “Do you know how many germs are on this floor?” she grouses, but despite the hard edge from this morning, she keeps smiling at them like she actually likes them.
The rest of the Hales appear suddenly—probably summoned by a text—and all of them, not a one of them looks angry, they all look happy, pleased, already singing congratulations.
Cora raises her phone to show them that she recorded it all, everything, including what was their first kiss.
Oh shit. He’s so fucked. But he’s so happy too.
Cora’s right that they can be engaged for however long they need. At least they are engaged.
                                                                                                                    ~ * ~
The rest of Saturday passes in a whirlwind, and Derek never stops smiling. The whole drive back to Berkeley on Sunday is spent in contented bliss, and when Derek isn’t driving, he just stares at the ring.
About an hour from their apartment, Derek pulls over, and Stiles jerks awake.
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Derek says, but Stiles can hear it in his voice. Something’s wrong.
“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks again, gentling his tone.
Derek takes off the ring and hands it to him. “Thanks for that. I really liked it.”
“Liked what?” Stiles stares at the ring. It looks wrong in his hand and not on Derek’s finger. It’s only been there about twenty-four hours. It shouldn’t look wrong, but it does. “Is this about the agreement?”
“Yeah.” Derek clears his throat, a clear sign that he’s about to start crying. He looks heartbroken. “The agreement. I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this.”
“Do what?” Stiles asks. He turns the ring over, grabs Derek’s hand, and slides it back on. “Your sister already told me that you’re in love with me. I’m in love with you. I proposed-proposed to you. If you really don’t want to marry me, at least wait until we’re home before you break my heart.”
Derek just stares at him.
Stiles waves his hand by his head. Maybe he’s just too tired of this damn charade that they never should have done. Maybe he just wants something for himself for once and he’s willing to fight for it. “I know, you told me don’t believe what Cora says, but she also said you talked about me incessantly ever since you met me. Dude, we’re in love with each other, and yes it sucks that it took making up this fake dating thing for us to realize it, but if you think that I’m going to just roll over and say, ‘Hey, that was great, let’s never do it again,’ then you’re sorely mistaken.”
Derek covers the ring with his other hand, watching as it peeks through his fingers. “You’re in love with me?”
Stiles feels like snapping, but doesn’t. “Yes.”
Derek nods. “Thanks. I-I love you too.” He puts the Camaro in drive.
The rest of the drive is spent in silence. Stiles doesn’t feel relief at things being in the open nor at the sight of the ring on Derek’s finger where it belongs.
Instead, he feels dread rising. Something is going to happen when they get back to their apartment, and it might just be the end of them. Stupid, stupid, they just confessed their feelings for each other. Things should be looking up, not down.
Derek parks and immediately goes to grab their suitcases from the trunk. Stiles heads up the stairs to unlock the front door.
“So, I want a redo,” Derek remarks suddenly, his tone forced into easy and cheery.
Stiles pauses where he’s unlocking the door. “Redo?”
Derek moves closer, shoves the suitcases aside, and brackets Stiles’ head with his hands. He leans in until their faces are just an inch apart. “A redo.” And he kisses Stiles, and even though the doubt is still there, warring in Stiles with the warmth of knowing he has Derek’s love, it gets a little smaller when he falls back against the door and Derek follows him in.
“I am gonna suck your cock so good,” he murmurs against Derek’s lips.
“Not if I suck yours first,” Derek returns.
And that is the story of how Stiles and Derek finally stopped pining and started boning.
Cora tells the story of how they got together at their wedding five years later, conveniently leaving out the part about being seventy-five percent sure that Derek was in love with Stiles, but Stiles forgives her because while she may have been only seventy-five percent sure, he and Derek are both one hundred percent in love and getting married.
~ The End ~
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Text
I know him
A/N: this was requested by anon, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 
summary: could you do a reddie x daughter where she sees apparitions of penny wise but keeps it to herself. but one day when she’s w all the losers they mention pennywise in a short joke and she says she knows who that is n they all freak out wondering how she knows and ask her questions to confirm and somehow she knows everything that happened
warnings: fear of being stuck in an elevator so I guess small spaces, pennywise, a brief mention of vomiting and curse words
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The old elevator scared her for as long as she could remember, it’s old doors creaking and closing leisurely, and the inside of it coated in a filthy substance that your dad avoided at all costs and urged you to do the same.  Many horror story that roamed the building hallways originated from said moving lift, endless cases of people getting stuck in there and injuring themselves, some minor wounds, some majors.
In one particular case, a man from apartment block B4 broke his hand while trying to escape the grimy space, reaching for help outside of the lift only to have the doors ruthlessly crushing his bones, inducing agony so severely that he had to have his hand amputated.
Or another one during which a woman found herself trapped in it’s confinements while a thunderstorm was happening, and ended up electrocuting and dying before morning dawn.
It’s possible that Richie made those story’s up however, and Emma is the first one to admit that her pops does have a track record of pulling pranks on her, but there is a sliver of truth behind the stories.
Several people reported the elevator for malfunctioning, and the tenant always promised to fix the issue, but he never did, and so the thing continued to be a problem. Emma rarely used it, and if she happened to make use of it’s services, she made she was always accompanied by someone who could help in case of an emergency.
June twentieth though, she returned home from school, secretly excited about the prospect of being on her own for the evening, as Richie and Eddie were going out on a date to celebrate their anniversary, and she already imagined all the junk food she bought and would eat throughout the night, when she stumbled upon a problem.
The apartment Richie, Eddie and her lived on was located at the top floor, the furthest away from the prying eyes of the public, in lieu of their future home being renovated, which meant that taking the stairs was a painstaking chore that left her drained of all energy by the time she made it up.
Normally, she occupied the escalator anyway, but she slipped and twisted her ankle at school that morning, and despite it not hurting too bad, Emma figured that using the elevator was still the better call, so her ankle had time to rest.
She hesitated only briefly, before confidently walking in the lift, and pressing the bottom for the eight-floor. Emma tried to make light off the situation, using humor the way Richie had thought her, telling herself that she better take a large gulp of air, just in case the door refused to open again once they slid shut.
‘I got this I got this I got this’, she murmured to herself, psyching herself up before panic overtook her. Using the elevator was an irrational fear she had, and no amount of times riding helped any good in overcoming it. Realistically, the worst thing that could happen was that she locked in, waiting until a neighbor also needed to use the elevator and noticed that someone was in there, then effectively helping her out, but the thought of spending even five minutes with no way out gave her chills, so she suppressed that thought and waited patiently until the lift moved up.
Only it didn’t. The doors latched shut, but no movements upwards preceded. Clearing her throat, Emma hit the floor number again, rationalizing that she pressed the number too soft to be registered, but the eight lit up and yet again no movement took place.
Emma laughed antsy, breathing in and out deeply, still convincing herself that everything was fine, and a firmer hand was needed to get the lift moving, but when nothing happened, she hurriedly thumbed the open button.
With a screeching sound, the doors began to open, wide enough that tears welt up in Emma’s eyes from relief, but then the doors unfolded just enough to see through them into the open hall, not big enough for Emma’s form to fit through, and then shut again.
Terror infiltrated every pore of her being, rendering her a anxiety riddled mess, her breathing shaking too much to properly inhale. Black spots danced on the edge of her vision, becoming faint enough that Emma stumbled backwards and had to grip the railing bar tight in order not to fall.
The temperature read 35° degrees Celsius, the room hot enough that sweat drops formed on Emma’s forehead, and she lost her cool, her mind conjuring up the worst case scenarios.
She repeatedly pushed the open button, wheezing fresh air in the nik of time, while begging to whoever was listening to save her from this mess. Changing tactics, Emma attacked the alarm bell, but then over-analyzed that too. She had no clue whether or not she was supposed to hold it for a longer period of time, or release it and attempt multiple times.
A phone that connected to the main office was also present, and when Emma perceived that, she lunged for it and held it to her ear as close as possible.
‘Hello, please help me’, her voice cracked, ’I’m stuck.’ Nothing but static greeted her, no person on the other line to help her or comfort her, no help on the way.
The tears began bolstering down her cheeks then, a single one leading the way for many others once the dam was finally broken. In spite of not receiving an answer, Emma repeated the same word over and over again anyway, unable to think of any other way out.
She feared that if she kept opening the door, that that too would stop working, and then the heat building would suffocate her. Or the elevator may crash down, killing her instantly, or starvation and dehydration would take her out before anyone finds her and saves her. The fears may sound un-rational, but to Emma they were very real, and she worked herself up into a near panic attack.
‘Please, please, please, I want my parents’, she continues to sob, hoping against all hope that someone apprehends her message.
Her prayers seemed to have been answered when a white glove creeps through the elevator slot, the fingers wiggling back and forth.
‘Take my hand Emma, I’ll help you out.’
Inhibitions aside, Emma allowed said hand to wrap around her wrist, and urged her closer to the edge of the lift, another gloved hand pushing the lift apart and jerking her through. Ignoring the way the stranger somehow knew her name and the way she was lucky she wasn’t crushed by the doors, Emma heaves down on the ground, her painful ankle all forgotten.
The jitters in her body making her stand on shaky legs until she dropped down on her knees. Lunch had already processed most likely, as she couldn’t hurl up anything solid, but a bad taste lingered in her mouth lingers in her mouth regardless
When the last flow leaves her, Emma sits back, still on the ground, her hands buried in her hair to ground herself.
‘You’re out, you’re okay, you’re fine,’ she reassures herself, refraining from rocking back and forth.
For the first time, Emma glanced upwards to look at the person who saved her. The man, if she could call it that, wore a clown suit, completed with a face caked full of make-up. She inched away from him when their eyes connected, certain that the eyes that stared back were yellow, but upon second glance, she notices they were blue, just like her pops.
‘hmm, are you alright there? You look a bit shaken up’, the man grinned with his teeth visible, yellow and sharp on top while his tongue licked over them like he was hungry. He creeped Emma out, but he did rescue her, so Emma felt obligated to give him the benefit of the doubt.
‘Thank you’, she breathed out, the tears in her eyes running dry. He extended a hand out to her, and she took it, pulling herself upright and shaking the nerves off of her.
‘Who are you?’
‘My names Pennywise the dancing clown,’ he giggled in a weird, unsettling tone, ‘you really should refrain from using that lift, I heard it’s,’ he paused and winked at her, ‘scare inducing.’
‘Right,’ Emma trailed off, the polite smile on her face never fading away. ‘Oh wait, you’re a circus performer right? I heard about it coming to town from one of the posters outside.’
At pennywise nod, Emma relaxed. Sure, he came across as frightening, but maybe that was just her imagination after the scare she had experienced, and it would provide a reason why he was dressed like that.
‘Yes yes’, he explained, ‘do you like the circus? Because I love it’, he twisted his body in a way that made bells go off, the smile on his face unusually large for his face. Speaking of which, his forehead was also massive.
‘Your fathers used to love the circus too.’ The admission sparked new interested within Emma, who perked up and listened to him with all her attention.
‘You knew my fathers?’ she asked, shaking off the worry that loomed in the back of her mind.
‘Why yes of course I do, we were all best friends, and we did so much fun things together. If you want, I’ll tell you all about it.’
Emma hesitated, she had never met this man, and he seemed to be sketchy, but at the same time her interests had been piqued, and she figured that the man wouldn’t have come to her aid if he had something malicious planned.
‘They lived in Derry, Eddie and Richie, and they have always been best friends. But the summer of 1989 was one they’ll never forget.’
Emma frowned, neither her dad nor her pops had ever mentioned the summer of 1989, nor had they ever discussed any other people outside of the losers club, but if he knew their names were Eddie and Richie, there’s no way he hadn’t met them.
‘Ow yes, the summer their nightmares came to live right before their very eyes,’ his voice lilts up in a sing song sound, almost a mocking tone, and he belly laughs, as if the prospect of facing your fears was that funny to imagine.
Emma’s heart began to pound faster when the memories of the lift resurfaced, and she couldn’t phantom anyone laughing at that.
‘It all began with uncle Bills little brother….’
When Emma awoke, she was laying down on the sofa, her legs stretched over side so her feet were dangling. She lifted her head and scanned the room in confusion, blinking away the sleep from her eyes.
She would’ve swore that she had a conversation with a guy, but maybe that was a nightmare that she experienced a little too vividly. The talk was strange to begin with, anecdotes including murder, brutal attacks and near death experiences presented as something that really took place, something her family endured.
A quick search on the internet let Emma to believe that she saw a hallucination induced by her distress, and so she never mentioned anything to her fathers when they returned home from their date.
Perhaps the man had offered help to Emma, and he was uncanny enough that Emma dreamed about him after he left, but the conversation was all in her head and never had never come to pass.
The elevator was at full service again the next day, so she never informed Richie and Eddie of that either, feeling no need to rehash how irrational she behaved.
She adamantly fought tooth and nail to never step near the lift at any time, and since her parents were good at parenting, they accepted that with no questions asked, although Richie would huff and puff walking up and down the stairs, his old man bones creaking in protest changelessly.
-----
‘Chug chug chug’, Bill chants, his hands balled in fist chomping down on the table as he viewed Richie gulping down his glass in one smooth sling.
‘I hate it here’, Stan rolls his eyes, downplaying the nearly there smile that graced his face upon hearing roared laughter.
Losers club meetings always brought a never seen amount of chaos and noise, causing them to be chucked out of restaurants more than once, but they’re never deterred.  
Stan advocated on multiple occasion to host the parties in one of their houses, but upon the suggestion of organizing one at his house, he backed down and dejectedly proposed a new restaurant they’re welcome at, for now.
