#while she's stuck raising his fucking child and he gets to be with his partner 24/7 like not even g-d could give you that much grace
Text
genuinely astounded goosemav shippers are like "carole would be 100% okay with her husband cheating on her with his best friend because he's realised he's a fag and loves maverick actually" like you actually hate women, genuinely
#cao posts#i cannot begin to tell you that she would not be OkayTM with the man she married and had a literal child with just deciding to be whatever#while she's stuck raising his fucking child and he gets to be with his partner 24/7 like not even g-d could give you that much grace#shoutout to partners by arcreactorblue on ao3 for making me feel insane like i cannot stand the normalisation and lionisation of cheating#especially not in the instances of realising youre exclusively gay or lesbian like just have the balls to break up first you freaks
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
speak on sadist arcade gannon 🗣️
I WILL SPEAK THANK YOU!
arcade is such a fun character. i’m going to start off with a little bit of how i view him, and then go into more of the original post!
arcade is often written as he portrays himself, asocial and boring. or worse, he’s made to be this anxious, unsure, annoying gay-man stereotype.
but arcade is smart, he’s witty, he enjoys snarky banter and cursing in latin. at the end of the day, arcade needs someone who can keep up with him. someone who can get those gears turning in his brain. arcade values knowledge like no other.
there’s always something to be learned, even with a low int. courier. (my original post was a joke about this, he’s a sadist and following around an idiot in a post apocalyptic wasteland would definitely scratch that itch.)
however, no source of intimacy in his day to day life turned into learning as much as he can. he enjoys books on topics that are redundant to the world he lives in, because it makes him feel important.
being a person of medicine, he knows his way around sharp objects, he’s used to cutting clothes, he’s able to perform basic first aid. (…more on this in a minute.) arcade knows his way around the human body.
arcade was an only child, raised around enclave remnants can only offer so much. and while he hates to use the word lonely (“alone and lonely are two very different things, thank you.” he’d say.) he is clearly starved.
for attention and touch, on a level that means something more to him. i think one of arcade’s strongest points is his friendship with julie, there’s no doubt in my mind he loves her, that he values their bond. but she can’t offer what he’s looking for in this regard, and that’s okay.
arcade craves connection. he deflects anytime the subject is himself, because to him there’s safety in isolation. he’s met “several good men” in his life, but none of them stuck around. for how much he craves that connection, he doesn’t know how to do it. showing versus telling. arcade is honeyed words, but faraway in his actions. until six.
and it’s not that he wants to hurt, or own his partner, no. arcade hates the idea that someone could “belong” to him, HOWEVER; the idea of consuming someone is… special. arcade wants his and his partner’s heart on a silver platter so they can dine together.
i’m going to go through two different scenarios, but each have their own flavour of dialogue.
"I've got more experience dealing with egregious injuries than you think. I could fucking rip you apart, and put you back together again. I could even make that hurt, if you wanted. Do you understand me?"
in this excerpt, as composed as arcade is, he’s frantic. perhaps six is a self sacrificing idiot, consistently putting himself in harms way because he wants to protect his friends, arcade specifically. to arcade, he might as well be doing the damage himself. six gets cut pushing arcade out of the way? arcade can feel the knife in his hand. in this version, i picture arcade’s sadism is more emotionally charged/based.
"I've got more experience dealing with iniquitous injuries than you think. I could rip you apart, and put you back together again. I could make it all hurt. Do you understand me?"
this is the same idea, but a completely different tone. this time he’s offering, most likely based on an observation he’s already made of six’s self sacrificing behaviour. six wants a brush of death? arcade can offer that without a (serious) risk.
the change from ‘egregious’ to ‘iniquitous’ tells that the injuries go from generally bad to morally wrong. both are things he’s adept in. medicine or sadism.
all this being said, some fun ideas to consider. (nsfw!)
i want an arcade gannon who will cut through six’s last pair of pants without any remorse, maybe even a low chuckle.
featherlight touches with a scalpel or the carving knife he uses for cacti. dragging it down their tummy, down to their thighs.
an arcade who has a mean backhand, who then takes six’s chin in his hand and gives his head a shake like he’s a bad puppy.
an arcade who has six sit in his lap for hours as he works, laughs when they cry about wanting more.
arcade who will bite, arcade who scratches his partner’s hips.
arcade who lets six sit under his desk, pressing his foot to six’s cock as they suck him off.
33 notes
·
View notes
Note
Elisabeth x Ricardo fic when 🙂↕️🙏🏽 /j
Unrequired love club meeting?
Elizabeth sat in the therapists office, she felt like fucking shit and looked like it too. Why couldn't Auron see that she was the better choice? A door slammed open beside her, a tall tanned man walked through he was grumbling about...Rook?
"Rook, oh my love why don't you fucking see that Auron is nothing compared to me??" Gripping his black hair tightly in fists Elizabeth glared at him. What did this fucking uncultured asshole just say about her one and only true love???
"Rook deserves to fucking die! Auron is the one that needs to see that their NOTHING!" Hissing out at the man across from her, he turned and gave a crazy look at her. Then laughed like she told the greatest joke ever, he wiped his tears then looked calmly at her.
"what did you just say?" Cold words thrown at her reminded her of Auron, pushing that aside she stood up and went toe to toe with this bastard.
"Rook is NOTHING! Auron is a fucking god compared to them don't you-" Tension in the Rook raise quickly as her words were cut off, but then a therapist and some body guards walked through the door.
"Please, Elizabeth and Ricardo, calm down." Softly spoken the therapist gestured to the seats, "Sit and let's discuss why both of you are here." The black haired man took a step to the therapist but a guard shot him a look. It gave the message of 'try it and see what will happen' so Ricardo stood down and went to the seat farthest from everyone. Sulking in the cornor.
Elizabeth just sat, not wanting to deal with the bod guards again, she tried to stab the therapist last week. Her arm still hurts from being handled roughly, if only Auron was here she'd feel better about all of this. The therapist thanked them and started their speech.
"You both are here because you tried to harm Auron and his partner Rook. As you know both are very deeply in love with each other. You need to come to terms, and accept that they will never love you back as you do them. This is one sided love." Both adults that were sitting started to cause a ruckus at those words. They had to win them over that's all!
"Auron, wanted you both dead. But out of the goodness of his heart had you only tortured. Correct?" Flinching both nodded at the therapists words. Elizabeth still feels the needles injected to her and Ricardo felt the phantom pain of getting his skull pounded into.
"Rook was the one to convince Auron to get you help. Since it seems you both have a record of having mental problems. I am here to help you, not harm you. Both will go on a journey together to heal and better yourselves." Elizabeth turned her head and locked eyes with Ricardo. Fuck she's going to be stuck with a stupid therapist and some man who could get a slut to sleep with him. Ricardo was thinking the same thing but thought Elizabeth was a stupid whore for wanting a man that does dangerous shit to own her.
"Now, lets begain with introductions! My name is classified, but you may call me May." Smiling to the two May waited for them to follow her lead. Rolling her eyes Elizabeth followed, so this could go quicker and she can go back to Auron.
"Hello, May and Ricardo. My name is Elizabeth." Huffing out the names and in her seat she slumped. Ricardo groaned as he though how stupid this was.
"Hi, May and Elizabeth. I'm Ricardo." Hissing out the woman's name he crossed his arms. May sighed in her head as she thought to herself 'This is going to be a long and eventful journey.' So she decided to do the second part of the healing.
"Let's make some arts and crafts! Also while telling each other our hobbies!" Snapping her fingers child proof things were brought into the room to do such activities.
#red rants#red answers#sparkling ruby's#I took this as a challenge ngl#will they fall for each other?#or be obsessed with Auron and Rook?
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Here's a pic of my Sona for reference and I'll try to draw up a Marty(my Morty OC) one soon: (commission by: (sorrel paws)
i am scared but i am desperate! Time to punch my anxiety into outer space! Fuck it I wanna rp! Rick and Mortty time! Any characters! I don't have a Rick OC but I have a Morty one I'd love to develop :D Love to use my insert! Every Rick ever my beloved! Oc's and other self inserts very welcome! Let's explore the multiverse together :)
i'd prefer to use pm/dms since it's all in one spot and easier to keep track of. Can rp on here or Discord.
Know that I'm working part time so answer times will vary but I have the next two days off so I'm very avaliable rn!
Feel free to just dm/pm if you're interested!
Morty Oc details below:
~Marty
~ Pronouns: He/ They Xe/Xem
Sexuality: Pansexual demiboy with more of an attraction to men
~Age: 20(present)
Family: Rick(dead) Summer(dead) Beth, Space Beth, Jerry, Uncle BirdPerson
Dimension: RK-977
Backstory: A normal Morty all things considered. Has a space grandpa that drives him nuts, goes on adventures, and ends up in a big stand off with the Intergalactic Feds. Things go wrong and people get hurt leaving him and the survivors of his family running throughout multiverse as wanted fugitives.
Family relationships:
Rick: There were ups and downs, bad nights because of alcohol and drugs, and some fucked up things here and there but Rick always put Marty first and has "died" numerous times for his sake. They didn't always see eye to eye on things but his love for Marty was never in doubt. Believes there's no one that can replace his Grandpa Rick.
Summer: A bitch of a sister but one hell of a partner. Marty and Summer were often tasked with taking care of one another on adventures as well as tag teaming. They fought on and off and generally kept a distance at school, Summer did her best to raise Marty despite the circumstances.
Jerry: He and Marty are talking and seeing one another occasionally. He got a divorce with Beth and has been living on his own sense. Stays in that shitty apartment taking odd jobs here and there while trying to make time for his kids. He still has some feelings for Beth but doesn't do anything about it since Beth seems to have moved on. He hopes that he can be a better father to his kids, and maybe even a friend to Beth.