This time, the choice alternated between a new Thai restaurant or a steak house that Richie tipped very generously for last time they visited, the new Thai place being a tad more inviting.
Emma loved losers meetings, because she always got to reconnect with her aunts and uncles, and also because the food was more than delicious.
She adored all the losers dearly, but the one she formed a special bond with was Mike, the history buff who knows more than Emma’s actual history teacher, and the one who somehow knows all the right words she must hear if she asks for advice.
The spot next to him is without fail the one chair that remains empty until she arrives, hanging off the tip of his tongue to hear about all the adventures he undergoes on his far off trips.
Today is no exception, Mike sitting on Emma’s left as she bolsters equally as loud as her uncles and aunts as liquid spills from the side of her pops’s face, staining the new shirt her dad recently bought and now belongs in the trash.
Eddie’s face is set in a scowl, as he thrusts out for a napkin and hands it over to Richie, who takes it with a smack kiss on the cheek as a romantic gesture Eddie repulses away from.
‘Dude, keep your disgusting bear filled lips the fuck away from me’, his face lighting up with a blush he tried but fails to suppress. His repulsion of germs decreases every day, but it’s not gone completely, the avoidance of touching the table with any skin proof.
‘Oh come on Eddie, it can’t possibly bother you that much, you married the guy’, Stan remarks, chuckling when Patty softy taps him on the arm.
A waiter pops his out from behind a wall, his face betraying nothing, but the murderous look in his eyes more than telling enough that this will be the last time they pop in this eatery. He refrains from saying anything though, walking away with a rigid back to no doubt complain to his coworkers about annoying table number five.
Thank god, they’ve only arrived an hour ago, and are still waiting on their food to come, and Emma is excited to try it.
‘Ben and I saw the circus in town two weeks ago,’ Bev steers the conversation in a different direction, bored with the current lack of anything but laughter.
The mention of the circus reminds Emma of the strange encounter that happened, the incubus she can recall in perfect detail. The duality of reality and fiction confusion her to this day. She’s pretty sure she dreamed the whole thing besides her being stuck, but then did Pennywise exists for real? And if not, then who helped her out?
The table turns abnormally quiet, so much so that it shocks Emma out of her thoughts. Stan’s face in particular drains of all color and he taps his fingers on the table to remain calm and collected, Patty scrutinizes his every move, but she is lost for how to react as well.
Ben sips his drink awkwardly, clearing his throat after and lacing his hand with Bev with a warning squeeze. Emma is a second away from asking what in the world is going on, but Richie’s got it covered.
‘Yeah, you saw any one familiar? Like a type of clown hoping we die gruesomely? It’s been a while huh I wonder how he’s doing these days.’
‘Richie’, Eddie hisses exasperated, motioning his head in Emma’s direction to remind Richie their daughter was still in the room with them.
Emma chortles at his joke, covering her mouth with her hand so that no piece of the chip she’s nibbling on accidentally lands on the table, the others following her lead easily. They remain at the edge of their seat, not yet settled, but Richie’s humor calmed them down enough that the tense atmosphere around the room fizzles out.
Emma, unthinkingly and mindlessly adds; ‘That someone happened to be named Pennywise?’
She continues to chuckle at her addition, right up to the point that a glass crack to her left, Ben’s glass splintered in tiny pieces on the floor as his big, shock filled eyes gawking at Emma as if she announced she’s pregnant.
The sound of glass relinquishing disturbs Emma’s laugh, the blast spooking her out of nowhere.
‘What? Her dad asks her pressed, and if she thought the losers looked keyed up before, the consternation they now display is in a whole different ballpark.
Trying to rail the topic back on track, Emma continues to jest the situation, reminiscing on the fictional things in her dream.
‘Yeah, you know Pennywise. The clown that transformed into your worst fears. Stan’s painting, pop’s clowns, dad’s gazebo’s, oh and of course we can’t forgot about breaking dad’s arm right.’
No one else laughs, all of them staring shell shocked ahead, unbeknownst to Emma thrusted back to the summer of hell.  
‘Emma,’ Richie address her, his palm rubbing across his chest on the left side, his heart burning with urgency to protect his daughter and his family without a second of hesitation.
Richie rarely uses her name in place of a nickname, so she drops the act and tunes out every other person and sound for the sake of paying attention to her pops.
‘Where did you hear all of that?’
A cold gust of winds breezes around the room, resulting in shivers that shake Emma’s whole body. All members of the losers club focus on her, awaiting her response to the question. Eddie and Richie in particular are most keen on finding out how their daughter somehow, without any of them telling, savvy traumatizing events of their youth.
‘I don’t know, a nightmare. Why is it so important?’ Emma inquires, enclosing her body with her arms in an effort to comfort herself.
‘A nightmare?’ Eddie clarifies, the intention behind his inquire not flying over her head.
‘Emma’, Mike interrupts to stop the impending flood of dread about to unleash over her before it even begins.
‘I know you know so much more than you’re letting on. I understands why this is scary, but it’s of the upmost important that you come clean now.’
Mike can read her better than a book, and that’s saying something for a librarian, so Emma gives in, overwhelming tears sticking to her eyelashes, the attention proving to be too much, begging anyone in the room to explain to her what’s going on.
‘The elevator got stuck in our apartment building, and this guy, Pennywise helped me out.’
‘Oh applejack,’ Richie exclaims, understanding now why she’s so resilient on trudging the escalator. Eddie scrambles up from his chair across from Emma’s seat, and tucking her away safely in his arms, her head underneath his chin.
‘it’s okay Ems, you’re safe, you’re fine.’ He soothes her, suppressing his own sobs at the knowledge that Pennywise had been this close to attacking his daughter, the light of his and Richie’s life. Richie joins him a moment later, pressing both Eddie and Emma close to him in spite of the difficult position they’re in.
‘Yeah, no fucking clown is coming near you again, well except for uncle Stan then of course. He gets a pass.’
Uncle Stan dishes out no jab, inevitably inciting more terror in Emma, who whimpers and hides behind the shield her dads form around her.
The night ends with a sleepover all the losers join in on, each and every one committed to creating a safe space for Emma, and if that means killing Pennywise again, then so be it.
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raleigh-ocean · 4 years
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among the fields of gold (is where i want to be with you) | billie dean howard x dara ann lynch
words: 3,897
summary: AU. Everything is almost the same, except that after Dara’s ultimatum to Billie, the older medium got hit by the wave of maternity, thanks to finally have everything be displayed in front of her. And now, a year later, Billie wanders idly in the feeling of building a new home while looking at how her soon-to-be-wife and mother of her kid, keeps being effortlessly beautiful and amazing even with the pressure of carrying their unborn child.
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Billie was almost falling asleep while reading her book, glasses slowly sliding down her nose, when the sound of broken glass sounded all over the bedroom. 
"Oh fuck," it was definitely a gasp followed by a groan of pain and Billie didn't feel more awake ever in her life. "Fuck, fuck."
"Are you okay?" Billie went to the end of the bed, with her heart beating fast against her ribcage and when she saw the other woman trying to move, her voice came out rushed. "Wait, don't move Annie. The floor is covered in glass and you're barefoot."
Before doing anything else, Billie was really fast checking Dara's whole figure. Wet long hair half covering her face, scrunched up in discomfort; hand in her stomach, as if she was pressing something back in place; long legs covered in clean pajamas, no signs of anything worrisome. Okay, everything was in place, she thought while moving to get the broom and the mop. 
Billie tried to be as quick as possible brooming around Dara's feet and then helped her to sit in bed, pressing a kiss to her temple with love.
When she went back to the bedroom after cleaning the mess, the tiredness of the day slowly coming back to her, there was another priority before anything else. Dara didn't move from where Billie left her, sitting on the edge of her side of the bed, and she was trembling ever so lightly with her hands covering her face. Billie worried, stopping in front of her and kneeling between her slightly parted legs to be closer to her. Hearing Dara sniffing like that broke Billie's heart a little and, carefully, she managed to put her hands over her wife's.
"What's wrong, my love?" Billie said with a tender tone while pulling a bit so she could see Dara's face. "Are you hurt? Tell me, c'mon."
"I'm fine, it's just...I feel so...clumsy," Remember Billie, she's way too tired from the day too. Billie said to herself, caressing with her thumb the inside of Dara's right wrist. "The kick caught me off guard," Dara lowered her left hand, covering the spot near her ribs where she felt it. "Now my tea is gone and my favourite mug as well."
Billie lowered her head so Dara couldn't see her smile in some kind of relief, because it wasn't that serious after all, and then placed her hand over Dara's. There, on top of her eight months' big belly, to reassure her while gathering the correct words to put her at ease.
"You better prepare yourself once you're out, you're in big trouble for breaking mama's mug, you little rascal," she tried to sound serious while tapping softly with a fingertip in Dara's belly, pressing a kiss there thanks to being in the best position to do so. "You're not clumsy, lovely, you're just really tired and still in need of tea," then she moved her hands to cup Dara's face to kiss her on the lips, lovingly, and then place a few more on her cheeks. "So what do you say about me bringing you another one while you get in bed, babe? Hmm?"
It wasn't hard to see how Dara wanted to tell her otherwise, that she didn't need to go get another one, but for some reason she didn't voice it this time. Dara accepted the offering with a tiny nod and Billie kissed her again, sweet and slow like she liked, before standing up and making her way back to the kitchen.
Who would have told Billie that Dara, the most 'don't worry, I'll do it myself' force to ever exist, would finally let her indulge in caring for her without putting up a fight?
In the privacy of the kitchen, she chuckled a bit while preparing another tea for her girl just for thinking like that. All it took for that to happen was to be heavily pregnant with all her hormones being a total mess. 
Again, the reminder of Dara being actually pregnant made Billie feel her chest explode in warmth. She still couldn't believe they were going forward that direction, still recovering from getting married almost two years ago, but for once Billie felt that everything was falling in place in her life. And that made her happy, for real, because she had wandered too long without having a long term plan, only living one day at a time in her head, until the possibility of losing what she loved the most at that point of her life became present. Sometimes Billie still remembered the crippling fear that drained her during those three awful days, but looking at her right every morning to find Dara sleeping soundly with an arm over her middle, was enough to make her forget about the bad times.
How was she so blind to almost lose such a good thing?
Pushing her glasses up in her head, she took a peek from the corner of the kitchen at the bedroom. She could see how Dara was in the middle of the bed, laying on her side with her head on Billie’s pillow, and she seemed peaceful, or at least calm. These days it was confusing for Billie to discern everyone’s feelings, which made her be more vocal and talkative about them because she couldn’t rely on her powers for that. But she truly wished for Dara to have an actual break for the day.
Not only they had been dragged around by Audrey in what she called an 'emergency wardrobe alarm', which basically consisted in the actress taking them to window shopping - and then do the actual shopping -; but they also had passed by Dara's older cousin's new home to help her unpack. All of that Billie could do perfectly fine, but her wife - God, she would never not smile like an idiot when she referred to Dara like that - found it very trying and tiresome after the first four hours.
Even Danielle had tasked her own twelve years old daughter, Damien, to look over her aunt but soon Dara was helping them - and Danielle's wife - with taking things out of the many boxes they had.
And, on top of it all, Carla and Lucille had called to check up on them. In between their mothers and their incessant need to remind them to actually set up the nursery like now - and argue, once again, why they didn't find a new place -, they had managed to drain the last bits of energy Dara still had in her.
Ah, and how could she forget that before of it all, it was Saturday and that meant house chores.
So she couldn't blame her girl to react like that upon feeling something normal, at this point, like their bun trying to be noticed.
Billie loved to refer to their baby as silly stuff.
"Bills?" Dara's voice sounded a bit louder, snapping Billie out of everything.
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"Can you bring me a soft candy from my bag as well?" Billie had to muffle a laugh against the back of her hand, Dara unaware of it. "A cherry one."
"On my way to you."
And to think that they were in this because Billie got hit with the maternity wave in a tidal wave mode. It was all Harriet, Jo and Dayanara's fault, waking in her that need she never felt before. Best friend, sister and sister-in-law respectively, the three of them managed to warm her to the idea after seeing them be that happy with it at the same time. Billie thought Dara was going to be the one falling in, but it was actually her the one voicing all those new feelings and doubts to her wife. Dara was insanely good with kids, she could handle her nephews and nieces so easily that it always amazed Billie...and also worried her, because maybe she was holding Dara back from having her own children.
Tea ready and a couple candies in the inside of her tit pocket - ha, God bless tit pockets in pajamas -, Billie made her way back to the bedroom to find Dara drying her hair better with a towel and brushing it to keep herself occupied.
"Here you have, my queen," Billie said in a soft voice, climbing into bed and giving Dara the new cup of tea. "And I'll let you guess where are your candies."
"Sweet," Dara hummed while sipping on her tea - to this day, Billie didn't know how could she drink it that hot - and then give her a tired yet a bit amused look, a smirk forming on her lips. "I bet you didn't eat them."
Billie faked a hurt gasp, making Dara chuckle - sweetest sound she could hear - after leaving her tea on the nightstand. Then Dara leant a bit, kissing Billie's neck while taking her hand and slowly moving it over her belly.
"And I know you have it on you," Billie felt a chill going down her spine when Dara whispered that in her ear, kissing her under it. "Then where could they be, I wonder?"
"Annie…"
"Billie," no, the ting in her voice, that wasn't fair! Billi felt how Dara was using her free hand to walk slowly with her fingers over the buttons of her pajama shirt. "How many times did I tell you..."
It was the right thing, the natural thing to do to just turn her face enough to capture Dara's lips in a deeper kiss. It was also natural to turn her body enough for Dara to lean in better and for her to be able to hug her back, still trying to not move her hand much from where Dara left it.
"...not to hide food from me."
And then Billie wasn't kissing Dara like her life depended on it because Dara was getting comfortable in her chest, unwrapping her reward and eating it with the happiness only she could get from something so simple.
She couldn't help but laugh openly, letting her wife be and receiving an innocent kiss in her neck for that. Getting more comfortable like that, Billie rubbed her eyes under her glasses with her right hand before taking them off and kissing the crown of Dara's head tenderly - soft mint scent from her shampoo making her slowly forget that she got turned on. Her left hand, over their child, started to draw soft patterns to keep herself occupied, getting under Dara's shirt with expertise.
"One day you'll be the death of me, but I'll probably deserve it for being an asshole," Billie chuckled again and then looked down to find Dara with her eyes closed, enjoying the caresses and her candy. "Is she moving right now?"
"Like a clock," she mumbled, half for being comfortable and half because she was chewing her candy. "And you should start admitting he's going to be a boy." 
"I'll admit that once I actually see it, your doctor can kiss my ass if she thinks I'm gonna believe that cranky image was supposed to tell me she's a boy," Dara groaned but giggled the same because they've been having the same quarrel ever since. Not even their two whole families were capable of making her think otherwise - maybe it had to do with Dara's grandmother, Alicia, agreeing with Billie in this. "We're going to win this argument, sweetpea, so I can remind all of this to your mother for the rest of our lives, right?"
Billie's hand drifted down Dara's belly and in her way, as if the baby overheard her, felt a 'bump' against her hand. 
"That's my baby girl," Billie smiled and Dara only pressed her body better against her, unwrapping the extra candy in Billie's titty pocket. "And that's mine, you sugar thief."
"Come get it then."
Holding the candy between her lips, Dara waited for Billie to indulge - how much she loved to indulge - and get it after pressing a long kiss to her lips. And sometimes Audrey asked why she loved kissing her wife so much, how not when every kiss gave her a sugar rush? 
Oh great, now she was getting sappy.
"Bills?" the only one being able to call her that and not leaving her with a weirded out sensation was Dara. "What were you reading?"
"Remember that book you bought me last week about the Peloponnesian War? I started it at work the other day and got more invested after a quarter of it, so I was almost finishing already," Billie explained absent-mindedly, trying to reach for it to show how she had left not more than a hundred pages. "However I do admit I was falling asleep."
Dara chuckled at that, taking the book from Billie's so she could go back to caressing her belly. From the moment it was more noticeable, Dara had started to be very protective of her baby and if in the second trimester she still let people to put a hand on her belly, with the third trimester she only let Billie do that and the rest would actual get her best angry stare if the thought of touching ever crossed their mind.
Audrey absolutely got a few, making Dahlia to console her by kissing her cheek several times.
"You should rest then, you've been having trouble sleeping lately and today was a really long day," Dara played with the pages, passing her thumb over the corner to make a little fan. "Maybe you could oversleep tomorrow."
Said the woman who got insomnia over the last few months, who could understand her. 
Putting a half dry dark lock behind Dara's ear, Billie kissed the top of her forehead and let out a deep sigh. She wasn't letting Dara be awake all by herself, at least as much as she could.
"I'm okay, don't worry," Dara moved to drink more of her tea while Billie tried to find a position in which she couldn't fall asleep. "What're tomorrow's plans?"
"As far as I'm concerned, ironing and getting lunch ready," Billie opened her arms again for Dara to get in them and got a new kiss, then a soft boop on her nose. "Remember, Dani and Tiffany are coming over."
"Where was I when that was said again."
"Smoking in Dani's backyard," Dara nuzzled her nose into Billie's neck a bit. "I sent Damien to get you but, and I repeat what she said, you were taking a nap balancing the cigarette with two fingers like a pro."
Oh, right. 
Billie didn't even notice those micro naps, because she felt them as if she was blinking a bit too long. With Dara being restless many nights, those had become frequent. Sometimes at her desk, in the car, watching television, reading...and now smoking as well, apparently.
"Well, then I'll do the ironing and your only task tomorrow is to nap and think what are we cooking," Dara whined when Billie took the chores off her and she only tutted at her. "You're exhausted and hanging on weird naps because you can't sleep well, let me do the heavy parts around the house so you can have some proper rest."
"I'm not gonna break Billie Dean, I can still do stuff."
Of course I know that, silly. Billie thought when Dara said that in a half annoyed tone. 
"That's not what I'm saying and you know it," Billie tried to look at Dara in the eyes, but she turned around to let her back face Billie. "Annie."
"Annie what?" Dara mumbled that against her pillow, trying to get comfortable after turning off her night lamp, while Billie was sitting up in bed to rest her back against the headboard.
"Don't be angry," a little groan not for telling her otherwise, Billie noted. "I just want you to rest for one day, a few hours even, is that so bad?"
Billie was met with silence this time and if it wasn't because she knew by hand Dara's sleeping patterns as of now, she would've believed she fell asleep right away.
She sighed but didn't move from her position, except for her right hand that went to brush Dara's hair tenderly. As far as she knew, Dara had always been traumatized by having her hair a mere inch longer than her usual, but since they knew about the baby...well, she had been letting it grow until it was longer than Billie's. As if she was battling with her own traumas now instead of keeping on dwelling in them, going forward with her all in order to be...free of them somehow.
And that wasn't the only thing she battled and therefore made Billie think that, yes, her wife was the toughest cookie out there.
"Annie," Billie caressed her side with care, trying to spoon her from behind and getting a soft hum from her. "Dara," she snuck her arm with mastery under Dara's, who just nuzzled her back against Billie's front and laced her fingers with hers. "Dara Ann," Billie pressed her lips behind Dara's ear even more carefully. "I love you, you know that right? I love you and I care about you, I care about our baby and I don't want you to exhaust yourself just because," she felt her wife shift in her arms, slightly enough to turn her head a bit and look at her again. "I'm here to make things easier for you, I don't forget you totally can drag my ass if necessary and I absolutely don't want to make you think you can't do stuff or that I'm doing it because I think you can't," Billie took advantage of the position to lean a bit and kiss her temple. "I can iron our shirts while you play, rest or nap or just talk to me about anything in your pretty head."
Billie totally knew that the short annoyed feeling passed the second Dara pouted, her lower lip a bit more out and she stole a kiss out of habit.
"You always leave weird crooked lines in them, you're impatient as shit."
"Hey, I've been watching you iron for over five years now, you rascal," it was easy to find where Dara was the most ticklish and soon her giggles were filling the room. "How do you think I survived the four prior years to that and since I moved at twenty-five?"
"Do you want me to reply to that or…?"
She totally had to shut her pretty wife up with a deep kiss, it was fair, right?
But having Dara reciprocate more eagerly than expected, turning fully around and then pinning her in a not that swift move, made Billie feel like, yeah, her wife could be the death of her anytime and she willingly would let her. It's hard to find a position in which she's comfortable, but they managed as they had managed for the last few months.
And afterwards, when both were even more exhausted than they already were, there's no doubt that probably none of them is going to iron their clean clothes early in the morning.
However, it's all worthy because, after cleaning up, Dara is completely off to dreamland before Billie can even go back to bed with her. And let me tell you that, after many days, Billie felt herself rest hearing her snoring ever so soft with a pretty smile on her matching pretty lips. She even smiled as well, getting comfortable and letting her hand lower until she felt the back of her hand touch Dara's belly.
From the moment they were just a thought, through the whole process to actually be there where they were comfortably growing now, Billie always felt this odd pressure in her chest. Growing or lowering, it was always present to remind her she was still there, breathing and feeling. 
When the first couple of tries didn't work and then Dara finally told her about how almost fifteen years ago she had an involuntary abortion, thus that's why she reacted the way she did upon knowing Dayanara was pregnant of Benjamin and her's first child. When Dara announced this third time was the good one yet still she had a major breakdown because she was scared. When around the fifth month they had to admit her in the hospital for a few days, because things weren't going that well - and then it was a false alarm. When she herself broke her arm while filming and had a major breakdown about not feeling she was going to be good enough, not even for Dara alone.
The pressure was always there and she worked well around it, maybe because that was her own survival instinct kicking in to make her go forward. But at the end of the day, all that Billie wanted was to be able to rest and have some good things coming. 
Moving her fingers around a bit, without caressing Dara's skin, Billie felt how her tears were finally pushing their way out. If she didn't love them that much, she wouldn't be feeling all that. How could she balance all of that between the only two beings on this Earth that she truly loved that wholeheartedly and purely? 
She would find a way, of course, she always found one...but the pressure was making her anxious.
Dara moved and Billie dried her tears in case she was awake, but the only thing her wife did was to reach for Billie in her sleep and then nuzzle her head against Billie's arm with a content hum. The little interaction reminded Billie that she wasn't alone in this, that they both could figure that out together and overcome any minor possible thing since they had managed to overcome pretty big and nasty ones.
She didn't know that next morning she would wake up late just to find Dara with all their clothes perfectly ironed and very invested in her video game; she didn't know that she would prepare her surprise lasagna nor that she would have a heartfelt conversation with Danielle over coffee.
They for sure didn't know that, a month from now, exactly the morning of the thirty-first of December, Dara would wake her up because her water broke, when she wasn't supposed to until a week or so on the new year. The chaos of Dara's family around them because they were spending the end of the year in Sacramento and with Danielle and Audrey, both the future godmothers, feeling as if they were going to pass out instead of the actual mother who wasn't giving birth.
Nor that Nathaniel Howard-Lynch would become Helena Marie Howard-Lynch, a healthy baby girl born before the New Year ringed and with Billie's ticket to annoy Dara for the rest of their days under her tiny arm - even when Nathaniel actually would come a couple years later as well.
No, she didn't know any of that.
But Billie did know, in that very moment, that she would stay by Dara's side for the rest of her days, among the fields of gold she chose not to leave and with the infinite source of white light shining upon her, all of that showing in the way Dara smiled only for her to see.
And let me tell you, Billie didn't want it any other way.
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i-am-just-a-kiddo · 3 years
Text
Thank you @vishcount for tagging me once again, you busy bee 💞
This took ages but was fun
1. What is the color of your hairbrush?  black
2. Name a food you never eat. hard cheese? like cheese that is not melted, the only exception is mozarella and feta 
3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? both, my system is all over the place so it keeps varying between extremes. but i loathe heat so i am not a good summer person, i whine so much 
4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? i watched this girl on youtube dragging onision’s book lol
5. What’s your favorite candy bar? hmmm i feel like i haven’t eaten one in ages but the one i remembered now is kaštan - the chocolate is so smooth, but i don’t have it often
6. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? i don’t think so? unless you count the gymnastics competions i went to when i was a child and still doing gymnastics
7. What is the last thing you said out loud? “enjoy your food” to my flatmate cooking in the kitchen 
8. What is your favourite ice cream? chocolate and lemon sorbet (or just any sorbet tbh) 
9. What was the last thing you had to drink? water
10. Do you like your wallet? yeah it’s cute, my dad bought it for me when i went through my kuroshitsuji phase - it’s fake-leather with the demonic sigil on one side and the japanese name on the other (also it’s hella battered rip)
11. What is the last thing you ate? pasta with spinach and feta (why is it with these i always eat pasta)
12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? nope
13. What’s the last sporting event you watched? am just gonna count street dance china here
14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? just normal salty ones
15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to? @vishcount as well, because i love them and i enjoy their screaming as well as screaming back at them 💞
16. Ever been camping? yes, my family and i used to go camping in italy all the time, it was so lovely. i miss those times sometimes. i’ve also been camping during festivals and the last time i went was denmark in summer 2019
17. Do you take vitamins? i take vitamin d’s during winter, and also eat oranges and lemons very responsibly
18. Do you regularly attend a place of worship? i do not, i only like looking at churches/mosques when they are empty so i guess i do that often 
19. Do you have a tan? no, and my mum keeps scolding me for my paleness
20. Do you prefer chinese or pizza? please don’t make me choose sob. i wanna say both, but i think pizza wins by slight margin
21. Do you drink your soda through a straw? not really, unless am at mcdonalds or somewhere else
22. What color socks do you usually wear? very colourful ones with patters!! since my entire outfit is black usually i love having cute/colourful/patterned socks (my recent treasure was provided by vishie and i sobbed)
23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? i can’t drive
24. What terrifies you? the future
25. Look to your left, what do you see? my water glass, my crocheting, a pile of writing material
26. What chore do you hate most? emptying the dishwasher - it’s too noisy
27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? steve irwin, i loved watching his show when i was little
28. What’s your favorite soda? coke or sprite 
29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? i can’t drive, so any other option
30. What’s your favorite number? i think eight but i don’t have strong feelings
31. Who’s the last person you talked to? my flatmate
32. Favorite meat? hmm fish and seafood (am 80% vegetarian so yeah) 
33. Last song you listened to? dragon tongue squad - chinese cooking (this song is so feel good and i love it okay) 
34. Last book you read? phew let me thing for a second. 
okay so i couldn’t remember the last book i read but i can name a longer dissertation called transformation and tradition: cataloguing chinese art in the middle and late imperial eras in by cheng yen-wen; and am working my way through an actual book called bronze and stone: the cult of antiquity in song dynasty china by sena yunchiahn c. (i feel like i don’t read anything else apart from uni lately - and honestly i am fine with that cause it’s fun) 