Beth: Divorced Jerry awhile back and went to work taking care of the kids herself, Beth has been doing the best she can do. Jerry can't usually pay the child support so she's stuck working full time at the horse hospital. Tired, hurt, starting to get a drinking habit, and in fear of losing her kids love, she spends as much time with them as she can and leaves Rick to care for them when she can't. She's still processing the divorce and trying to figure out what she wants amidst the war.
Space Beth: A Beth that has been with the Resistance for years before meeting Marty, she ends up on the Smith families doorstep while laying low. despite being there for a short time, she quickly takes a liking to Beth and her family. She is the reason that they end up being pulled into the Feds line of sight in the first place. She's spent most of her life fighting and she continues you to with the addition of the Smiths.
Uncle BirdPerson/BP: Another Resistance member and one of the first to join in the efforts, Marty met BP through Space Beth. They started out on uneasy terms since they just crashed on some strangers couch for awhile to hide from the FEDs. Come to find out, he knew Marty's grandfather and was friends with him when they were younger. Deciding he's trustworthy, he adopts BP as an Uncle figure and frequents his house. BP ends up telling Marty everything he went through with his grandfather and grows close to him.
#IMMA KICK MY OWN ASS INTO GEAR#CAUSE I NEED TO FEED THE OBESSESION#BITES MY OWN ARM#rick and morty#rick and morty rp#oc x canon#morty x canon#morty x oc#oc x oc#looking for rp partner#looking for rick and morty rp partner#any rick and morty character#Marty#Marty oc
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Everybody digs a swingin' cat
After one of her performances, Tav gets propositioned by a wizard and when she denies, he turns her into an auburn cat. Now, Tav has to make her way home on all fours and get her friends to break the curse somehow.
Notes:
Karlach's and Wyll's faith is based on this fic.
To avoid confusion: In one of my other fanfics, Halsin and Tav had named the owlbear cup Naïlo, which means 'night breeze' in the Elven language.)
My thing with names and their meanings again:
Cletus: Greek, illustrious, called forth, invoked
Meticulus: malapropism of meticulous
The tavern party was in full swing. People were dancing around like crazy, individuals twirling in their partner's arms, beer flowing plentifully, and the drunken singing was well out of tune. Tav stood on top of the bar, playing her lute and singing a raunchy song.
"They're being an awful flirt,
looking up the lady's skirt.
Enjoying the view regally,
without a spark of decency.
Offering a dance, making her sway,
hoping for a tumble in the hay.
Don't you worry, hun,
all I want is a bit of fun.
Don't you worry, child,
all I want is to be a little wild.
Honey, cut me some slack,
tomorrow mornin' I'll be back."
Tav twirled around, striking a dramatic pose and got showered in applause - and some coins. She bowed deeply, winked at a tiefling, blew a kiss to a maid, and collected the gold. The tavern keeper offered her a drink for her efforts, but she declined politely, thus, she was handed a fresh bread roll instead. Tav sat down at the bar and happily munched on the free food.
"Can you sing some more?" one of the drunkards asked, hiccupping.
"Yeah, please, little lady," chimed his friend in. "You sound like an angel."
Tav laughed and nodded.
"Alright. Just for you, gentlemen."
She turned around on her chair and started to strum her lute again.
"Everybody wants to be a cat.
Drinking milk and taking naps,
that's where it's at, chaps.
That's why we wish for a life like that.
Everybody wants to be a cat.
Sunbathing on the roof
and that's the proof
why we want a life like that.
Everybody wants to be a cat.
Regularly catching mice
is the only paid price
to live a life like that."
The men howled with laughter and drunkenly handed her some more coins. Grinning, the bard stuck them in her pockets. She was in an excellent mood. She'd missed travelling around Faerûn and entertaining people for a living. It had been way too quiet and calm in Gale's home and in Waterdeep. Now, she was basking in the boisterous chaos around her. Again. Like in the old days. Tav was in her element, humming energetically while swinging her lute onto her back. She went back to devouring the bread and drank a tankard of water to help her strained voice. Suddenly, a man in expensive clothes and with slicked back, black hair leaned against the counter next to her.
"Hello, darling, how are you doing?"
"I'm fine, thanks," Tav replied.
"Your performance was exquisite and I'd like to invite you for dinner."
"That's nice, but I have to decline."
"Why? Is your partner waiting for you?"
"That's none of your business, mister."
The man looked at her, angrily.
"Am I not even allowed to ask a simple question without being treated rudely? I'm Cletus Meticulus, the greatest wizard of the Sword Coast and I deserve respect!"
Tav raised an eyebrow.
"Mhm."
Wizards were always so full of themselves, yikes.
"Oi! Leave the little lady alone!" shouted the drunk guy who had ask for another song. "Fuck off and bother someone else!"
Cletus was enraged, stammering unfinished sentences.
"Get out of my tavern, mate," sighed the tavern keeper. "No need to make a scene for nothin'."
"I mustn't be treated this way by peasants!" the wizard yelled, stepping away from the bar. "How dare you people treat a renowned scholar of the Arts this way!"
The entire tavern groaned and shouted insults at the wizards.
"You!" Cletus pointed at Tav furiously. "You humiliated me, you slut! You'll pay for this! Spreading your legs for everyone but me like a cat in heat!"
And with hasty arm movements and shouting, he hit Tav with a magic spell. She exploded in yellow light with a loud bang, blinding the rest of the people momentarily. When the light was gone, the wizard had disappeared. The tavern goers blinked in disbelief.
"The lil' lady's gone!" yelled the drunkard panicky, pointing at the heap of clothing and the lute on the floor.
An auburn cat wiggled its way free from underneath the clothes, meowing pathetically.
"What the fuck?" slurred the drunkard.
"Ah, shite!" groaned the tavern keeper.
Astarion popped his back with a groan and rubbed his tired eyes. He'd read for six hours straight in hopes of finding a solution to Karlach's problem. Of course, he, again, had found nothing and had only ended up with a blurred vision.
"The letters dance before my eyes. I need a break," he complained.
"Mhm," mumbled Gale who was still nose-deep in his tome.
Astarion walked over to pet Scratch and Naïlo. Suddenly, the animals turned their heads simultaneously and ran off.
"What the Hells?" grumbled the vampire spawn and followed them.
The dog and the owlbear stood at the front door.
"Do you guys need to pee?"
Just as Astarion wanted to shout for Gale to go for a walk with them, he heard the scratching noises on the wooden door. Furrowing his brows, the vampire spawn carefully opened it, mindful of the sunlight. Before the door was even halfway open, a cat dashed inside.
"Hey! No, no, no, get out!"
Astarion tried to catch the stray cat, but it hissed at him and weaselled its way into the living room.
"Gale!" yelled the vampire spawn annoyed, sprinting towards him.
"A cat! Oh, and what a lovely specimen you are."
Astarion rolled his eyes when he entered the room and saw the wizard with the strange cat in his arms. The latter was purring loudly and rubbing its head against Gale's chin. The wizard almost melted into a puddle.
"What a beautiful girl you are," he cooed while giving the cat a belly rub. "And so well-behaved."
"Uhm, hello? I'm sorry to disturb your bonding experience, but that's a stray," Astarion said with his lips pursed. "It doesn't belong here. Let's throw it out."
"No." Gale looked offended, holding the cat closer to his chest. "She's such a cutie and she's probably scared and hungry. We can't kick her out."
Astarion crossed his arms.
"What will Tara say when she's back, hm?"
"Well... we'll deal with it when she arrives," Gale muttered sheepishly, making the vampire spawn groan.
"What about Scratch and Naïlo? They don't like the stray."
As if to spite him, the mentioned animals scuttled over to Gale with a waging tail and a happy chirp. Astarion glowered.
"You traitors," he whispered.
"Don't fight. Be nice to our little guest, will you?" Gale said and put the cat down reluctantly.
The home intruder meowed multiple times as if talking to the pets, and then got a nose boop from both Scratch and Naïlo. Astarion was utterly confused and positively enraged.
"Is everyone in this house plotting against me?"
The auburn cat looked at him, dashed over and jumped into his arms. The vampire spawn grumbled disgruntled.
"You're a pesky little beast. You remind me of someone."
"We should give her a name," Gale announced excitedly, eyes full of joy.
Astarion hummed and scratched the cat's chin. It purred at him with closed eyes. A smile spread over the vampire spawn's face.
"How about Nag? Or Home Intruder?"
Gale looked more offended than the cat.
"Absolutely not! This beautiful individual deserves a wonderful name, like Scarlett or Ruby."
"What about Fleabag?"
"Astarion!"
"What?" The vampire spawn snickered. "I'm sure it doesn't mind."
"It's a she."
"If you say so."
Just to test the limits of Gale's - and the cat's - patience, Astarion lifted the animal up under its forelegs until its entire body was fully stretched out so that he could take a look between its legs.
"It is a girl. Bravo, Gale, I didn't know you’re so familiar with animals' genitals."
The addressed pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh and Astarion grinned. The cat stayed silent and still, just waiting for the next move. The vampire spawn cradled her against his chest, muttering: "You're a weird one, kitty. Don't you have any claws?"
The addressed meowed and rubbed her head against him with a purr.
"She's truly well-behaved," Gale agreed. "Maybe, she belongs to someone."
At that, the cat hissed.
"Or not," Astarion said. He hoisted the cat up and looked into her green-brown eyes, frowning. "Do you understand us?"
She meowed.
"Say yes."
She meowed again.
"Say no."
She hissed.
"Huh." Astarion looked at Gale. "Do you still have some of that potion left that lets us talk to animals?"
"Uhm, I don't think so. Why?"
"Something's strange about this cat and I want to ask her about it."
"Mrp?"
"Yes, I'm talking about you, Fleabag."
"Please, don't call her that. It's disrespectful."
"Eh, she doesn't mind. – You don't mind, right, Fleabag?"
The cat hissed.
"See? She doesn't like it," remarked Gale.
"A hiss means no," replied Astarion. "Don't you know that yet? Keep up, Gale."
The wizard sighed again and said: "I'll go looking for the potion."
He left the room while Astarion sat down and placed the cat before him. "So... I have questions."
"Meow."
"Alright. If you can understand me, that means you're much more intelligent than a regular cat?"
"Meow."
"Does that mean you're magically modified?"
"Hiss."
"Hm... are you... perhaps... cursed?"
"Meow!"
"Oh, shit, really?"
"Meow, meow!"
"Do we know you?"
"Meow!"
"Oh, that's not good," Astarion muttered, concerned. "Who are you? - That was a stupid question, apologies."
Astarion sighed deeply, but the cat tapped her paw against his knee and jumped up. She turned around, meowing at him, before dashing off. Astarion followed her curiously. The cat led him to the master bedroom and jumped up onto Tav's chest of drawers.
"What are you doing up there? The pets are not allowed in the bedroom and we won't make an exception because you're –" The vampire spawn gasped, his eyes widening in realisation and horror. "Tav?! Oh, Gods, is this you, darling?"
"Meooow!"
"Oh, fuck, oh, Gods... Gale! Gale!"
Astarion ran to the wizard's study. The latter popped his head out of a cabinet, visibly confused.
"What? Why are you shouting?"
"Tav! It's Tav!" the vampire spawn yelled in a panic, wildly pointing at the cat that had followed him.
"What?"
"Tav was cursed, it's her!"
"Meow!"
"Interesting..."
"No! Not interesting! Terrible!"
"I'm aware, Astarion, I'm aware. – Tav, come here."
The cat dashed over to the wizard who asked: "How did this happen?"
Growling, the cat glared at him.
"Ah, yes, apologies. The potion."
Gale took a swing from the bottle before handing it to the vampire spawn who took a big gulp hastily. The wizard turned towards the cat again.
"Tav?"
"Yes, it's me," sighed the auburn cat.
"I think I'm losing my mind," muttered Astarion and had to sit down. "What did you get yourself into, darling?"
"After one of my performances, a guy harassed me and when I declined his offer to eat dinner, he turned me into a cat."
"Hurt?" asked Naïlo, gently nudging her with his massive beak.
"No, it just feels weird."
"You smell sad, friend," said Scratch and whined unhappily.
"I'm alright, don't worry," Tav answered and rubbed her head against Scratch’s chest to calm him down. "Can you lift the curse, Gale?"
"Well... technically..."
"'Technically'? What do you mean 'technically'? You're the godsdamn Wizard of Waterdeep! What are you babbling about?" raged Astarion.
Gale looked sheepish as he explained: "It truly seems like a curse and not simply a polymorph spell, thus, it's more complicated to break it."
"Help?" asked Naïlo, looking excited.
"I don't know if you can help, but thank you for offering," answered Gale. "First, we need to figure out what type of curse it is."
"And how can we do that?" Astarion wanted to know.
"I need to study the structure of the Weave with which the spell was conjured. This way, I can find the anchor of it and unravel it like a ball of yarn."
"Play?" Naïlo chirped, jumping happily.
"I meant it metaphorically."
When Gale realised that the owlbear had no idea what that meant, he explained: "It's not a real ball of yarn, but an item used to symbolise something that can't be put into words."
"Words are hard," Naïlo nodded.
Astarion and Gale snickered.
"Yes, they are," agreed the wizard, petting the owlbear's head. "Now, let me work my magic."
He held his hands above Tav's head and closed his eyes to focus. Everyone stood very still. After a moment, Gale opened his eyes again.
"Uh-oh."
"You're not supposed to say 'uh-oh'."
"Apologies, Astarion, but my findings are not favourable. The curse can only be broken with the right trigger and the problem is –" Gale gritted his teeth angrily. "– I can't figure out what the trigger is."
Groaning loudly, the vampire spawn buried his face in his hands.
"Are you kidding me? Great, that's just great."
"I'm working on it," hissed the wizard, personally offended by Astarion's comment.
"I'm sure you'll figure this out," Tav told him, more confidently than she felt. "I trust you."
Gale smiled a bit.
"Thank you, dear."
"But what if you can't change back?" asked Scratch and whined with his tail between his legs. "I don't want you to smell sad anymore."
"Normal soon," hooted Naïlo.
"Hopefully," Astarion muttered. "It'll be devastating if our lover's stuck in the body of a cat."
Tav sighed, sinking her claws into the carpet.
"I'll find a cure," Gale promised and set back to work.
Eventually, the wizard fell asleep from exhaustion. Astarion draped a blanket over him before feeding Scratch, Naïlo, and Tav dinner. Then, he went on his nightly stroll to appease his hunger. The dog, the owlbear, and the cat scuttled back to Gale's study to keep him company. Tav curled into a ball at the wizard's chest and dozed off. When she awoke, elegant fingers were stroking her back and the smell of saltwater was in the air.
"Mrp?" she asked concerned.
"Apologies," sniffed Gale. "I'm just - I'll find a way to break the curse and if it’s the last thing I do. I'll do anything, I promise."
"Meow."
Tav scooted forwards to press her head under his chin and the wizard hid his face in her fluffy fur and kept crying.
"I'm so sorry I failed you so far."
"Meow!"
"I did. I really did."
The addressed purred and rubbed her head against his chin. Gale scooped her up into her arms, leaning his forehead against the top of her head.
"I love you so much," he whispered and kissed her nose.
With a loud 'poof', Gale suddenly held Tav in human form in his arms, and then dropped her into his lap because she was too heavy. The bard smiled at him.
"Hello, love. Thank you for saving me."
She kissed him passionately and the wizard's mind was still in overdrive. When they finally broke apart to breathe, he said: "We found the trigger, a classic. It's true love's kiss."
"Aww, how romantic," Tav giggled and gave him another peck.
"Seems like I missed something," Astarion remarked as he walked into the room.
"I'm back!" beamed the bard.
"I can see that, darling." The vampire spawn kneeled down to kiss her hungrily. "Thank the Gods, you're no longer a cat."
"Actually, it wasn't the Gods who saved me but Gale. The curse was broken by true love's kiss."
At that, Astarion doubled over and laughed until he was wheezing. Meanwhile, Gale just blushed furiously. Grinning, Tav wrapped her arms around him and murmured: "I love you too."
Scratch and Naïlo bounced around happily and Tav petted them until they had their fill.
"It's good to be back in my own body," she sighed and stretched out on the carpet. "Now, I have to go back to the tavern and get my stuff that the tavern owner so graciously put into storage for me. Life's not easy as a cat. It took me five days to walk here. But it inspired me to write more songs about animals."
The men chuckled and lay down next to her.
"I put an anti-thief spell on your luggage, but I never thought I've to put a spell on you to keep you safe," Gale muttered. "I won't let you leave the house without a protection spell ever again."
Tav snickered.
"Oh, my courageous saviour."
She kissed Gale and Astarion some more, now, that she could finally do it again, and held them close in her arms. The only other thing she craved, was strumming her lute again and making good use of humans' very practical fingers. That would have been a downside if Tav would have had to spent the rest of her life as a cat. She could have had still sung though – yowling at the moon.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#fanfic#astarion#astarion ancunin#gale#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#tav#scratch#owlbear cup#naïlo#crack treated seriously
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Danse Macabre WIP: Jurian, the Messy Bitch Who Lives for Drama.
The men had gathered into the stuffy drawing room. Smoke curled into the corners of the green wallpaper. Despite the thick, cloying smell, Jurain breathed with relief. These walls were not red, and a large bay window covered one wall.
His memories could not get him here.
“Cigar, general?” a rasped voice asked him from his left. Jurian met the eye of the haggard and drooping man. Burton, Jurian reminded himself, thinking of the child bride he had brought along with disgust. Shaking his head, Jurian declined the thick rod of tobacco. “Thank you, but the brandy has taken all of my attention.”
Merriwinn cleared his throat as he passed Jurian the glass. Taking great care to not sip, he made a show of savoring the flavor of the piss-colored liquid. He needed to be alert and present. Scanning the room, his eyes fell on the smarmy face of Greysan Nolan, who shot him a cat like grin. Fucker, Jurian thought as he raised his glass to the bland looking man. I am going to wring every bit of coin from you. He’d pay for Lucien and Elain’s mating ceremony with it, he decided. Clearing his throat, Jurian put his mask of arrogance on and set his trap.
“I say gentleman, I’d rather fight an entire unit of High Fae soldier than waltz again. At least in a fight, I have full control of my feet.” He roared with laughter that sounded too loud in his own ears, though a small chorus joined him.
“At least you have a queen to dance with!” one man hollered, “My wife, bless her, is the most blundering cow in a dance!”
“Speaking of queens,” Merriwinn piped up, “how has Queen Vassa’s situation improved?” The grumblings and laughter stopped, as all eyes met Jurian. Setting his glass down, Jurian made sure to keep his movements slow.
“Unfortunately, the scales have not tipped in our favor. She is still stuck in her curse, and we have now received information that Queen Heloise of Arbonne and Queen Linnea of Vellammo have staged an attack. Linnea has taken control of the northern borders near Rask, and Heloise has taken control of Tendukorum, the capital.” Jurian scanned the room, meeting every pair of eyes. Four averted their gazes, while the richest two in the room looked at him in shock and fear. But Greysen fucking Nolan studied him with an arrogance that Jurian found he did not like.
“We lost contact with the Scythian general about a month ago. The last we heard, the nomads were fighting a rebellion, which is why the two queens haven’t taken full control of the country. All remaining equine trade has been filtered into Arbonne, that’s certain.” Jurian took a breath, ‘And that is why I come to you today, gentleman. The Queen stood against tyrants who wanted to work with Hybern for their own power, who were willing to sell off their citizens for immortality. If you recall, Scythia is your greatest trade partner. Your horses and grains come from those plains that are being sacked and burned by two Queens who refuse to acknowledge the sovereignty of our lands.”