35. Favorite day of the week? friday maybe? 
36. Can you say the alphabet backwards? nope, we gotta sit here til tomorrow 
37. How do you like your coffee? black, in summer iced
38. Favorite pair of shoes? all my pairs of docs boots
39. Time you normally get up? hmm recently i have woken up somewhere between 9-10 but usually i take ages to get up so 11ish is a good time
40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? i loooooove sunsets in every form but i experience sunrises so rarely that it always feels very special and magical
41. How many blankets on your bed? one, and one for emergency
42. Describe your kitchen plates. bold of you to assume i have one set of kitchen plates and not just a jumbled mess of second hand plates and plates ppl have left in this flat ages ago. and honestly i wouldn’t want it any other way. (but i bought myself a pair of pastel pink and black plates from ikea)
43. Describe your kitchen at the moment. moderately tidy, for once it is not crowded and there are only some pots piling by the sink for drying
44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? sparkling wine/prosecco, wine, beer, gin tonic
45. Do you play cards? no, only uno and maumau cause i suck at cards
46. What color is your car? invisible cause nonexistent
47. Can you change a tire? nope!!
48. Your favorite state or province? uhm. huh. i think where i live right now is good, the capital is its own province so that is nice
49. Favorite job you’ve had? i have only worked at one factory that produces measurement equipment and spirit levels for 5,5 months in total and i gotta say, it was surprisingly okay? i mean it was hell, because everyone is treated like machines, but i guess i enjoyed doing physical labour on my own without having to interact with ppl a lot; and with those i interacted they were really nice and you sort of connect through this atmosphere of being stuck there (though i guess i was most privileged cause i knew i would go to uni and wouldn’t be stuck here for the next 30 years like many others that worked there. i am angry about this, why is capitalism like this)
i am tagging @sassyassassy , @intyalote , @the-cloud-whisperer , @isabellaofparma (two in one day - i am sorry, my friend vishie is busy tagging me in all these so am just continuing this love train). no pressure though, as always
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broken-clover · 4 years
Text
AU-gust Day 5- Post-Apocalypse
Ah. Um. Okay. This one is...sad. I mean I guess it kind of is by nature because of the theme? I wanted this to be upbeat and I feel like I missed the mark by a longshot. Wound up crying when I wrote this and tbh it’s probably half-coherent but here please take it. I promise I’ll do something less...this, next time
A massive bonfire lit up the tepid night, licking at the sky with every breeze and stick tossed onto it. Though he could make as big a fire as he wanted with just his hands and a little magic, Sol found a subtle beauty in nurturing a small kindling until it grew powerful enough that it only needed to be contained, swiftly gorging itself on whatever it came across and standing up to buckets of water that once would have been able to smother it a dozen times over. Almost like raising a child, in a way, though at least fire was easier to keep an eye on. And less raucous.
“Hey, old man!”
Speak of the devil. Sol shook his head with a smile and glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah? Thought you were supposed to be harvesting with your dad.”
Sin’s hair was as wild as it had ever been, though it took a little bit longer now for it to scrape the ground than it did before. It seemed easier and less labor-intensive to let it grow out into a shaggy mass nearly as tall as he was before lopping it all off. Sin used to be so intent of keeping it short at all times, but one could only go for so long being so hypervigilant before it turned to boredom and apathy. The only reason he even cut it at all was because of how he would trip over it while hunting and doing chores.
“I wanted to see if the fire was almost ready.” He pushed some of that messy hair back over his shoulder. “Besides, harvesting is boring, I’d rather help with the fire instead of having to carry stuff.”
Sol sighed, prodding the edge of a fire with a stick. “You’re nearly five billion years old, and you still complain about chores like a toddler.”
“Learned from the best!” Sin smirked back.
He was going to fire a retort back, but he could practically hear a little voice in his head chirping ‘Just let it go, Frederick. You know he’s just trying to get a rise out of you.’
“You’re right, you’re right.” He mumbled to himself.
Sin crossed his arms and huffed. “Fine! I’ll sit over with uncle raven then!”
The pale-haired man turned as sin approached the log he was on. “I’m afraid I won’t make for the best of company.”
“Still better than the old man! You use a lot of big fancy words and don’t yell at me when I slouch!”
“Sol!” A voice called from somewhere behind. As expected, when he turned towards it, he found Ky and Dizzy following, each carrying a large basket of greens.
“Figured you’d be longer. The brat didn’t exactly make it easier for you.”
“Well, I suppose a little mischief is alright for tonight.” Said Dizzy. “We were still able to find enough in the field for all of us to have plenty.”
Ky nodded. “And still plenty of leftovers, too. Little bit of mashed fruit, some potatoes, that cheese Raven made three years back, we have a lot! So make sure everyone eats well tonight. Not like we have to save it for anything.”
The man’s expression remained bright, but Sol’s fell. He looked back upwards. The midnight sky was a pale blue, hardly darker than midday. He couldn’t remember when it was truly dark enough to see the stars. Even the moon was little more than a vague crescent. At least the weather was tolerable, even with their hardy bodies, the days had become too hot to withstand, even in the underground bunker they’d shared for the last century or so. The sun was growing bigger and bigger every day, practically enveloping the sky. The few hours of ‘night’ were the biggest relief they got, so it made sense to make the most of what they had left.
Dizzy put her basket on the ground and began pulling out cobs of corn. “Where is Axl?”
“Said he was going on a grocery run.” Replied Ky. “I’m not sure what era though.”
That got Sin’s attention immediately. He sat up stick-straight. “Ooh, he’d better bring back something really good! Chips?”
“Mmm, shame he can’t go back to my time and bring back some of the treats I had in my youth.” Raven said wistfully. “Would probably attract too much attention.”
Sol idly thumbed at the dented lighter in his pocket. He’d run out of cigarettes, and had nothing to occupy his mouth. “He’ll be back whenever, not like he has any sense of deadlines. Just our luck, he’ll skip right past-”
As if on cue, a deep black abyss spiraled in the air nearby, crackling and popping for a moment before someone hopped through, carrying several bags.
“Right on time!” Axl cawed, raising a hand and walking over. “Glad I didn’t miss the party. I brought the food!”
Sin leapt out of his seat and scrambled towards the man, eyes shining. “What did you get? What did you get?”
“Easy, mate, I brought enough for everyone.” The plastic crinkled as he pulled out a variety of different things- packaged hamburgers, snack cakes, fresh fruit, and other things Sol didn’t bother taking note of. He only moved to catch a package of cigarettes as they were tossed to him.
“Maaan, this is much better than being stuck with vegetables!” the youngest’s eyes shone like he had been presented with a priceless treasure. “Jeez, how long’s it been since we’ve seen plastic bags? I think those all broke down ages ago.”
“And to think, people always used to say how wasteful they were, and how long they would take to break down.” Raven quipped, with a blithe little smile. “And now they’re impossibly rare relics.”
“Glad to provide!” Axl did a little bow. “Today, we enjoy the last swiss rolls in existence! Technically speaking.”
The feast started up soon after. Makeshift pots were set up for boiling vegetables, the leftovers were reheated over the fire. Axl’s food was bizarrely pristine alongside everything else, but nobody treated it as anything peculiar. Merriment followed the food, though it mainly just amounted to idle chatter and reminiscing.
“It’s delicious! Very well done.” Ky beamed, though Sol just knew it was bland, at best. “Corn’s so much different than it used to be, but I’m glad we still have that much. Reminds me of that one banquet, uhh, when was it? I seem to be blanking...can’t think of the millennium. I know there were still people back then, does anyone else remember the one with the corn sculpture?”
“Hmm.” Dizzy said. “Was that the one where Leo fell into the courtyard fountain after he drank too much?”
Ky thought for a moment in silence. “...Leo?”
“Scruffy blonde guy, had his own dictionary?” Sin offered.
“It was the first time you were king.” Added Sol.
“First...ah! Now I remember.” He nodded. “Goodness, that was forever ago. It’s hard to keep track. If I told my childhood self that someday I would become the ruler of thirty-five separate nations, I don’t think I would have believed it.”
“I tried once.” Axl replied, between bites of corn. “You thought I was bonkers. Kid-me said the same thing. Guess I don’t blame ‘em. I can hardly believe it sometimes. And I’ve been at this forever!”
“Mostly forever.” Corrected Raven.
“Oh sod off, birdie. B’sides, I could make words mean whatever I want ‘em to. There’s six of us! Who’s gonna stop me from saying ‘cold’ means hot and ‘hot’ means freezin’ your balls off!”
“Alright, alright, settle down.” Ky interrupted him. “We’re not here to fight. We’re here to celebrate. Sin, could you please pass me a hamburger?”
Sol couldn’t take this anymore. “I’ve gotta take a smoke break.”
They all seemed confused by his sudden outburst, but let him leave without too much trouble. He found a place in the wooded thickets that was secluded, where nobody but him could see the way his fingers trembled as he pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it.
Not even the animals were there to judge him. He couldn’t remember the last time those had existed, anyway.
So when the dead reeds began to rustle, he nearly jumped out of his skin. That was stupid of him. It had to be one of the others. Knowing his luck, it would be Sin, pestering him with enthusiasm and trying to drag him back to the fire, or Ky, with those big, soft, sad eyes that still managed to be able to throw him off guard.
“Chief?”
Shaggy blonde and dirty red bobbed in between the reeds, until Axl emerged right in front of him. How many centuries had he owned the same bandana?
“Chief, what was that about?”
Sol huffed, taking a long drawl of nicotine. “Jus’ needed a breather. I told you.”
“Don’t you toy with me.” The other’s voice softened. He pulled out a cigarette from his own pack.
“Didn’t know you smoked.”
“I’ve done just about anything that can be done.” Replied Axl. “I’m serious. What’s wrong? Why did you run off out of nowhere?”
He didn’t want to start a fight, not now. But even at a time like this, it felt preferable to admitting his feelings. It felt like a boulder was on his chest. “How can they be so…”
“So…?”
“So...happy? We can’t take anymore of this. Even if the sun doesn’t consume the planet tomorrow morning, the heat will incinerate everything on the surface and then some. How can they find it in them to celebrate? I know that whole family can be naive, but you and Raven-”
“Sol.” Axl cut him off, softly but firmly. “We know. They all know.”
The answer seemed obvious, but it still felt like a blow to the chest. Sol kept his expression hard and unreasonable. “You’re bluffing.”
“I’m not.” He said back. “God, why would I lie to you now? It’s the last bloody day in the world, what do I have to lose anymore?”
The space went quiet. The weight only seemed to grow heavier.
“You know, I’m older than the rest of you.” Axl sighed in dismay. “So, so much more. I’ve done this before. Never been this kind of fun, though. I guess I just needed to get hamburgers? Hehe…”
Sol refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing on a glowing bit of ash as it fell to the ground. “You don’t have to be here, y’know. Unlike the rest of us, you can just bail.”
He was met with a slow shake of the head, a patient smile, and sagging shoulders. “I’m an old man, chief. I might not look it, but I’m the oldest thing in the universe. More than you, and Sin, and even Raven. I’ve seen the universe begin over and over again, and every step of it after.”
“And?”
“And I’m tired. I’m really tired of all of this. I’m done. The universe is falling asleep, and I finally want to fall asleep with it. The end of it all is the one thing I’ve never allowed myself to see. It was so tempting at times, but I knew that, even with all of my abilities, I was only capable of living once. I tried changing time. I tried seeing what else there was in the universe. But it all came back to this. Just a handful of people, waiting for it all to end.”
The way his jaw clenched made Sol nearly bite through his cigarette and break his teeth. “Were you the one to tell them, then?”
Another shake. “They’re smart, Sol. I didn’t have to tell them anything. I’d feel so lucky, if I were you. I couldn’t think of anyone better to spend so many eons with.”
It wasn’t right. None of it. But no matter what, Sol knew it didn’t matter. He could spend every last moment of his life screaming and clawing in an attempt to change anything, but there was nothing he could do now. Just a moment of silence before the apocalypse.
So he followed Axl back to the fire. Sol put on one of his rare smiles and hunkered down to chat, regaling dozens of lifetimes with the only people who knew could understand what such an existence was like. The rise and fall of nations, births and deaths and the many long years in between. Wars and peace and prosperity and poverty. Hope and love and crushing despair and the ever-flicking light of human spirit that let them carry on so long, even as the world had begun to end.
Sin ended up falling asleep first, slumped against his mother. Raven and Dizzy and Ky had followed suit eventually, huddled under blankets as Sol glanced between them and the fire.
“Don’t you want to sleep?” He asked his only companion. “I can take care of putting this out.”
A hand slid around his waist. “I want to be with you. Just a little bit longer.”
Sol managed a smirk. “Seems like a waste. You could use it for sleeping.”
He felt the hand trembling slightly, and cling to his clothing. “Is it...is it bad that I’m afraid of being alone for this?”
“No.” Replied Sol, wrapping his own arm around Axl’s body. “It just means you’re human.”
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jovialyouthmusic · 4 years
Text
Proposal 2
A Royal Romance AU fanfic featuring Bastien Lykel
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Bastien has something on his mind - how will he propose to Sophia? Things do not go as he has planned.
Word Count 3517
A/N This is most definitely NS*W No under 18s please...