Jurian shrugged, “I do not worry about the fae to the north. The war is over, and the treaty has been drawn. The High Lords have kept their peace. We should be more focused on the remaining queens. They sold off her majesty and have colonized the oldest human city. Who’s to say they will not come to our shores?”
Nolan met Jurian’s eyes with a cruel grin, sensing a trap, he chose his final words carefully. “Linnea’s forces invaded through Rask. We know she is still working with unsavory fae for her own power. We cannot become the collateral.” He sipped his brandy, as he savored the commotion of the men around him.
“My contact in Arbonne tells me a much different story though.” Greysen said over the commotion.
Jurian froze, “Contact? You mean to say you have a contact in Arbonne?”
“Yes, a man at court. The Baron of Vanserra” Greysen sneered, as Jurian’s stomach dropped.
“A Baron? A baron got off his ass to contact a lowly Pythian trader?”
“Yes.” Nolan sneered, his bland face taking on an unpleasant shade as he raised his glass to his lips. “General, I think quite highly of you, but I cannot forget just how closely you work with the High Fae beyond the wall. So, I have found my own sources of information. We wouldn’t want the fae to cross our borders again, burning our villages, stealing our women.”
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
How do you think the family would react to a Camilores baby? With an aged up Camilo of course
Ohhh camilores is such a nice ship thank you for this ask anon!!
Mmm i think any inc3st baby would be a cause for drama 😭 i see Camilo as knowing very well when it's the time to be silly and fuck around, and when it's time to be serious, mature and responsible. I think he'd be a very sensitive and sweet partner to his sister, always keeping her wellbeing in mind - he knows her power is painful and difficult to deal with - and taking care of her. He totally learned that watching their parents btw. He takes after Pepa physically but he's patient and sensitive like his dad. He sees him take care of his mother and wants to be like that, and he's doing such a good job that Félix can't help but see himself and Pepa in Camilo and Dolores' interactions - I think Pepa would be too blinded by fear, anger and disgust initially, but she could maybe come around in time. I do think a baby being involved may soften her up to it a little, especially if she found out about their relationship earlier, and already had time to be shocked and horrified, so now she's coming down from that spike of panic, and, well, a baby means they're serious about this, right? She expected their relationship to be a dumb, weird, gross game they would grow out of eventually, she didn't even consider it an actual relationship, but now her daughter is expecting, and both she and her brother look so happy... if their relationship with Pepa is strained atm I think she may want to get closer to them, because she wants to be a part of the new family they're building. Ironically, a camilores baby would help lol.
If she found out about camilores because of the baby, it would be much different lol ajsjjd the whole family freaks tf out. I think Bruno, Julieta and Mirabel would be like "wait no let them explain" because they're sure there's more to the story than what they got to say before the shouting and thundering started, but now Pepa is screaming, Abuela is yelling at them, Félix is trying to keep Antonio out if it etc etc. Bruno and Mirabel are probably getting yelled at too lmao, because those two don't have rights 😔😔😔😔😔😔😔 so Julieta is the only one who can like calm everyone down and point out that Dolores is hurting, which is true, between the stress and the noise she's wincing, covering her ears, squeezing her eyes shut etc while Camilo tries to comfort her.
It's a disaster. The family wants to keep them apart, but lol a little too late for that isn't it? If Camilo weren't her brother, he'd be expected to stay and take care of both her and the baby. You can't just unmake the baby. I mean they probably could but idk if they'd have the tools, or if they're ideologically in agreement with those practices, because let's be honest, this is 1950 catholic rural colombia but also stuck in 1900, I see it very unlikely that like, Julieta and Isabela are out there handing magical herbs and stuff to perform abortions. And even if they were, I think it's a lot more interesting if Dolores wanted to keep the baby, so, the damage is done, and any responsible young father would stick around, right? He wouldn't just leave the mother alone. I can see Pepa and Félix insisting they should raise the baby as if it were their child, to which Dolores and Camilo react with horror and anger, because - no, the kid is theirs. Shouting match ensues.
I think it would be some very tense 9 months, but by the time the baby is born, I think they'd be more concerned with giving it a good life than punishing its parents. They would have had the time to wrap their heads around it and come around. The whole family would take care of Dolores during her pregnancy and, when the time comes, both her parents and her brother, as well as her aunt, are there to help and comfort her. The baby is born healthy, and everyone is excited to meet them.
I think a baby would give them some level of legitimacy as a real union, so the family may begin to treat them as just another couple, not less deserving of respect than Pepa and Félix or Agustín and Julieta. This is mostly the grandkids tbh and probably Bruno, who doesn't think it's cool to judge anyone and just wants to support the weirdos. Pepa and Félix on the other hand... they accepted it, they want their kids to be happy, and they want to help them raise their grandkid, but I don't think they'll ever be 100% okay like their nieces are. They're still uncomfortable when they see them being affectionate in public, and they still wonder how come this happened, but they're trying their best to be supportive :)
As for Antonio... he's just happy to be an uncle, and he's asking Agustín and Bruno for advice on how to be a good one ajsjdkfk
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Day 4 of NaNoWriMo 2022
(I took a small break to finish editing the girl punk novel, but she’s BACK!)
In which I called it a vampire himbo novel, and I was not mincing my words...
Ollie blinks. “Aw yeah, that. Hey, did you know when they kill people on tv, it’s fake?” His eyes go wide like this is an industry secret nobody tells you about. “It’s all frost pieces and blood syrup.”
Grace lets out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “He means prosthesis and corn syrup.”
Booker lets out another loud pfft. “Why would it be made out of corn? It’s blood, Gracie. It’s red!”
“She means the real murders. The girls who actually died.”
“Wait. They died? For real?” Ollie and Booker have both stopped laughing now, exchanging a glance for confirmation. Ollie offers up a shrug, just as clueless as Booker. Booker pouts, horrified.
Grace sits back on her cushions, her eyes flicking back and forth between them. She lets out a cough. “You guys know you kill people all the time, right?”
“We do?” Booker asks her, genuinely surprised, while at the same time, Ollie gives a floppy headed nod. “Oh, yeah! Dude, remember, we killed those guys the other day ‘cause they were getting on our nerves?”
“Oh...! Yeah, dude! That was most bogus!” Booker offers another shake of his surf boy fist, tongue stuck out.
Grace pitches Marnie a sardonic glance as if to say you see what I have to deal with? Marnie does, but she’s still unsure she’s seen the whole picture of what is going on here. By all accounts, these are just a pair of dumb surf dudes, like all the other dumb surf dudes in the state. But there’s no way any real human being would be this dumb…
“Gracie’s right,” Ollie murmurs, changing course now that he’s been reminded. “Turns out I guess we do kill people, but definitely not those ones. Hope that clears things up.”
“Totally ex-rated.” Both Marnie an Ollie pass Booker screwed up frowns of absolute befuddlement.
“Exonerated,” Grace sighs out, silently begging Marnie to get what she means when she insists these boys are dumb as fuck.
“That’s what I said! Expatriated!”
“Dude! Exsanguinated!” Ollie raises his hand for a righteous high five, pleased with his little game of tangents only one of them seem to be aware they’re playing.
“Totally… that’s what happens when they kick us out of the karaoke bars all the time!”
“What about… excoriated? We do that too, dude!” Ollie carries on their whiplash banter, and this time, Marnie genuinely can’t tell if they’re playing intellectual word games to fuck with their mortal companions, or if they’re genuinely this dense.
Shockingly enough, Booker thinks about it for a beat before he figures it out. Marnie leans in, vaguely rooting for him to parse this one out on his own. He sounds it out like a child with phonics flashcards, breaking down the compound word. He snaps his fingers like he’s finally got it. “Oh! Dude…! What happens when we get kicked out of the gym!”
Ollie lets out a delighted guffaw of a laugh. “Dude!” his partner says simply. Booker preens, absolutely pleased with having received the highest, most outrageous of compliments.
Marnie couldn’t have said it better herself: Dude indeed.
#sophie writes#vampire himbo novel#Regardless 2.0#nanowrimo#this is exactly what conversations at my family dinners are like btw#it's just a lot of quick word associations#ollie & booker#am writing
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
psst, jason/talia.
Yeah...no. No.
I have a lot of thoughts on Jason and Talia and their relationship, but I firmly reject any romantic interpretation. Jason and Talia as a romance seems to hinge on Talia having sex with him during the Lost Days, and I can never get into that because I'm not a fan of the "Talia the rapist" character choice, I wasn't when they tried to make it the canonical backstory for Damian's conception (like, if you want her to be morally/ethically grey about it, it's not like faking a miscarriage so that your partner thinks that their baby is dead and then immediately fucking off to raise that baby in secrecy with a culty terrorist organization is a super great move either) and I definitely wasn't a fan with Jason. Like, take stock of the situation Jason is in during the tryst with Talia.
For one, Jason Todd is a child. He's, what, sixteen when that all goes down? And Talia is significantly older, even physically she's the same age of his father, to say nothing of her literal age, and I'm of the opinion that people in their thirties or in their hundreds shouldn't be having sex with teenagers under any circumstances.
For two, Talia has an incredible amount of power over Jason that renders any affirmation he can give her totally moot. Talia is the one who got him off the streets of Gotham before he got seriously hurt or even killed again (which, as a catatonic fifteen year old no one knows is even alive, he very likely would have been). Ra's wanted Jason dead, once it became clear that he wasn't progressing fast enough for his tastes, and it's Talia's decision to put him in the Lazarus Pit and subsequently save his life. Jason owes Talia a life debt, and it is very clear that she is the only person in the League, a place that is half a world away from anyone else who even knows about him, let alone cares about him, who is even remotely invested in his survival. Even beyond the fact that Jason's ability to stay alive is dependent entirely on Talia's desire for him to be that way, she also funds a lifestyle he is becoming psychologically dependent on, his training as he prepares to head back to Gotham and become the Red Hood. Jason needs to stay in Talia's good graces to keep that lifestyle and that life in general, and who's to say that refusing something she wants wouldn't remove him from those graces? I'm sure everyone can see the problem with that.