No Time Like the Present
‘Thankyou for letting me know’ Liam said as the Captain of the King’s Guard stood before him. ‘I understand why you wish to leave. I’m envious. To find someone you truly love and for them to love you back is a rare thing.’ He smiled – not ruefully, for his relationship with Olivia was blossoming as she progressed though her pregnancy. Bastien could see that he was developing feelings for the Duchess, and the citizens seemed to be warming to her despite her being a Nevrakis. That was perhaps because she was softening due to her condition.
‘Sophia will take up her new post in September, your Majesty’ he replied ‘The University will provide accommodation for us, so after I’ve resigned my commission we’ll spend some time touring Cordonia before we move out there’
‘If you visit again, you have a place to stay right here’ said Liam warmly.
‘Thankyou Sir. Sophia will only be working in term time so we’ll most probably come back for a summer break’
‘So Lewis will be taking over in July?’ The King asked ‘I’ll be a father by then’ his eyes shone with happiness
‘If all goes well, yes, your Highness’ The King looked over at the clock and sighed
‘I have a meeting with Lord Neville. Give Sophia my congratulations, won’t you? We’ll have to have dinner together soon – you and Sophia and Olivia.’
‘Of course’ Bastien bowed. ‘My regards to Lady Olivia’
------
Back at his suite later that day, Bastien changed out of his work clothes as Sophia got dinner ready. She had opted to make a simple pasta meal instead of sending down to the kitchens, to practice her rusty cooking skills in preparation for moving out of the Palace. The kitchenette wasn’t well equipped so she couldn’t do anything too elaborate
‘I know it won’t be for a few months yet, but practice makes perfect. I want us to be a normal couple.’ she said, stirring the sauce.
‘As long as normal couples have a healthy sex life’ Bastien said drily, taking a pinch of cheese from the bowl Sophia had grated. She slapped his hand
‘Stop that, wait ‘til it’s on the table’ she scolded ‘And we won’t have a normal sex life, we will continue to have a phenomenal sex life’
‘That is a certainty, theá mou’ Bastien said, sneaking his arm around her waist and kissing the nape of her neck. He felt her melt into him, then recover and straighten up
‘Go and sit down, otherwise we’ll end up making love and the sauce will burn’
‘That’s not exactly phenomenal’ Bastien sighed
‘We have to eat to keep our strength up’ she retorted ‘I’m all yours when we’ve finished – and when we’ve digested it.’ He smiled at her as she bustled about, draining the pasta and putting it into bowls.
‘It’s a good way to stay in shape’ he said ‘We never overeat just in case we need to give in to passion’ She snorted
‘True’ she said, ladling the sauce out and bringing the bowls over to the table. Bastien took the bottle of olive oil and poured a generous measure over the food, following up with some of the grated cheese. The two of them sat quietly eating for a while
‘So you saw the King today?’ she asked
‘Yes, he sent his congratulations on the job and wished us well. He suggested we go and eat with him and Olivia soon’
‘That would be nice’ she said. She hunched her shoulders up and grinned
‘I’m so excited about it all’ she said ‘I hope you don’t find it too cold in Edinburgh’
‘I have my love to keep me warm’ Bastien said, reaching out and squeezing her hand.
‘You old romantic’ she teased as he picked it up and kissed it
‘Less of the ‘old’, my goddess’
‘You can disprove that part very soon’ she said archly. He got up and took the empty bowls.
‘I’ll see to these’ he said ‘I’d better get used to doing chores instead of leaving it all to housekeeping’ He always sent his crockery back to the kitchens clean already, but he wanted her to know he would take an active part in housework when they had moved.
‘Hmm, should we get a dishwasher or should I make you do it all?’ she said mischievously ‘Do you know how to use a dishwasher or a washing machine?’
‘I’m sure it’s all very logical’ he said, clattering about with the dishes ‘And there are such things as instruction manuals’ Sophia got up and went through to the bedroom.
‘Bas, your jacket fell off the hanger’ she called ‘I’ll just put it back’ She picked it up and noticed a piece of paper in the jacket pocket. Instead of tucking it back into place, she took it through. ‘This was in the pocket’ she said. Bastien turned and blanched to see her holding the list – the list of all the ways he had thought of proposing. She frowned at his expression as he started toward her. He stumbled and banged his leg on the kitchen stool, knocking it over.
‘Bas’ what is it?’ she asked as he stared at the paper, his face twisted with pain as he rubbed his thigh. She couldn’t help but look at it more closely ‘This – this is a list…’
‘Please Sophia’ he begged ‘give it to me’ Looking at him warily she slowly held it out for him and he took it, breathing a sigh of relief. He realised with a pang of regret that she wasn’t going to let this drop – she was curious, and when she was curious, she would keep worrying at whatever had presented itself until she discovered the truth. It seemed that there was no time like the present.
‘Come with me, theá mou’ he said ‘I’ll explain everything – but not here’ He rubbed his leg, which was feeling better by the second.
‘Bas…’ she started, but he took her hand and lead her out into the lobby of their suite , his limp improving as he went out into the corridor and down the stairs. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked as he made his way to the outside door. The evening air was cool, the light fading, a crescent moon in the sky. He led her across the grass past the formal gardens toward the maze. He paused at the entrance, turning on the led lights that adorned the hedge. He remembered Sophia was claustrophobic, but he had been teaching her techniques to cope with it, so he took her hand.
‘Take your shoes off, theá mou’ he said ‘Hold my hand. I can get in to and out of this maze with my eyes closed’
‘I – I’ve never been in’ she said cautiously. He stood in front of her and tilted her chin up toward him, looking her in the eye.
‘Trust me, my English rose’ he said softly ‘I’ll tell you when we get to the centre. See how the lights shine’ She took a breath and kicked off her shoes, and he followed suit, balling his socks up into his. He placed them with hers just inside the entrance and took her hand again. If security had not already seen them enter the maze, it was a signal that someone was there and shouldn’t be disturbed. He smiled at the times he had watched the exit to see who emerged, and the times he had brought someone in himself for a romantic rendezvous. After only a slight hesitation, she acceded and they started off together.
‘The maze was designed by Queen Eleanor, Liam’s mother’ he explained ‘He and Drake – and Olivia and Maxwell and some of the other nobles – played here as children.’ He laughed ‘I or one of my men was always on hand in case they got lost. We didn’t mind them coming in, as we knew where they were and we could relax a little. The entrance is also the exit, and there’s no other way out’ he carried on through the familiar twists and turns.
‘Adults have made use of it over the years too’ he said ‘I can’t tell you how many couples slipped out here during balls and other events, and came out again with satisfied smiles.’ They were getting closer and he felt the grass cool on the soles of his feet, just a hint of moss here and there. Finally they came to the centre and he heard Sophia breathe a soft sigh of relief as the space opened out to the oak tree with the swing, a bench and a sundial.
‘Why did you bring me here, Bas?’ she asked.
‘I brought you here to tell you about this list’ he said, taking it out of the pocket he had secreted it in. ‘I’ve been working on it for far too long, and if I delay any more, it will never be completed’ He patted the little box in his pocket – he had carried it around ever since they had returned to the Palace from Edinburgh. It reminded him of what he must do – and soon. And that ‘soon’ was now. He dropped to one knee, thanking the gods that it was dry, and Sophia gazed at him, puzzled
‘Sophia, my goddess, every day I thank my lucky stars that you came into my life. I expected that I might die in service to King and Country, and that’s not something that a partner should live with. But things are different now, my life is safer, and living with danger has made me appreciate that we should make use of the time we have left.’ Sophia’s hand went to her mouth as he drew the box out of his pocket.
‘Sophia, I have been trying to plan the perfect proposal’ he continued ‘That’s what this list is – all the different ways I might ask you. But I’ve spent too long on it and you’ve taught me that perfection is not everything – love and spontaneity are equally important.’ He paused and looked up at her intently. ‘Sophia, will you do me the honour of marrying me?’ He opened the box and held it out to her – a simple gold band with a blue aquamarine stone set into it. Sophia gasped and reached out to take it, and Bastien’s heart made a little skip. He waited for her answer, not entirely certain of her reaction just yet
‘Bastien, it’s beautiful’ She sank onto the grass to join him, and took the ring out of the slot in the velvet cushion. She looked at him, her eyes shining, and placed her hand on his cheek to kiss him softly on the lips ‘Of course I’ll marry you, but you know you don’t have to, I plan on being with you for as long as we’re both breathing, a ceremony or piece of paper isn’t essential’ she answered.
‘I know, my goddess, but we should let the rest of the world know how we feel’ he smiled. He took the ring from her and slipped it on to her outstretched finger. ‘I thought of so many places where I could propose’ he said ‘But every time, I thought of something that might go wrong. Even just now I was terrified of dropping it’ He stood, reaching down to help her up, and went to sit on the bench by the swing. She sat next to him as he took the list from his pocket and showed her.
‘Here’ he said ‘I thought of that seafood restaurant in the capital, and putting the ring in the dessert – but you might have chipped a tooth or swallowed it, or they might have brought the wrong dish’ Sophia took his arm and nestled into him.
‘Bas, this is so typical of you’ she said ‘What else did you think of?’ He laughed
‘This one here – this was my worst idea. I thought of taking you to Ramsford and putting the ring box round the neck of one of Maxwell’s peacocks – you know, the one he calls Betsy despite it being a peacock, not a peahen’
‘But you hate that bird!’ she cried
‘I’d do anything for you, Sophia’ he asserted ‘Though I pretty quickly dropped that one.’ He pointed to another one
‘This one was in the hot tub at the lodge on the ridge – I was going to put the ring in your glass of champagne’
‘Let me guess, you were scared I’d swallow it’
‘Not scared, Sophia – concerned’ he said gravely. She squeezed his arm
‘and this one? Duchy ridge?’
‘We were going to climb to the top and I’d propose there – but the weather might have been against us. I also thought of naming a rose after you and having it put in the rose garden at Applewood, but that would have taken too long.’
‘This sounds intriguing’ she said, peering at the list as the light faded ‘the grotto at Portaviera? I remember you taking me there’
‘I really liked that one’ he said ‘but the risk of dropping the ring and losing it was too high’
‘Well’ she said ‘there’s nothing stopping us from doing all of those things – without the actual proposal of course’
‘Whatever you wish’ Bastien said ‘Though you’ll forgive me if we leave Betsy in his enclosure’
‘Of course my darling. Meanwhile’ Sophia said ‘We’re all alone, I’ve digested my dinner, and I’m now wondering about all those couples who wandered in here and came out with their clothes mussed up.’ A slow smile spread across Bastien’s face. She frowned slightly ‘Did you ever…’
‘I did, theá mou, I’m sorry’ he said, his expression changing to one of contrition ‘more than once.’
‘Bastien Lykel - did you keep a count?’ she asked, feigning a shocked expression.
‘Not exactly, but I can approximate.’ he assured her ‘and, my goddess, I can remember every single time with you’ His fingers danced lightly over her ribcage and she shivered in anticipation.
‘It’s lucky that you always deliver’ her voice was husky, and she slid off his lap. His eyes glittered as she stepped back to draw up the hem of her skirt and take off her panties. He didn’t quite succeed in suppressing a groan of satisfaction as she leaned down to slip them into his pocket as he sat with his hands on his knees. She moved close again, but he stopped her as she went to unfasten his belt, his hands going to her hips.
‘Stop - sit on the swing, theá mou’  he commanded. She bit her lip and swung her hips as she walked over to the oak tree and sat on the smooth wooden seat. She gripped the rough rope, keeping her feet on tiptoe on the ground so she stayed still. He moved across to the swing, to kneel in front of her. He gazed up at her, half conqueror, half worshipper, and with a sigh she parted her knees to allow him to get close, edging to the front of the seat. Her legs trembled, her toes on the ground until he lifted her legs and placed them over his shoulders, leaning forward to kiss the tender flesh of her inner thighs, the seat tipping back to allow him better access.
She hooked her arms around the ropes of the swing and crossed her arms securely, moaning appreciatively as he lapped and twirled his tongue deeper and deeper into her sensitive folds. He teased and delved until her whole body was thrumming with need, her thighs braced over his shoulders, toes curling as he brought her closer to the edge. She tightened her arms across her chest to grip the ropes tighter, head falling back and back arching. He braced the swing as she begged him for release
‘Oh Bas, I’m so close’ she panted. She felt him hum a wordless answer that finally sent her soaring to her climax, waves of pleasure raging through her body under the stars, with the moonlight and the white lights casting a pale light on the hedges around them. She let out a guttural cry as she shuddered and slowed and softened. When she was still he sat up and held her firmly, nuzzling into her neck and kissing the flesh there.
‘My goddess, my English Rose’ he murmured into her ‘I’ll never stop loving you. All the others were to prepare me for you.’ He cleared his throat ‘I think we might manage one more trip to heaven before we go back inside’ Sophia laughed
‘That’s only fair, agápe mou’  Bastien stood and offered her his hand.
‘I think using the swing again is an accident waiting to happen’ he smiled. She stood shakily and he took her to lean against the great oak tree. She bit her lip as she helped him free himself of his pants and boxer briefs. Her hands snaked around his back and lower to pull his hips against her, his hardness pressing against her, and their lips met in a passionate kiss. His hands snuck under the hem of her dress to find flesh. She winced at the rough bark of the tree.
‘The bench, my love’ she panted as their lips parted ‘sit down’ He drew away and did as she said. She straddled him, her knees on the bench, and slowly lowered herself onto him, moaning at the welcome intrusion. He gazed up at her as she settled, squeezing her walls around him before they started to move together.
Slowly and sensuously they worked, every breath, every sigh expressing and interpreted as the pathway to their inevitable climax. Before long they shuddered with their release and sat entangled for a while before Sophia got up and rearranged her clothes and retrieved his. He dressed swiftly.
‘So, we should probably think about the wedding’ he said, taking her hand and admiring the ring on her finger. Sophia smiled
‘I’m no bridezilla’ she said ‘something simple will be fine - unless you want more’
‘I want what you want’ he assured her, and they started off to navigate their way out of the maze. She remained silent as they put their shoes back on and went back toward the staff wing. At the door Sophia stopped and turned to him, planting a kiss on his lips.
‘I think that was the best possible place for your proposal’
‘I’m glad you think so, but I’m still going to take you to all those other places’
‘Are you afraid I’ll change my mind?’ she teased as they climbed the stairs.
‘Why you want an old fool like me I don’t know, but I’m glad you do’
‘Sophia Lykel’ she said softly ‘It sounds good.’
‘It sounds heavenly’ he agreed. They were back in their suite, and Sophia looked at the bedroom door.
‘I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep just yet’ she said ‘We have so much to think about – so much to plan.’
‘Maybe we should go to bed anyway’ he suggested ‘We can always just talk until you feel sleepy’
‘Sounds like a plan’ She put her arms around his neck and pressed her nose to his ‘I love you, Bastien Lykel, and I’m honoured you asked me to be your wife.’
------
They settled into bed together, Bastien sitting up against the headboard and Sophia snuggling in to his side.
‘I meant what I said’ she murmured ‘We were meant to be together, you don’t need to marry me, and I’m not hung up on the idea of the perfect wedding’
‘I know, theá mou’ he said ‘But looking at it from a practical point of view, legally it’s better to be in some sort of recognised partnership’ She laughed softly
‘You old romantic’ she teased. ‘You were right though’ she said after a while ‘sometimes it’s about other people – letting them know that we’re committed to each other. In my heart we’re together’ He squeezed her tight
‘Yes, so we can have a very simple wedding – a registry office perhaps’
‘That’s fine by me’ she said, and suddenly groaned ‘Speaking of other people, my mother would never speak to me again if she wasn’t invited’
‘Well then, why don’t we get married in Guernsey with your parents there. Is there anyone else you’d like to include?’
‘How about your foster parents?’ She asked, looking up at him
‘Not necessary’ he said ‘We’re on good terms, but not so close that they’d be offended not to be invited.’
‘Okay, how about still having a wedding reception so we include our friends and nobody feels left out or offended?’ Sophia’s voice was slowing as she became sleepy ‘Just something informal, I’m not going to spend hours picking out napkins and tasting cake. In fact, let’s not even call it a reception – it can be a wedding celebration’ She yawned widely and snuggled in tighter
‘If you’re happy, I’m happy’ Bastien said, but there was no answer. Sophia was fast asleep.
24 notes · View notes
szopenhauer · 4 years
Text
When was the last time you cried and what was the reason?: family issues
Do you believe in ghosts?: maybe
If you could live on the moon, would you?: almost all of it belongs to Tom Cruise so no 
What is your favorite time in history to learn about?: I just like many interesting history facts in general
When is the last time you felt discriminated against because of your gender?: not sure which situation was last
What race are you?: caucasian, white, european, polish, slavic
What is your favorite sex position?: I’m not into sex tbh Have you ever lost your SO to another person?: yup
Have you ever had a thing for a friend’s parent?: no
Have you ever believed in Santa Clause? from what I remember
Have you ever thought you were getting a surprise party, but you really weren’t? nah and I don’t like surprises so I’m glad I never really had a party like this
Have you ever forgotten someone’s birthday? I suck with dates
Has a friend looked bad in a profile picture and you didn’t tell her? it was my opinion but if they liked their pic then it’s their problem
Does it take forever for your internet to load websites? sometimes
Have you ever pretended to listen to someone but you really weren’t? yeah :x
Are you a bad driver, or do you know someone that is? I know some that are bad yet say they’re oh so awesome at it ugh!
Have you seen the animated movies Tarzan? sure
Have you actually called 911 for an actual emergency? If so, what was the emergency? not me but my parents
Do you sleep in the living room a lot? I never do
Did you enjoy watching The Flintstone’s growing up? yep
Do you wish you were born in a different year? kinda wish I was born after war and die before 2020 or even live in another time period 
What do you buy more: Movies or candy? neither
Did you used to eat chapstick when you were younger? ewww, noooo, not even toothpaste
What made you pick up the last book you started reading? I was watching a movie and heard that book has a different ending so I had to see for myself Have you received any bad or troubling news lately? shitload When was the last time you were relieved about something? I wish I was... What about your life concerns you the most? my health related issues mostly but also money and fam, love life, religion etc. Is there a common thing most people seem to do without trouble, but it scares you (talking on the phone, driving, interviews, etc)? When was the last time you had to do one of these kinds of things? there are, recently
Describe a time when you were there for a friend? were there in person? When was the last time you went somewhere for the first time? days or weeks ago What is a situation that makes you feel especially confident? umm... Hypothetically and generally speaking, how would you go about breaking up with someone? Is there anything you would make sure to say, or perhaps not say? depends Would you say you’re easy or difficult to offend? I guess I’m easily offended Is there a belief you have that most others around you don’t have? Do you share this belief with others, or do you tend to keep it to yourself?  sure, might talk about it if asked and in the mood  If you’ve moved out from home, what was the scariest thing about it? What was/is your favorite thing about it? I didn’t move out yet but there are dark scenarios I imagine that could happen and they concern me What are your thoughts on “forgiving” murderers or rapists? Do you think it’s even possible to forgive these people? I wouldn’t forgive a rapist but particular murders can be justified If you could learn about anything without the stress of grades or cost, what kind of classes would you take? who cares about grades and cost when you have no possibility/talent/ability anyway?... Last item of clothing you purchased - do you wear it often? didn’t wear it yet Has anything made you feel nostalgic lately? lots What was the last chore you completed? I just helped mom around kitchen and bathroom - przynieś/podaj itp.
Which of the Seven Deadly Sins do you commit the most? sloth?
Has anyone ever told you that you’re incapable of whispering? nope, my mom is incapable, she whispers louder than when she’s normally talking to someone
Who was the best kisser you’ve ever dated? I’ve only kissed one person in my entire life
When was the last time you watched a YouTube video? yesterday
this one
and I plan on doing smth similar
Do you personally think Wikipedia is a reliable source? one of the most reliable sources that are available for free
When you were a child, did you ever want to become a wizard/witch? meh
Do you want to repaint your walls? I prefer to move out 
Would you rather have hardwood floors or carpet? hardwood
Who would you say is the most selfish person you know? majority of society
Have you ever made out in a movie theater before? waste of the movie
How old were you when you got to go on your first date? dunno what I can count as one
Would you call your parents over-protective or under-protective? weirdly protective
Did your parents ever let you play in the pits of those multicolored balls? never had a chance to
Has anyone ever called you a good kisser before? I had my moment
Have any of your siblings ever had a crush on your significant other? she’s into men so...
Do you know someone who cares about themselves more than their child? it seems that most of parents act this way
What’s your favorite hairstyle you’ve had so far? hmm...
How many dogs do you have, if any at all? 1
Do you think biting is weird or sexy? biting hard is very dangerous and I’m not into being bitten but I might/can bite a little
Would you rather be called hot or beautiful? neither but I'll “believe” slightly more in being beautiful than hot I think
Have you ever had a pet turtle before? yep
Do you still sleep with your parents when you’re scared sometimes? just once I had a bad night and my dad was working overnight so I went to my mom’s bed but then I left in the middle of the night anyway as she was snoring, not that it usually bothers me 
Have you ever met someone with two different color eyes? saw pics on the internet only
How many surveys on average would you say you’ve done in your lifetime? shitload
Do you enjoy going school shopping? tiny bit as I enjoy shopping in general?
Do you think Pug dogs are adorable or just plain ugly? adorable
Have you ever met someone who completely resembled their pet? lookalikes
Has anyone ever knitted you something before? sure
Do you think there is a soulmate out there for everyone? then why some ppl die single?...
Do you like short or long surveys the best? it’s not about length, I need interesting questions
Have you ever bought fake money and tried to make it pass for real? I didn’t try to make it pas for real wtf
Are your siblings nice the majority of the time? *rolling my eyes*
How many uncles do you have? don’t know nor care as they don’t give a shit about me
Do you freak out when a thunderstorm comes along? nah, sometimes I feel physically bad because of it tho
How often do you shower? basically everyday
What is the absolute worst thing about high school? from my personal experience - stress
How many sodas do you usually drink in one day? I don’t drink soda for years
Have you ever met an annorexic pregnant woman? woah I can’t imagine that
Have you ever simply looked at someone & could tell they were homosexual? oh well...
Do you have the ability to read someone without even knowing them? sometimes
Would you rather eat or sleep? sleep
Are you one of those die hard Twilight or Harry Potter fans? am not, especially Twilight - I didn’t read/watch it because it sounds awful
Have you ever cried while watching a movie trailor? yes 
Have you ever learned that someone had lied to you all along? sadly
When was the last time you had a physical injury? this ending week
Have you ever wanted to be a lawyer? not really
Have you ever had to bail someone out of jail before? nope
Is there anyone in your imediate family who was adopted? no
Do you know anyone who doesn’t have any common sense? I meet many ppl like this often on the streets or online
Do you think you look anything like your parents? I know I do
Who is the skinniest person you know? Is it because of a disease? when it comes to look or weight? disease though
Is this year the best one you’ve had so far? r u joking?...
What color is your significant other’s hair? natural or dye? XD
Are you ashamed of anyone in your family? yeah The best Christmas gift you ever gotten? The sims 2 as I dreamed of it and didn’t expect my poor parents will afford and give it to me ever, I was so moved that I cried and my sister was jealous and angry 
Who is your favorite actor or actress? can’t decide
What is cuter: kisses on the forehead of the cheek? I don’t consider them cute when I receive them but kind of awkward actually but giving them is a different story
Do you believe in evolution or creation? smth in between, it’s complicated 
What group would you say you’d normally fit into the most? I feel that I wouldn’t really fit any
Are you better at drawing things or painting? drawing
Have either of your parents ever called you a failure before? I am a failure
How long have you been on the computer right now? too long, about 6 hours Name three black things that you can see? celphone, pendrive, necklace would you perfer to do the dishes or hang washing/laundry? dishes
2 notes · View notes
zecretsanta · 4 years
Text
Fic: Scavenging
To: @gaulemtypefemale-dm-l-016​
From: @electric016
Merry Christmas, gaulemtypefemale-dm-l-016! Tenmyouji and Quark are my faves, so I’m always excited for an excuse to write about them! This fic sort of wandered off in a weird direction, but hopefully it’s all still in character and more importantly I hope you like it!
Ao3 Link
It had been about four months since the end of the Nonary Game and life with the Tenmyoujis had finally returned to normal. Even after the excitement of the moon and a second Nonary Game, there were still chores to be done and scrap to scavenge.
“Quark!” Tenmyouji called out, “Are you up yet? We need to get going.”
“Coming, grandpa!” came  the disgruntled and tired voice behind his grandson’s door.
“You’re going to miss breakfast!” Tenmyouji called again, cracking a couple of eggs into the frying pan.
“I’m coming!” 
Tenmyoji smirked to himself, knowing that before long he’d have a teenager to contend with. The thought was simultaneously amusing and terrifying as hell. 
The door to Quark’s bedroom creaked open. The boy emerged mostly dressed. He wore a khaki pair of shorts and a t-shirt. His arm was in one sleeve of a jacket.
“Finally. I thought I was going to have to eat all of this by myself.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I don’t know, I’m feeling pretty peckish.”
Quark slumped into a chair by the kitchen table, leaning his head in his arms and muttered something in audible.
“What was that?”
“I’m going to eat them!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Tenmyouji placed a plate of eggs and toast and beans before his grandson. He knew he’d perk up a bit once he’d had some food. Mornings had always been a bit of a struggle with the boy, and Tenmyouji had a sneaking suspicion they’d only get worse the closer they got to Quark’s teenage years.
He joined his grandson at the table with a matching plate of food and a hot drink he’d like to say was coffee, in that it was dark and brown and bitter, but was actually a rather horrible root tea. He did enjoy the warmth and habit of it though.
“Where are we going today?” Quark asked, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth.
Tenmyouji put his fork down. “Well, I was thinking of maybe trying something different today,” he said slowly.
“Yeah?” Quark asked, looking curious.
Tenmyouji nodded. “I’ve been thinking. I’m not getting any younger and I might like to start thinking about retirement. Now don’t give me that face, nothing to get worried about. I’m just thinking an extra day off or two every week might be nice.”
“What does that mean?” Quark inquired, studying his grandpa incredulously.
“Well, what do you say you go out by yourself today? No supervision. I won’t be breathing down your neck or micromanaging what you find. I trust you.” 
“What? Really?” “Sure! You’ve been at this for how many years now? I think it’s time for a promotion.”
Quark immediately perked up--it was as if his sleepiness were totally forgotten. “So where should I go?”
“Hmmm.” Tenmyouji took a swig of his tea. “Where would you suggest going if you were in charge?”
“Well.” Quark looked thoughtful, scratching the back of his neck as he thought. “There’s that old food processing plant in the next town over we saw last time we were there. I could start there.”
“Yes, I suppose you could. It’s an awful long walk though.”
“What? Aren’t you going to give me a ride?”
“Nope. I’m going to be enjoying my day off here.”
“Can I drive the truck then?” Quark asked eagerly.