For three, Jason is not mentally healthy during this time. At all. He is severely traumatized from the litany of horrible things that, to him, have happened in a very short time period, and he is not getting any treatment for it. Lost Days Jason desperately needs psychiatric help in order to deal with the mental toll of everything that's happened to him, and he doesn't have that, and that means he's stuck in a really bad mental space without the ability to really get out of it, and it does effect his decision making (the Red Hood plan, while it does show Jason's natural intelligence and strategic abilities, is not a normal thing to plan, nor is any of Jason's reactions in Lost Days normal or healthy, though they are understandable given the information he has available to him and his headspace).
There is no way that Jason can give meaningful consent to Talia in any of these circumstances individually, never mind all of them combined. Jason Todd is a teenage boy under a significant amount of strain and distress that does influence his decision making abilities who is entirely reliant on Talia, a very powerful adult and sole authority, not just to live comfortably but be able to live at all in an area where nobody else knows him, knows of him, or cares remotely about his wellbeing. And that doesn't even touch on the fact that Jason has been repeatedly and heavily implied to have solicited while homeless after Catherine died and before Bruce found him as a way to try and survive, so adding that mess of issues and past trauma from rape and molestation is a whole other can of worms when it comes to Jason and choices he makes to try and keep himself alive regardless of personal wants.
Any sex between Talia and Jason would be rape. Even if Jason is the one attempting to instigate or otherwise initiate, it is on Talia, as the adult, especially one aware of the situation in general and the situation of the power she holds over Jason and Jason's mental space, should put a firm stop to it, not indulge herself at a child's expense. Her not doing that, not being a responsible grown-up here, completely wrecks her character and is genuinely horrid. Not to mention it doesn't make any sense, what's the point of it? What gratification can you get from raping a traumatized kid, especially one who you know because of your affair with his dad? What's sexy about that, beyond "hot forbidden tryst with this older sexy brown woman" being something the writers are turned on by?
Because yeah, even going away from the Watsonian perspective, if we go full Doylist, this whole thing reeks of racism. Talia has always been a victim of racist writing due to the fact that she's a prominent woman of color and thus prone to a lot of racist tropes when storylines are being written for her. And brown women have a tendency to be exoticized, eroticized, and hyper-sexualized in real life, let alone in fiction, and having Talia, a brown woman, be so sexually aggressive that she rapes a child in order to satisfy her lust plays into that 100%, and was a horrible writing decision that decimates her character and really sours the entire Red Hood: Lost Days story for me.
Listen, I'm always in favor of ship and let ship, but Jason/Talia as a romantic pairing is a big fat giant NO from me and given that comics is the one medium that allows you to pick and choose your own canon, I am electing to excise it from my mind and my canon and say that it never happened.
#personal#answered#anonymous#rape tw#honestly please let me know if you need this tagged as anything else#but yeah jason and talia as a ship really doesn't work for me#as you can see i have a LOT of thoughts about the lost days sex#it's rape to me there's no two ways about it#(and again that whole stint of 'let's make talia a rapist because all brown women are sexy lust addled hornbeasts' is just Racism)
1 note
·
View note
Note
im not a RPer but id love to know more about your Morty OC! :] What is your backstory on them and do you ship them with any canon character or another OC?
AWWW OMG OMG YOU DREW THAT AWESOME AND SILLY LOOKING PRIME ART HIIIII!! *WAVES* :DDD TY TY TY TYSM FOR ASKING! :DD I don't have all their information but here's what I've got so far: (heehee rping should help with that though!)
~Marty
~ Pronouns: He/ They Xe/Xem
Sexuality: Pansexual demiboy with more of an attraction to men
~Age: 20(present)
Family: Rick(dead) Summer(dead) Beth, Space Beth, Jerry, Uncle BirdPerson
Dimension: RK-977
Backstory: A normal Morty all things considered. Has a space grandpa that drives him nuts, goes on adventures, and ends up in a big stand off with the Intergalactic Feds. Things go wrong and people get hurt leaving him and the survivors of his family running throughout multiverse as wanted fugitives.
Family relationships:
Rick: There were ups and downs, bad nights because of alcohol and drugs, and some fucked up things here and there but Rick always put Marty first and has "died" numerous times for his sake. They didn't always see eye to eye on things but his love for Marty was never in doubt. Believes there's no one that can replace his Grandpa Rick.
Summer: A bitch of a sister but one hell of a partner. Marty and Summer were often tasked with taking care of one another on adventures as well as tag teaming. They fought on and off and generally kept a distance at school, Summer did her best to raise Marty despite the circumstances.
Jerry: He and Marty are talking and seeing one another occasionally. He got a divorce with Beth and has been living on his own sense. Stays in that shitty apartment taking odd jobs here and there while trying to make time for his kids. He still has some feelings for Beth but doesn't do anything about it since Beth seems to have moved on. He hopes that he can be a better father to his kids, and maybe even a friend to Beth.
Beth: Divorced Jerry awhile back and went to work taking care of the kids herself, Beth has been doing the best she can do. Jerry can't usually pay the child support so she's stuck working full time at the horse hospital. Tired, hurt, starting to get a drinking habit, and in fear of losing her kids love, she spends as much time with them as she can and leaves Rick to care for them when she can't. She's still processing the divorce and trying to figure out what she wants amidst the war.
Space Beth: A Beth that has been with the Resistance for years before meeting Marty, she ends up on the Smith families doorstep while laying low. despite being there for a short time, she quickly takes a liking to Beth and her family. She is the reason that they end up being pulled into the Feds line of sight in the first place. She's spent most of her life fighting and she continues you to with the addition of the Smiths.
Uncle BirdPerson/BP: Another Resistance member and one of the first to join in the efforts, Marty met BP through Space Beth. They started out on uneasy terms since they just crashed on some strangers couch for awhile to hide from the FEDs. Come to find out, he knew Marty's grandfather and was friends with him when they were younger. Deciding he's trustworthy, he adopts BP as an Uncle figure and frequents his house. BP ends up telling Marty everything he went throught with his grandfather and grows close to him.
#TY TY TY SOOO MUCH FFOR BEING INTRESTYED?#QWQ THAT'S SO COOOL#WAHHH#HAPPY STTIIIMS#lol imma copy and past this under the rp ask post as their info once the ref is finished#i'm most of the way done#:DD#also#i'd love to talk more Rand M if you wanna op!#:DDD#anything really!#morty oc#morty oc marty#marty#rick and morty oc
10 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! I’m looking for recommendations for a particular trope/genre: Feudal Era AU as @superpixie42 would say. Fics that are Canon-era (Inuyasha-world without Inuyasha plot) but are not quite canon-divergent or fix-it? I’m thinking along the lines of Out of The Woods (Miss_Dyana), Kintsugi, If We Fall Anyway (both Evilillusions), for example. Any other genre/rating is good. Thank you! 💓
Hey @anisaanisa, it's no secret this is one of Mod Pixie's favorite AUs, so thank you for the chance to put this one together!
Shelter by @lavendertwilight89 (E)
Summary: Song fic inspired Stuck with You and Shelter. Inuyasha has been alone most of his life and one moonless night he gets caught up with a young priestess. She saves him and he, in return, helps her. What he doesn't realize is, this priestess holds a lot of secrets which may or may not cost both of them their lives...
--
Demon Nature by @shardetector (E)
Summary: He spoke low and gently, although his voice was gruff with his demon still so close to the surface, “You saved me wench, now I’ll repay the favor.” With that, his muscles bunched in his legs as he sprung up and out of the well, a red blur in the night as he made his way through the forest to his destination. His precious cargo held safely to his chest, as he raced to save her with his demonic speed.
--
there's no place (for us/like home) by guardianKarenterrier (G)
Summary: Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Inuyasha starts to creep closer to the fire at night. Now that he's not so injured, he's begun to vanish into the woods and come back to throw down rabbits and once a badger at the side of the hut, and Kagome hasn't had to worry about finding enough to eat as the air starts to turn colder. He hardly ever talks to them, or at all, and he won't come close enough to touch- he never comes as close as he had that first day again, but he stays. She's not sure why he stays, but she's glad that he does.
--
Comfort Food by @splendentgoddess (E)
Summary: Feudal AU one-shot. An ex-miko-in-training stumbles upon a seemingly human man alone in the woods during the moonless night. He seems all alone in the world - just like her. Goodness, when was the last time he had a decent meal?
--
Half-Breed’s Wife by @gypsin (M)
Summary: On the night of the new moon, a runaway girl stumbles into Inuyasha's life. Little did he realize then what he would be undertaking by saving her. But when Kagome has nowhere else to go will he leave her to her fate Or will he rise to the occasion? And what will the humans think?
--
Your Lying Smile by @dawnrider (M)
Summary: A beautiful day by the river quickly takes a turn, taking control of her life completely out of Kagome's hands. Her "rescuer" becomes something else entirely before she can get a word in edgewise. A Feudal-esue AU
--
We Are Family by @theladyofthewest (T)
Summary: Imagine a world in which the Inu No Taisho lived to raise his sons together, as brothers. Inuyasha never had to learn to survive on his own, he never met Kikyo, never heard of the Shikon Jewel. Now imagine if Kagome fell into this world instead of the one she did in canon. Imagine if she and Inuyasha had ... parental supervision.
--
Oblivion @meggz0rz (M)
Summary: Feudal-era Japan. A war to the death between youkai and humankind. Kagome, rebellious daughter of a noble family, is not about to let her grandfather sacrifice himself in battle. So she takes his place, dressed as a boy and ready to fight to survive. But in love and war, things are rarely as they seem, and there is a spy in the army ranks who just might be Kagome's downfall...
--
Everybody Wants To Be An Inuyoukai by @superpixie42 (T)
Summary: A birthday one-shot for kstewdeux very vaguely based on the plot of the Aristocats. When Kagome, newly widowed with a newborn son, is named the heir of her mother-in-law's enormous estate things suddenly go from bad to worse. She's drugged, kidnaped, and left for dead on the side of the road. With the help of some unexpected new friends, Kagome finds herself questioning: does she even want to make it back home?
--
The Shogun’s Daughter by @shnuggletea (E)
Summary: Kagome's father passed away when she was just a child but his Shogun status still makes her a valuable bride to a Lord of lands that border their village. Lord Inuyasha Tashio is pushed by the council into marriage, assured his new bride was an excellent choice. All their fears and anxiety are amplified when they meet.
--
Timeless and Forbidden Love by lunalibro (M)
Summary: Once, a long long time ago in Japan, demons and other horrid monsters out of nightmares roamed the lands. Wars were never-ending, famine, death and bloodshed abound. Admist this chaos, there lived a great priestess named Midoriko who was renowned throughout for not only her incredible power and fighting prowess, but also for ethereal beauty. She defeated countless demons and staved off many dark evils as the protector of humankind. Eventually, Midoriko fell in love and birthed twin daughters. The eldest was named Kikyo and the youngest was named Kagome, While alike in looks, the sisters were complete opposites. Naturally, these girls inherited their mother’s immense powers. From a young age, Midoriko trained them in combat and in the spiritual arts. The sisters grew in strength and looks. However, Kikyo’s powers had matured far greater than that of her sister’s. Midoriko decided Kikyo shall be the one to take her place as the new protector of Musashi. From then on, Kagome would find herself living in her sister’s shadow. Maybe with the help of a young half-demon named InuYasha, Kagome could realize her worth and possibly fall in love in the process. A forbidden love that will last throughout time.
--
Beauty and the Hanyou by mishelledor23 (M)
Summary: Inspired by Beauty and the Beast, but Inuyasha style! The terrible half-demon prince Inuyasha is under a fifty-year old curse that keeps him trapped inside his castle. Can Kagome, the reluctant miko-in-training become his friend? Maybe even his love? InuXKag, MirXSan. Lemons and language in later chapters!
--
For Better or Worse by Anime Wildfire
Summary: Kagome, priestess in training, turns her life upside down when she saves the life of the half demon Inuyasha… and accidentally finds herself bound to him via pesky subjugation beads. This is not how she thought her day- or her life- was going to go.
--
By the Match, Not the Flame by @goshinote (M)
Summary: Inuyasha is a hellbent hanyo on a mission for revenge. Kagome is a wanted miko on the run. Their intentions align in more ways than one, but secrets abound between them as they partner up during their travels. With an inevitable and impending betrayal looming over them, the pressure rises with every day they spend moving closer to the enemy’s clutches.
--
A Private Affair by JeremyMarsh (T)
Summary: During a simple patrol operation, Inuyasha, a general in a war between demons and humans that has been going on for two years now, goes all the way across enemy territory to reach the village where his betrothed lived before the conflict broke out. Here he is discovered by her younger sister who intentionally reveals something to him that she shouldn't have.
Shocked, Inuyasha decides to embark on a new and dangerous mission that could cost him his life or worse.
--
Koi no Yokan by @keichanz (E)
Summary: Koi no Yokan: The feeling when you meet someone that you’re bound to fall in love.
A prince discovering a deeper meaning to seemingly random hordes of bloodthirsty demons. A young woman unwillingly sold to a brothel by uncaring relatives, frightened and alone. How could these two circumstances possibly be related?
We are also including the works Anisa mentioned in the ask for those who are unfamiliar
Out of the Woods by @dyaz-stories
Summary: After the murder of Kikyo, the local priestess, the villagers start leaving offerings to the forest's god, who they think they've angered. Kagome, called to the village to replace her cousin, finds out, too late, just how far they're willing to go when they use her as the month's sacrifice. She decides not to go down without a fight — except that, instead of an angry god, she finds herself faced with a hungry half-demon, who's very annoyed he won't be getting a food offering for the month. “What the fuck are you doing here? Where’s my food?” “Oh I’m sorry, am I not a sacrifice satisfying enough?”
--
Kinstugi by @soliska
Summary: AU. Failing to be chosen as her village's miko, Kagome had resigned herself to a humble life. An unexpected summons returns her to the city where she's forced to reconcile the taught virtues and the spiralling, warped reality created by those that abuse their power. She holds the key to repairing the fracture between humans and youkai, and the freedom of her new hanyou friend.
--
If We Fall Anyway by @soliska
Summary: What if the shikon jewel didn’t exist and Naraku never came to be? What if Kagome fell down the well anyway and met a gruff, young inu-hanyou. Would they still become friends? What would be their story? A tale told in snippets.
127 notes
·
View notes
Text
Not One of Them.
// masterlist //
Word Count: 9.9k
Category: Fluff, single mom!Y/N
Warning: Some strong language. Slight mention of abortion. Not proof-read.
Note: time-skip to when covid-19 is dead ok
Summary: Harry is lyrically stuck, Y/N is the new big songwriter. She’s also a single mom to a 4-year-old girl.
Early italics are flashbacks.
..
When you’re a young mother, the world isn’t always the kindest, especially when no partner is in the picture.
While you were young, having had baby Faith when you were only 21, you applauded yourself for years for the effort you poured into raising a child alone – with the help of family and friends, and too many books and videos, but you get the point.
Faith wasn’t a mistake, you hate it when anyone even dares to imply so, but she was unplanned. You were in a toxic on-and-off relationship for 3 years, at some point believing that it might have been an open relationship because of the amount of times you caught your ex-boyfriend flirting with women and men right in front of you.
You had done your part after knowing that you were pregnant after one drunken night that led to a rough make-up session. You approached your ex, sat him down and broke the news;
“I’m pregnant.”
“Whose is it?” He had asked, face falling.
Yours scrunched up in anger, almost disgust at the implication. “Yours, you dumb-fuck! I don’t sleep around while I’m in a relationship like some people.” You had emphasized.
He ignored your comment, releasing a sigh. “You aren’t keeping it, are you?”
You were never against abortion. You were never against planned pregnancy. You had freaked out alright on your own when you were confirmed pregnant, but something inside you told you to hold on to the human inside of you, to that little bundle of oblivion – a little bundle of faith.
It was when he asked you that one question, his tone almost sure that you would abort the child, that you felt angry tears pool your eyes. “I am.”
He wasn’t ready to hear it and his wide eyes showed that, “Wh-What do you mean you are? I can’t have a fucking baby! This wasn’t supposed to get this real!”
“This real?” You had chuckled bitterly, “You stay with me for 3 years, fuck me over more than I can count then you always come crying for me, then tell me it wasn’t supposed to get this real?” You stood up, draping your bag over your shoulder, “I’m having the kid, Will. It’s over between us and-“ you gulped, swallowing back the tears as you pointed at him, “I never want to see you again.”
“You bet your fucking ass you won’t.” He had grumbled, tearing eye contact to look somewhere else but your death glare before you left.
Besides the university halls, Will had managed to stay out of your sight and you were grateful for that. Pregnancy was a roller-coaster, one you definitely screamed during all ride of, but nothing and nobody prepared you for the moment when you gave birth to your little love.
Your roommate and best friend, Cece, had driven you to the hospital and notified the rest of your family and friends, and you were glad that during that very period of time, you had someone beside you.
It was when you held your little love that it all faded away; the pain, the loss, the confusion, the fright – everything faded away the moment your skin made contact with your daughter’s, watching her with pure love and admiration.
You hadn’t picked a name before that moment, only nodding and smiling to the showering of recommendation from people, but one name wasn’t recommended, not even mentioned.
“Faith. You’re my little Faith.”
“You’re looking a little sick, honey. Have you been eating well? You overwork yourself-”
“Mom, mom,” you laughed quietly, tearing your eyes from watching your daughter play with her cousins before looking at your mom beside you, “I’m alright. Last project was challenging, that’s all.”
“Who were you writing for this time?” your mom asked with pride and excitement, curious to know the name of yet another big celebrity her daughter had been working with.
“Adele.” You smirked as you sipped your juice, hearing your mom gasp with a hand to her heart before letting out a small squeal.
In her dungarees and sandals, Faith ran towards you, making you set your juice aside to welcome your daughter in your arms. “Mommy, did you see me win Tag?”
“Yes! You were amazing!” You hyped your daughter up, pressing a sloppy kiss on her cheek, making Faith giggle.
With Faith standing between your legs, talking to her grandma, you checked your watch. “Ah, shoot. I better get going.”
“Will you be here for bedtime story?” Faith asked, looking up at you as you slung on your tote bag and held your car key in one hand before kneeling in front of your daughter.
“I will be, baby. Don’t give Nana a hard time, okay?”
“Okay, Mommy.”
“I love you.” With one last hug and a kiss on her cheek, you smiled at your daughter who clung to your neck, pressing a sweet kiss on her cheek.
“I love you.” Faith replied, moving to stand with her nephew after waving at you as you left.
“Call me at any time if anything happens or if you need anything, Mom, yeah?” You said as you walked towards the door, your mother following behind.
“Wouldn’t want to disturb your wo-”
“Mom.” You stressed, turning to look at your mom, “Nothing like that. I’ll get going. Thank you for watching her.”
“Oh, don’t thank me. You know I love spending time with little Faith more than anything. Drive safely, honey.”
//
“Hey, Andrew, got you a donut.” You beamed as you approached the studio’s receptionist, a 19-year-old intern.
“You’re an angel.” Andrew sighed in contentment as he opened the box containing his donut before looking at you, “Just adopt me. I guarantee I’ll be the best brother to Faith.”
You laughed, “Think having a 19-year-old son will make me feel old. I’ll pass.”
“Dammit.” Andrew shook his head jokingly. “Meeting with Jeffery Azoff, huh?”
“Yeah, do you know if he got here yet?”