“How are you going to push the pedals and steer at the same time? Nice try, kiddo. Maybe once you’ve got a bit more height on you.”
“Aww. So I guess somewhere I can walk to, huh?”
“Unless you’re planning on hitchhiking.” Quark opened his mouth. “I’m kidding. You’re absolutely not hitchhiking.”
“Well. In that case, there’s that old abandoned radio station. That might be a good spot to start with.”
“That’s not a bad idea at all.” Tenmyouji rubbed his chin. “I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone else having gone through it. I think that’d be a good place to start.”
After cleaning up breakfast and feeding the chickens, Quark got packed up to go out on his mission. 
He looked a little as if he were about to set off for school, and it gave Tenmyouji a weird sense of misplaced nostalgia. 
“Alright, you got everything you need?”
“Yes, Grandpa!” 
“You got your lunch?”
“In my pack.”
��Radio transmitter?”
“Over and out,” Quark said pulling the radio out of his pocket and speaking directly into it.
“Okay. I think you’re set. If you run into any trouble, be sure to give me a call. Or you can give Red or Marco a call if they’re in range. But don’t bug them unless you need to.” 
“Okay. What are you going to do today?”
“Hmm. Well I might drop off a loaf of bread with Clover and Alice and see how they’re doing. But mostly I think I’m going to catch up on some reading.”
“Sounds good! Tell them I said hi!”
“Will do, kiddo. Take care now.”
“Bye, Grandpa! See you later!”
--
Quark set out with a spring in his step. It was a good feeling, knowing his grandpa trusted him enough to send him out to work by himself, and quark was confident he’d be perfectly fine by himself. Really it wasn’t too much different than usual. Usually they’d travel together to a scavenging location, and then split up. They’d meet up for lunch and then go back to scavenging.
Quark enjoyed scavenging with his grandpa--well at least when he wasn’t getting in trouble for messing around. He liked when Tenmyouji found something particularly interesting or unique, he would call Quark over and explain exactly what it was and how it worked and how it could be used to turn a profit. 
The novelty of striking out on his own was still fresh; however, so he was really looking forward to being totally in control.
The abandoned radio station was only about a 45-minute walk from their home. Three of the station’s call sign remained: K LV.  Quark decided it must have been a Q. Ever since he was a kid, he always enjoyed recognizing his initial on buildings and signage. Q for Quark.
Breaking in was fairly easy. It seemed a lot of offices and commercial buildings weren’t secured during the radical-6 outbreak. They found so many that were simply left unlocked and ready to be explored.
Tenmyouji had trained Quark well and he knew the first thing he had to do was check for signs that the building might not be safe to enter. But this one seemed to be structurally sound.
Quark pulled his lantern from his backpack and switched it on, illuminating the hallway before him. The halls were dark and musty, dust floated up through the air as he entered. An ancient fire escape map on the wall gave him his bearings, outlining where there server rooms were and where he was likely to find the sound equipment. 
He was aware from a theoretical standpoint that fear of the dark was pretty common, and he liked to tell himself that he wasn’t afraid of the dark at all. Why would someone who spent their life exploring dark rooms and who found a thrill in discovering the most remote nooks and crannies be afraid? The truth of course was that he still felt a little flutter of anxiety whenever he entered a new room.
Steeling himself, he turned the  handle to the recording room. 
“Huh,” Quark said aloud to himself, filling the hallway with the sound of his voice. “Won’t budge.” He turned the handle again and shoved his shoulder against the door. But still it remained stuck.
“Guess this calls for a little back up.” 
He reached into his backpack and pulled out a small crowbar. Wedging it between the door and frame, he leaned his weight against the metal. 
Finally the door gave way and there was a whoosh of air as the seal on the room was broken and the pressure between rooms equalized. 
He stood in the doorway, an apprehensive chill going up his spine and shone his lantern into the room. The light bounced off the large glass window in front of the control panel. There was a work chair turned slightly towards him and it gave him a start when he realized it held the remains of a slumped skeleton.
Quark was used to seeing skeletons. He knew many of them were victims of the radical-6 outbreak. He knew it was harder for his grandpa to see the skeletons and be reminded of what it was like to live through the fall of humanity. For Quark they were relics of a bygone age. Sad, but no more sad than a mummy in a museum. They did startle him every now and again though. 
“Sorry to bother you,” Quark addressed the skeleton. “I hope you don’t mind, I’m just coming in to collect some parts.” His grandpa had taught him that the line between life and death is thin. Sometimes the only thing that decided what side you were on was chance. It was important to always be respectful of the dead.
“This is a pretty interesting set up you have here,” Quark told the skeleton, setting his lantern on the ground, and pulling out an additional flashlight from his bag. “I have a small radio, but it’s nowhere near as powerful as what you had going on here. I mostly just use it for calling people. Grandpa said you used to play music from here all across the city. We’re not allowed to do that anymore.” Quark affected a mocking adult voice, “‘Public radio stations are for official use only.’ They only play boring things like news and public service announcements. I think it’d be much cooler if they played music.”
Quark situated himself on the floor beside a control panel and pulled off the metal grating. “Ah yeah, I should be able to get a lot of good stuff from this. Thanks for keeping an eye on it for me.”
As Quark got to work he continued chatting to the remains in the chair, “You know, this is my first job out all by myself? Usually I travel with my grandpa. But he trusted me to go out by myself this time.”  He glanced over to the skeleton. “I know he’s not telling me exactly what happened on the moon--oh yeah! I went to the moon recently. 
“It’s a bit of a long story. Originally Grandpa thought we were going to meet an old friend of his, so we got all dressed up and everything, but then it turned out it was this weird game. It was actually kind of scary, but I didn’t want anyone to think I was a baby.”
He was silent for a moment, working through a tangle of wires. “You know, I think something bad might have happened to me up there. Apparently we were all infected with radical-6, and Grandpa said it was fine, but I don’t know. I was asleep for a lot of what happened. I think maybe it made me sicker than he wants me to know.”
Quark was quiet again. Working in the dark room by the light of his lantern and flashlight. 
“Actually, I think he’s still worried about me,” Quark confided to the skeleton. “He’s been a little more overprotective, and it’s very nice of him, but to be honest it’s been a little annoying. I know he feels guilty about the whole thing, but I wish he wouldn’t. I don’t remember anything bad happening, so it’s all fine, right?”
The skeleton didn’t respond, but Quark said, “I know, I should probably be telling him this, huh?”
Still no response from the skeleton.  
“Yeah, you’re right. But Grandpa can be so awkward about feelings.” Quark sighed.
“No, you’re right, it’s still better to say something. But it’s still a good sign that he’s sending me out on my own, isn't it? Maybe it means he’s getting over it.”
Quark sat back. “Okay well I think I’m good with everything here for now. Maybe I’ll come back on my day off, but I want to have a look at some of the other rooms while I’m here. Thank you for your company!”
Quark zipped up his bag and hauled it back onto his back. He briefly placed his hands together in a quick gesture of prayer for the skeleton, then headed on to the next room. 
--
When Quark got home that evening his pack was full of useful wires and connectors. He was feeling pretty satisfied with his haul. 
“Grandpa! I’m home!”
“Hey! Welcome back! How’d you do?”
“Really great! I found so much stuff! Do you want to take a look?”
“Hmmm. No, I think I’m good. How about tomorrow we go into town and you can try your hand at bartering? I’ll come along as your back-up of course. But I trust you. I know you did well.” He ruffled his grandson’s hair. 
“Sounds good! And then do you want to go back to the radio station the day after?”
“I think maybe that day we can head out to the food processing facility. You can save the radio station for my days off.”
“Okay!”
“Alright, now go wash up and you can help me cook dinner.”
“Hey, Grandpa?”
“Hm?”
“I just wanted to say, thanks for trusting me to go out on my own. I know you’re really worried about me, especially after the Nonary Game, but I really am fine.”
“What’s this all of a sudden?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to say thank you.” He gave his grandpa a quick hug, then darted off to the bathroom to wash up.
Tenmyouji was bemused, but relieved. After the Nonary Game he’d been so worried that Quark would have come away from the experience clingy and paranoid. And truth be told--that was probably just a projection of his own feelings. Quark seemed fairly unfazed by the whole situation having been asleep for the most terrifying portions of it. 
He was glad Quark seemed so thrilled with having this new opportunity for independence. Listening to Quark babble away about the adventures of his day, it sounded like he was happy to have the time to himself. And in his whole long life, there was only one truth that he had found to be absolute. When Quark was happy, he was happy.
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wolfpawn · 4 years
Text
I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 62
Chapter Summary - Danielle and Tom are getting into a rhythm in their domestic life. Effectively just a chapter for the sake of smut, nothing else!
Previous Chapter
Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)
Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.
authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously
tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @damalseer​ @hiddlesbitch1​ @winterisakiller​ @fairlightswiftly​ @salempoe​ @lys-syl @youcantcatchafallingstar
If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.
In two days, Tom almost could not remember not living with Danielle, her time being at the house before Christmas was not as smooth as he had wanted it to be, seeing as they rarely saw one another, her need to get her paperwork done and then her added work, she seemed to only emerge from the living room to go to the bathroom and sleep, but even with her studying and him learning lines for Early Man, they seemed more in-sync on their return. As well as getting their work done, they were eating meals together, getting house chores done, both taking their share and enjoying talking at length as they always had, but with something more behind it, something Tom could not explain, but adored.
“Hey, handsome.” He turned to see Danielle smiling behind him. “Everything alright?”
“Perfect.” He grinned as she walked over and put her cup in the sink. “My day for washing up I assume?”
“Well, I am doing the laundry.” She smirked, Tom opened his mouth to say something, “We are not paying a laundrette to wash our clothes, it is one thing getting your suits done, but t-shirts and pants, not a hope.” She argued. “The poor washing machine finally feels like it has a purpose in its appliance life.”
Tom chuckled. “Fair enough, I wouldn’t want it to feel as though it is unappreciated, what with it being a non-sentient appliance.”
“You say that now, but wait until the machines take over the world.”
“You watch too many sci-fi movies,” Tom gently brushed her hair from her neck and kissed her shoulder. “You know, we haven’t…”
“Is your mind always on sex?” Danielle laughed fondly as she kissed him. “I mean, we are here only two days, at our ages, sex like horny teens is not exactly the norm.”
“First of all, are you trying to imply I am old?” Tom growled, “And secondly. I refuse to apologise for finding sex with you something I enjoy and wish to do as often as you are willing.” His face fell slightly. “I’m not pressuring you, am I?”
Danielle laughed. “I would have kneed you in the balls by now if you were.” She swore. “I love our sex, I do, I just…”She bit her lip. “I read not too long ago that by my age, let alone yours, it is normal to have sex about once a week, but I sort of...I don’t want you to think I am weird liking it more often.”
“Wait, are you telling me the reason we both have been holding back is to not frighten the other with our slightly higher than average sex drives?” Tom asked.
“I think so, but to be honest, I am frightened of my sex drive, I mean, I didn’t have anyone for more than half a decade, and with Paul, I never did everything, but with you, I just feel so…” She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him.
Though he had lines to rehearse and she had study to get done, Tom grabbed Danielle by the ass and hoisted her onto the kitchen counter top, “You owe me that little gift that you gave me the receipt for, if you recall.”
“Now?”
“Not now, perhaps soon, now I just want to ravish my sexy girlfriend for admitting that I turn her on.”
“Very much so.” Danielle nodded as she started toying with his shirt. When he began lifting up her jumper she pulled back slightly. “In the kitchen?”
“By the time I am on the promotion tour for Skull Island, I plan on having had you in every room in the house.” He promised as he leant in to kiss her again. Danielle’s reaction was to gently nip his lower lip and tug on it for a moment before looking up at him as he still was a few inches taller than her. “Elle, I swear, you will be the fucking death of me.”
“I can think of no better way to go.” She grinned in return. “By the way, Tom?”
“Mmhmm.”
“I need to wash those pants.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, and the boxers, shirt, well, everything really.”
“I best get them off me so.”
“Yes, you better.”
Tom chuckled as he began to undress in front of her. “Well, what about your clothes?”
“Mine are clean.” She winked back with a cheeky smile.
“No, they’re not.”
Danielle looked down confused. “Yes, they are.”
Grinning wickedly, Tom walked over to a cupboard and pulled out some salad dressing before opening it and flicking some onto her clothes. “I beg to differ.”
“TOM!” She looked down in disbelief, “Are you fucking serious?” Rather than her features being filled with anger to match her words, Danielle was laughing at him, “You prick.”
“I’ll show you a prick, come on, off with them.” He grinned, walking over to her and removing her t-shirt before quickly making his way to the button of her jeans. “I said before that I wasn’t like this with anyone else in a really long time Elle, I mean it, it’s just you do this to me,” he stated as he gently brushed his nose over hers, his lips finding their way to hers as he placed her arms around his shoulders before hoisting her up and taking off her jeans and panties at the same time, when he placed her back on the counter, she gasped slightly at the feel of the cold surface against her bare ass before his hands made their way to her bra. “I do not think this particular bra and I have been acquainted before, have we?” He asked at the silk material in his hands.
“I don’t believe you have.” Danielle grinned. “Have you been keeping tabs on my underwear choices?”
“What have I told you of my adoration of your breasts, I recall all the terrible contraptions that have come between me and them that I have been shown.” Danielle could not control the snigger she gave. “Something funny?”
“You love being a twat some days, don’t you?” She grinned, before pulling him to her again. “Why don’t you get better acquainted with it then,” She whispered sultrily as she brushed her lips against his ear.
“Yes, Ma’am,” He grinned wickedly as he pulled the material under her breasts and gently used his thumbs to brush over her nipples. “”Is that to your liking.”
“You are a fucking tease.” She growled back, loving it when he took one into his mouth. “Fuck, Tom!”
“Hmm, I think you like that.”
“You know I do.”
“More?”
“Please.” Tom set about gently nipping and suckling on each of her breasts in turn before finally sliding a hand down to her core, which, to his delight, displayed just how much she was loving his actions. “I think you need more.”
“Mmhmm.” Danielle nodded frantically as her eyes were closed and her lips both gripped between her teeth as she attempted to remain silent.
“Don’t you want more?” He asked, his tone wicked as he teased her by rubbing his index finger’s knuckle around the little nerves on the exterior of her body. “Well?”
“Tom,” His name was equal parts a plea and a warning.
“Well, if you’re not interested.” He pulled back leading Danielle’s eyes to fly open and for her to glare at him in shock. “I’m sorry, is there something you want?” He grinned wickedly.
“Please?”
“Please what my darling?”
“Please Tom.”
“Please what?” He repeated. Frustrated, Danielle got off the counter and started to pick up her clothes. “Now, where do you think you are going?” His voice was threatening, more akin to Thomas Sharpe than Thomas Hiddleston in its tone.
“If you won’t give me what I want,” she growled through clenched teeth, but the glint in her eye informed him she was doing it with the sole purpose of getting him as worked up as she was.
Tom, knowing it was just her teasing, took her ruined clothes and tossed them towards the utility room. “We’re not done.”
“Really?” Danielle challenged with a brow raised, “Says who?”
“You. You are so ready for me, you seem to have a little glistening on your thighs.” Looking down, Danielle realised that it was true, Tom had riled her up enough that she had become so wet it was starting to be apparent both inside her body and outside of it. “I cannot possibly leave you like that, can I?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I will have to rectify it immediately, so I suggest, Ms Hughes, that you get comfortable.” Looking at him for a moment, she pursed her lips and turned around, going on her tip-toes so to rub her ass against his groin, his cock jolting slightly at the feel of her flesh against it. Looking around slyly, she waited for his next move. “You little minx.” Tom chuckled as he leant her forward. “Hands on the counter,” He ordered before taking hold of himself and directing himself to her damp opening. “Are you sure you want it like this?” He double checked, having never done such a position with her before.
“Fuck, Tom, don’t you dare continue to tease me now.” She barked, leaning back slightly so to get the head into her, “Yes.” It came out more as a hiss, but seeing that it was what she wanted, Tom pushed forward until he was fully seated within her, Danielle giving a lustful moan as he did. When he paused for a moment, she turned her head to look at him, only to see him staring down at her, somewhat shocked. “What?”
“You are actually a little minx behind it all, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“You...I never thought…”
“Well you thought wrong, now fuck me,” she ordered. As though snapping out of his little momentary daze, Tom took hold of her hips and slowly pulled back before pressing forward again, slowly increasing his pace every time he did so, noticing how every time he bottomed out, Danielle seemed to become even wetter and moan more, all too soon, the room was only filled with the wet sound of skin slapping against skin and their moans of pleasure. “Fuck yes.”
Tom leant his body over hers and slid one hand to her breast while the other gripped the counter next to hers, his longer torso meant that he was able to kiss and bite along her neck before nipping the shell of her ear. “You like this, darling?”
“Fuck yes,” Danielle had to concentrate to even speak, he was rubbing her insides perfectly with each stroke, every time he moved, he rubbed over the pleasure spot that allowed her to get closer and closer to her end. “Fuck, Tom, please.”
Tom’s reaction was to nip her ear and slide his hand that had been teasing her breast down to her core to help her to her peak. “Yes, so close Elle, so fucking good.” With the added stimulation, Danielle took only moments to completely lose herself to her orgasm, gasping and moaning Tom’s name as her body shook, allowing Tom to hasten his movements before coming to his own completion, grunting as he did so and flooding her already drenched core. “Fuck, that was incredible.” He gasped out between deep breaths as they came down from their highs. “More of that.”
“Definitely.” Danielle grinned as she turned back towards him.
“How do you…?”
Danielle stopped smiling for a moment and turned her head as much as she could with him still leaning over her, “I have not done it like that before if that’s what you’re asking, for the record, women talk and magazines have suggestions.”
“I wasn’t…” Tom thought through his words carefully. “I just wanted to know.”
“Well, I was reading a Cosmo on set one day because I was bored and it was raining and I was seeking shelter in the make-up trailer and read it there, I thought it sounded fun and well, you are my boyfriend, so...” Danielle stated as finally, Tom’s length slipped from her body, and knowing it would soon be followed by their combined juices, she rushed to the utility room, grabbing her ruined clothes on the way.
“Elle,” Tom rushed over to the door, “I’m sorry, I wasn't trying to imply anything.”
She opened the door and popped her head around. “I know.”
“Then why did you run into the utility room?”
“Because of something I don’t want to discuss.” She replied as she closed the door over slightly again.
“Elle, I…”
“Okay, you want to know why Tom, because right now, your cum is trickling down my leg and I don’t know about you, but that is not something I believe should be trailed around the kitchen.” She answered sharply.
“Fair enough,” Tom conceded. “Do you...eh, do you need some kitchen towel?”
“Seriously, you are freaked out by that? It’s your semen.”
“I just never…”
“Of course not, you’re male.” Danielle laughed as she came back into view with clean clothes on and a shirt and pants belonging to Tom. “Now give me your other clothes.”
“Right.” Tom turned around and did as requested. “So, women's magazines have that in them?”
“Yes,” Danielle laughed. “What, you think it’s all makeup tutorials? They go through different positions and pros and cons, though they should add that one isn’t great for people with over a height difference of six inches, I won’t be able to tiptoe for a day or two.”
“I had to squat slightly,” Tom admitted. “But for the record, that was incredible.”
“Yes, we need more of that. By the way, I thought I heard your phone going off while we were otherwise occupied.”
Tom frowned, having heard nothing, but walked over to his phone. “It’s Luke, he wants to know if we are still going tomorrow.” He looked at Danielle for her response. “Are you up for it?”
“Didn’t I just show you, I’m up for most anything?” she winked playfully as she took the clothes into the utility room, grinning, Tom texted his friend back, confirming them for the party.
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sleepyfan-blog · 5 years
Note
The Angst Prompt- 2. DreamSwap BlueXCross
Fandom: Undertale AU
Characters and pairing: DS Cross, DS Blue, Crueswap
Warnings: cursing
Word count: 1,513
Summary: Cross waits and worries for his friends to show. Blue ends up beating them home.
Cross lingered for a moment as he waited with increasing anxiousness for his best friends to come by. They had promised to come see him today, despite the fact that they really didn’t like Blue. Part of him wondered if something happened to them, as nightmare was being pursued as relentlessly has ever by the head of Justice Reigns because the others magic cause people to feel unhappy feelings when he was around them. It wasn’t as if it was nightmares fault that his magic was this way, as he knew that his friend would rather not have such a curse. But that didn’t mean that he should die because of it.
He was… Painfully aware of the fact that Blue and his friends didn’t get along with one another whatsoever… But that they tried to set their differences aside in order to all hang out together. Cross had texted both Error and Nightmare, but neither of them had responded… And the monochromatic skeleton was trying to figure out if it would be weird if he tried to call them. He was probably just overthinking things again. Nightmare and Error had been living in the Omega Timeline for the most part since he’d gone to living with his boyfriend a couple of months ago - as JR seemed to have done a successful recruiting drive of sorts and there were dozens of the fuckers in every AU that Cross visited..
But not in the Outertale that Blue lived in - but it was a post-neutral run, and there weren’t many beings in this AU. Not alive, which made it kind of lonely but a pretty good place to hide out in… And given that Blue was often engaged in less-than fully legal stuff, that made sense. Cross paced the floor restlessly, doing his best not to stare at his phone for any potential hint of his friends texting him. Should he check the multiversal extra-net to see if they’d gotten captured by JR? Would dream announce that two of the most dangerous criminals had been captured, or would he wait until he was sure that he could execute them (the mad bastard) to reveal the information, leaving anyone who cared for them precious little time to try to rescue them before they died by his hand?
Cross had wandered into the kitchen - frantically washing the couple of dishes that he’d left to do later for something productive to do, setting them carefully on the drying rack when he heard someone walk up to the front door, and turn the handle. He sprinted for the front door, a hopeful grin on his face… Before it fell, his shoulders drooping a little as Blue stepped through the door “Oh… Hey Blue…” He greeted with a tired sigh.
Blue blinked a little, a hurt expression appearing on the shorter skeleton’s face as he wandered over to the other “Is there something wrong, love? You seem… Upset to see me. Did I do something wrong?”
“I… No. It’’s just… Nightmare and Error haven’t shown up today and… They promised that they would…” Cross explained with a sad sigh, hunching in on himself a little as he tried and failed to smile a little bit at his boyfriend, rubbing his face with a hand, trying to shake off the disappointment.
The other hummed a little and frowned at that, tilting his head a little and remarking lightly “That’s odd - I hope that they haven’t run into any trouble. A friend of mine mentioned that they heard some chatter about JR cornering one of their top ten hunted - but apart from Nightmare and Error, the only people who are hunted by that organization deserve it because they are awful beings.”
“I… I really hope that’s not true.” Cold dread clawed at his soul, and Cross shivered a little… Unless Nightmare and/or Error had decided to go on a supply run, it was unlikely that they could have gotten captured. As far as he knew, no one in JR had ever heard of the Omega Timeline or Core Frisk, much less had been given permission to visit. “How was your day today? Did you get all the stuff done that you wanted to?”
“Yes…In addition, I was able to swing by a monster-friendly grocery store on my way home, and was able to get some shopping done… And I have a surprise for you~!” Blue teased, a small grin appearing on his face as he pulled out a bar of dark chocolate out and held it up for Cross to see.
His eye lights widened before shrinking a little and he pretty much tackled the other - ever since JR changed the definition of chocolate, it had been incredibly difficult to find some good true chocolate in a majority of the multiverse “Gimme!” He tackled the other and frantically grabbed at the candy, pouting as it disappeared back into the other’s inventory.
“Nooo Cross! I won’t let you have the chocolate just yet. Help me put away the groceries and then I’ll give you the chocolate.” Blue teased, grinning as he smooched his boyfriend’s teeth.
Cross sniffled a little and looked away from the other, getting up with a huff and holding out a hand, surreptitiously wiping his face “I… Fine… Not like I wasn’t gonna help you if you gave me the chocolate first….”
“Why are you crying? Aren’t you happy being my lover?” Blue teased lightly, a small frown appearing on his face as he cupped the other’s cheeks with his hands, staring at the other seriously, though teasing the other a bit for being so dramatic… Unless Cross really was so upset about his errant friends?
“I don’t know anymore!” Cross wailed dramatically, flailing his arms a little, even as he leaned into the other’s touch “You deny me my precious chocolate, holding it hostage for chores! Woe is meeee…. Okay I’m done now. Thanks for putting up with me.”
Blue huffed a little and smiled as he pressed another kiss to the other’s teeth again, hugging him close “I more than put up with you, Cross. I love you. Even and especially when you’re being ridiculous. It’s endearing and entertaining.” Blue chuckled with a small smile, leaning into the other’s touch.
The monochromatic smiled softly and leaned into the other’s touch, yawning softly as he nuzzled into his touch “Hmm… I guess that we’ll put away the groceries now… I just… Wanna cuddle with you on the couch and eat chocolate… Buuut it’ll still need to be done.” Cross pouted, sighing a little as the two of them meandered over to the kitchen and put away the food. He was still worried for his friends, but Blue’s presence helped to chase away the loneliness a little.
There was an obnoxiously loud knock on the door just as Cross and Blue had settled on the couch to watch whatever was on the TV - mocking whatever was on the Official JR Channel was a favorite pastime of theirs. The monochromatic skeleton got up and opened the door, and was nearly run over by a grumpy and soaking wet Nightmare, followed closely by an equally soaked Error. “The fuck happened to you two?” Cross demanded, going to the closet and pulling out a couple of the emergency towels and handing them to his shivering friends.
“Went to get stuff for C!Frisk, got chased by a bunch of JR Mooks, and opened a portal to an AU in a blind panic. We then spent three hours frantically swimming in the middle of a gigantic fucking ocean being chased by swimming JR Mooks until Error figured out how to get here from there.” Nightmare explained, gratefully taking one of the towels and drying himself off as best as he could.
“Oh dear, you can borrow some dry clothes of ours if you want - I also have a heated blanket if you want to warm up a bit faster after that. Also there’s plenty of popcorn and chocolate… I could also put on some hot water for tea or coffee?” Blue responded, a worried expression appearing on his face as he stood up, but did not move closer, aware that neither of them liked him very much, but doing his best to be a generous host.
“… If we could borrow some of your clothes, that would be nice, Blue. Cross is just too damn tall. We’d both be swimming in his clothes.” Nightmare grumbled affectionately “… And a hot coffee sounds amazing… Thanks Blue.”
“I… I would like some golden flower tea, if you have some.” Error requested hesitantly “… And a spare change of clothes, please.”
Blue nodded, teleporting off and back, handing the clothes to Cross, who gave them to his two best friends. “The bathroom is in the same place it was when you stayed here, Error… If you remember where it is?”
“I… I do. Come on, Nightmare…” Error responded, his eye lights dimming a little as he guided the other there so that the two of them could change.
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