“Like 3 minutes ago.”
You checked your watch again, finding that it was just on time for your scheduled meeting, feeling glad that you weren’t late.
“Alright, I’ll see you on the way out.” You waved at Andrew who nodded at you while raising his donut before you set off down the hall and into the elevator.
Walking out and down the hallway, you approached the room you had agreed to meet Jeffrey in before knocking softly, hearing a distant “come in!”
Gently opening the door and sticking your head inside, your eyes moved to the couch where 2 men looked up at you; one was Jeffrey – you had seen pictures of him from when you worked once with his father – and the other was, undoubtedly in your mind, none other than Harry Styles.
“Y/N?” Jeff asked, him and Harry standing as you walked in and closed the door behind you, approaching them.
“Yes,” you smiled, reaching for a handshake which he had happily accepted, “It’s great meeting you.”
Harry’s eyes were set on you, a small smile on his face that did everything but mirror the surprise he felt. He wasn’t sure why; he didn’t have any expectations but he certainly didn’t expect to see someone as radiant as you were.
You looked at him next with a polite smile as you reached for a handshake, “Pleasure meeting you. I’m a huge fan of your work.”
And God, his stomach flipped and his face flushed at the comment, feeling shy under your gaze as he shook your hand, “Thank you so much. Can say the same about your work, you’re very talented.”
“Thanks!” You beamed before motioning towards the couch, the 3 of you sitting down; Harry and Jeff on the couch, you on a chair across from them. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“No, thanks. Had the biggest cup of coffee just before coming here.” Jeff replied.
You turned to look at Harry, smiling and nodding when he raised his bottle of water.
“Alright, let’s get into it,” you leaned forward, “How can I help you?”
Jeff looked at Harry, signaling for him to talk.
“I know it hasn’t been a year since I released Fine Line,” Harry moved his hands as he talked, looking at the carpeted floor underneath him before looking up at you, “But I’ve been writing ever since but- something is missing. Something is wrong. I wrote 9 tracks so far, all of them are unfinished because I just feel like they’re missing something. I have the idea, have the concepts, sometimes I have the tunes,” he counted on his fingers, “But I can’t finish one song. It’s like I’m, like,” he shrugged, trying to find the right word.
“Stuck?” You suggested, staring at him with an assuring expression which he found soothing.
Harry’s body slumped, tilting his head slightly as he looked back at you and a soft, small smile made its way to his face at how you understood. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Yeah, stuck. That’s the word.”
“I get you,” you assured him, “Do you guys have any sort of deadline?”
“No, not really, no. Not yet.” Jeff shook his head.
“Great,” you clapped, your eyebrows going up, “Do you have any of these tracks’ lyrics now?”
“Yeah, lemme just-“ Harry reached beside him, holding his tote bag to take out his journal.
“Hey!” You grinned, grabbing his attention and making him look at you, seeing you holding out your tote bag to him.
You matched; right on the fabric in the middle was an illustrated design of a small cactus plant pot.
“I have the same one!” You looked down at yours before looking at him, Harry mirroring your actions before a grin broke out on his face.
“Well then, Y/N, it’s set. These will be the best songwriting sessions of the century. It’s fate.” He said dramatically in a joking manner, making you laugh quietly as you set your bag aside and he fished out his journal.
Flipping through the pages, he handed you his journal so you can see one of the songs he had half-written, watching as leaned back on the comfy chair, holding the journal in your hands and reading.
It was excruciating. Harry grew nervous, feeling funny in his stomach and he tried to convince himself that it might be the salad he had eaten prior to that meeting, and not that he was nervous you’d think he was the worst songwriter to-date.
He watched your eyes, taking notice of how you didn’t skim through the words, but read them carefully and taking your time to do so.
“This is really beautiful, Harry.” You said softly, eyes still on the page before looking up at him, oblivious to the breath Harry let out, “Really beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He smiled, discreetly wiping his sweaty hands on his pants.
“Not much damage really. The concept is clear. Post-breakup song.” You said, handing him his journal.
Harry nodded, confirming.
“Are the rest like that, too?”
“Not really,” Harry shook his head, “Figured that the last album had too many of that.”
You nodded, “Yeah, I understand. Just- I say take your time, honestly. I’ll help you with the songs you have, maybe we’d get inspired along the way to write new stuff, too, but you don’t want to force anything, you know? Sometimes some lyrics just aren’t meant to be, you know?”
“Yeah, you’re right.” He nodded.
“Don’t you worry,” you gave him a smile, “It’ll all work out.”
“Well, so do we have a deal?” Jeff asked with a smile, opening his arms.
“I’m in.”
Maybe it was because you said that as you looked at him, or maybe it was because he knew of how crazy talented you were – he had spoken to his good friend Ed Sheeran a week prior and Ed had sworn up and down on your talent and how “bloody lovely! Like a little bird” you were – or maybe it your smile – hell, it might be a combination of all that, but Harry was ecstatic to work with you.
“I’m very excited to work with you, Y/N.” Harry had said with a smile of his own.
“Likewise, Harry. It isn’t that common to find artists as real as you are.”
God, what was with your compliments that had him blushing?
“It’s a pleasure, Y/N,” Jeff, too, had said. “Let’s talk busi-”
“Let’s do that over lunch.” You pointed at him, standing up, “My treat.”
“You always this friendly with clients?” Harry joked with an amused smile, staring up at you.
But your smile dropped and instead, your face twisted to worry. “Oh God, I hope I’m not stepping boundaries. It’s just always a good idea to warm up to each other and- I’m sorry, you probably think this is unpro-”
“Hey, hey, no,” Harry was quick to stand, holding his hands out, “I didn’t mean it like that. I genuinely think you’re friendly. Half of the songwriters I worked with were strict and- Shit, no. Lunch sounds wonderful. Really wonderful.”
He felt like an ass. A proper one. He hadn’t meant to make you feel like you were too friendly but that didn’t turn out as well as he had thought.
“We’d love to, really. Besides, it’s probably a great idea that you and Harry know each other so the sessions can go smooth.” Jeff added, standing up.
At this, Harry found himself smiling when the smile returned to your face. “In that case, there’s a place nearby that makes amazing sandwiches and desserts.”
Jeff’s mind was squeaking from its gears working. There weren’t many people on this planet who were purely kind, and it was something he admired in Harry. But at that moment, Jeff knew he had met one more person who was genuinely kind, just like his best friend and “client” – he hated calling Harry that – and it was proof when you insisted that you could give them a ride to and from the place instead of them following behind you or using the GPS, Jeff sitting in the passenger seat during the ride to the place while Harry sat at the back.
The place was a 5-tabeled one, nothing big. One wall was decorated with polaroids of customers, the waiters and waitresses, the chefs, and another with colorful stick-notes with messages from customers. It was a lowkey place, one that Harry hadn’t visited during all his trips to the studio until that moment.
“Hey, Y/N!” The woman behind the counter beamed as she waved.
“Hi, Soph! How are you?”
Soph stood from the chair she was sitting on, taking a few steps back to show her pregnant bump, putting one hand to it, “Ready to pop!”
You had motioned towards a table to Harry and Jeff who were quietly watching the interaction.
You gasped, “Look at you! And you’re still coming to work? What a queen.”
Soph shrugged, sitting back down, “Got mouths to feed and a self to pamper.” She said before waving at Harry and Jeff, “Hello, gentlemen.”
Jeff waved with a smile while Harry added, “Hello! Congratulations on your pregnancy.”
“Why thank you, Mr. Styles.” Soph replied.
Harry liked it. The no-freaking-out. How homey it all felt.
“Rick will be with you in a sec.” Soph said.
You, Harry, and Jeff sat on the circular table, both Harry and you hanging your tote bags on their chairs.
“You come here often, huh?” Harry started the conversation, crossing his arms on the table and leaning forward.
“You have no idea. You’d think I don’t know anywhere else.” You chuckled, “Been coming here ever since I was in college.”
Harry’s eyebrows went up in surprise, “Really? How long ago was that?”
“Graduated 3 years ago, first came when I was 19 so that’s about 6 years.”
“True loyal customer you are.” Harry said.
“What did you study, Y/N?” Jeff asked.
“Music composition. Was the disgrace of the family.” You joked, “Definitely had no idea the entire time if I would actually work or not.”
“But look at you now, one of the best.” Harry motioned towards you.
You waved him off with a bashful smile, “None of that. I still have no idea what I’m doing most of the time, I just get paid now.”
“Who even knows what they’re doing now?” Harry rhetorically asked, “We’re just, going with the flow.”
“Word, sir. Word.” They heard, the 3 of them turning to see the waiter – Rick – by their table.
Harry laughed, “Right?”
“Absolutely. I don’t remember the last time my plans didn’t get fucked. Just riding now.” Rick shrugged.
Harry raised his fist up for a bump, Rick bumping his fist into Harry’s.
Time seemed to pass as Harry and Jeff let you order for them, talking about the music industry and sharing funny stories while at it, as well as you had discussed your own business as you ate the club sandwiches and sipped on the iced tea.
“What are you doing?” You asked with a funny face as Harry took out his wallet after you had asked for the check.
“Paying?”
“Yeah, no. Said it’d be my treat.” You pointed at him, raising one eyebrow with a smile.
“Come on, I can’t just let you pay for us on the first day we meet.”
“Let’s at least split the bill.” Jeff suggested, watching as you shook your head.
“Absolutely not.” And with that, you stood up and walked towards Soph, paying for the food.
“How much do you want to bet that something will happen between the both of you?” Jeff asked quickly with a smirk, looking at Harry with a knowing look.
Harry’s eyes widened, tearing his gaze from being on you to his friend and manager, “What?”
“How much?”
“I just met her.” Harry tried to reason with him, finding Jeff to be bizarre and irrational. Hopeful, but irrational.
Jeff only gave him a shrug, “That’s a first.”
“That’s enough rom-coms at night for you, Jeffrey.”
At the sight of you walking back towards them, they both stopped talking and instead, smiled. “All sorted.”
“Thank you so much, Y/N. You really didn’t have to.” Harry stood, slinging his tote bag on his shoulder.
“I wanted to. Please don’t mention it.” You had smiled as you replied, the 3 of you putting back your chairs. “Bye, Soph!”
“Bye, sweetie!”
“Congratulations again on your pregnancy and good luck.” Harry put both hands together, pursing his lips into a polite smile at the woman behind the counter.
“You’re a sweetheart. Thank you, kind sir.” Soph joked, tipping an imaginary hat at him to which Harry responded to by holding up the tips of his imaginary skirt, putting one foot behind the other in a curtsy making you giggle.
With no spoken words, Jeff was quick to get into the backseat, pursing his lips to stifle his laughter at Harry’s face, who looked at him with wide eyes and an expression that screamed “What the fuck are you doing?” but he got into the passenger seat nonetheless, oblivious to the light shade of red that visited his cheeks but aware of the heat his face seemed to radiate.
The ride back to the studio wasn’t quiet. The radio was on for some background music but you and Harry were too engaged in a conversation to take notice of the songs playing. Anyone could have asked you what even started the conversation of French toast and you wouldn’t know how to reply because none of you knew how you suddenly began talking about French toast.
“Have you tried soaking the toast in lemon?” You asked, tone excited and face breaking into an eager smile.
Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, “Haven’t, no. How good is it?”
“God, it’s,” you shook your head, almost closing your eyes in delight as if you tasted the toast that moment but refrained because you were driving, “It’s so good.”
So what Harry secretly wished the ride was longer? He wanted to talk about French toast. That was definitely why.
“Y/N, it’s a pleasure working with you.” Jeff said, “Thank you for the food.”
“It’s no problem.” You smiled at him, turning around to look at him once you were parked.
“I’ll wait for you in the car.” Jeff said, patting Harry’s shoulder before getting out of the car.
Harry took a breath, slapping his hands against his thighs, “Well, that was fun.”
You nodded, looking back at him with a bashful smile that you mentally scolded yourself for; why were you getting bashful?
“Is it alright if I take your number from Jeff?” Harry asked quickly, “Uh, so we can schedule meeting up for the sessions.” He quickly added, “The writing sessions.” He nearly cringed at his addition and he guessed you caught on because you giggled quietly before straightening your posture.
“Actually, Jeff has my business number. Maybe you can just, take my personal one so I can reply faster. You know, the sooner the better.” You cleared your throat, nodding to yourself.
Harry’s lips stretched into a side smile as he looked at you before he coughed and nodded, “Definitely. The sooner you reply, the sooner we meet. For the writing sessions.”
“Yeah and I can give you the lemon toast recipe.” You said before your eyebrows rose up, “For business purposes, of course.”
Harry’s smile widened at that, holding out his phone for you to take after he unlocked it. “I’d love that.”
You typed in your number before handing his phone back to him, watching as Harry glanced down at it before your phone began ringing, “And that’s mine.” He said, watching you unlock you phone and type before you locked it back.
“Then it’s settled.”
“I’ll text you.” He smiled before opening the door and standing out, ducking to look at you, “Next time, lunch is on me.” And with that, Harry gave you a wave before closing the door and walking away, only giving you a smile over your shoulder and another wave before getting into the car with Jeff.
After getting some snacks from the grocery’s with a shit-eating grin on your face, you drove back to your mom’s to pick Faith up.
You stood on the other side of your car, watching the door open before you saw Faith, her backpack on her back with her grandma standing behind her.
At the sight of her Mommy, Faith was quick to grin before running to you and into you arms as if she hadn’t seen you 4 hours ago.
You hugged your daughter, pressing a kiss to her hair as you did. “Did you have fun?”
Faith nodded before she pulled away from the hug, still keeping her arms around you, “What about you? Did you have fun, Mommy?”
You almost blushed as you remembered, opting to reply a simple reply instead of getting into details. “I did. Ready to go?”
//
After giving Faith a shower and giving yourself one, too, you and Faith were sat in the comfort of your cozy apartment, sitting on the couch and watching The Greatest Showman for the umpteenth time seen as it was Faith’s favorite. With her cheddar cheese and lettuce sandwich in her right hand and favorite dinosaur toy in the other – a “Megalosaurus not a T-Rex, Mommy” – Faith was cuddling into your side while one hand of yours played with her wild hair as the other tapped absentmindedly on your phone’s screen, eyes set on the television.
“And if it’s crazy, live a little crazy.” Faith sang along with Hugh Jackman, eyes wide as if she was seeing the movie for the first time.
“You can play it sensible, a king of conventional.” You joined her, peppering kisses on her cheek causing her to squeal and giggle.
As Faith sang along with the song, you opened your phone’s camera before switching it to video, flipping the camera so that it was the front one. You started recording, the screen showing you your face as you smiled with pride, tilting it so Faith was shown as she sang, unaware of you recording.
Only 12 seconds into the video, a message pop-up had your eyes traveling to it, falling on a text preview from none other than the young man you were with that day – Harry.
‘Hey, Y/N. Sorry to bother but would you be able to send me that lemon toast recipe? Might treat myself to it tomorrow morning. Sorry for the bother. :) Harry’
After stopping the video and opening the text and reading it, if it weren’t for Faith, you wouldn’t have known that you had a grin on your face.
“Why are you smiling so big? Did Auntie Cece send a picture of her cat?” She had asked, looking up at you with curiosity.
Looking down at her, you laughed slightly at yourself. “No, she didn’t.”
“You look happy.”
There were many things you loved about your daughter, many things you were in awe at. As only a kid, Faith was one of the most empathetic people in your life and that moment as you both cuddled on the couch was proof.
With a matching grin, Faith’s eyes twinkled with glee at the sight of her smiling mom, curious to know the reason.
“They aren’t singing This Is Me yet!” Faith added, knowing that the both of you usually laughed and giggled while singing that song, only because you always sang it so dramatically and at the top of your lungs.
“Just happy you’re finally done with the sandwich because now I can do this!” And with that, you tickled her, Faith breaking into laughter and giggles as she tried to stop you.
5 minutes later, Faith was back to watching the movie while you typed a reply.
‘hey, harry! it isn’t a bother 😊 i’ll write it down and send it in a moment :))’
‘Thank you! x’
And you wrote it down and sent it to him, adding little notes, too just to make sure that he perfected the toast.
‘let me know how that goes for you :) x’
‘Will do, love. Talk to you soon. Goodnight :) x’
‘goodnight, harry x’
As if your little love took that as a sign, you looked down at her as you felt her body grow heavier against you and noticed her breath get steady, seeing her eyes closed as she snoozed.
Carefully, you turned off the television before holding her with your arm so she didn’t fall down as you stood, bending to carry her before kneeling a little to grab her fallen dinosaur, letting out a tiny groan as your back ached.
Tucking her in her bed, you sat beside her for a moment, brushing her hair back softly before bending to kiss her forehead.
“Story?” She sleepily asked, struggling to open her eyes.
You chuckled, “You’re already asleep, nugget.”
She hummed, still struggling to open her eyes, “Okay. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” You smiled before standing up, walking towards her small vanity and turning on her star light lamp.
Just as you were out of the door, you lingered, turning to look back at your daughter, “Was I really smiling big?”
In her sleepy state, Faith managed to reply. “Very big, Mommy.”
You chuckled to yourself and shook your head before walking out and towards your own room.
//
Harry felt like a kid. He was too excited that morning to get up and get on with his breakfast, wanting to deny that it wasn’t because he wanted a reason to text you, but who was he trying to lie to? No one, he was alone.
He followed the recipe, chuckling and laughing to himself during some moments when he was about to fall for some mistakes before reading your notes and saving his toasts, as if you were sitting right there and monitoring him.
His playlist was playing from his phone that he held in his hand, and he was humming along as he placed the two toasts on a plate before adding some powdered sugar to them and grabbing his juice.
Before eating, Harry had taken his time in taking a picture of his breakfast, thankful for the natural light his kitchen window was giving for his little photoshoot.
He was just as much nervous as excited as he sliced up a piece before taking a bite, taking his time to taste his work and his eyebrows shot up and he blinked twice in surprise.
It was so good.
While eating another slice, Harry held his phone and opened his messages app, going to your contact.
Attaching the best picture from his breakfast photoshoot, he added a text with it,
‘Tastes incredible! Would have burned it to coal if it weren’t for your notes hahah x’
And he put his phone back on the table, open at your messages as he continued eating while listening to music.
He was mid-sip of his juice when you replied and Harry hated how excited he got because the next thing he knew, he was having a coughing fit that had him go tearful before finally calming down.
‘looks incredible, too! oh trust me, i know. burned a fair amount of toasts on my own so i decided to spare you the damage. you’re a quick learner :)) x’
That morning, you and Harry exchanged multiple texts, drifting from his breakfast to how you both wished to have dogs.
It was around 4 when you were driving back with Faith from her gymnastics practice when Harry called, thankfully just as you were unlocking the door to your apartment.
“Hey.” You smiled to yourself as you answered, taking off your shoes by the door beside Faith’s before closing the door behind you, watching as Faith went to the bathroom to wash her hands.
“Hi,” Harry, too, was smiling to himself as he held the phone close to his ear, “I was walking around and I found this tiny restaurant that reminded me of where you took us yesterday and, apparently they make the best Italian pizza. Was wondering if you wanted to grab pizza with me and we can talk about, you know,” he chuckled, “The sessions.”
You thought, mind instantly going to who would watch Faith as you went before your eyes fell on your daughter who came back, whispering to you if she should wait for you in the bathroom seen as you were on the phone.
“One second,” you said to Harry before moving the phone from your ear and muting the sound, “Yeah, baby, do that. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
You unmuted, “Hey, sorry about that.”
“No worries.”
He was growing nervous at how you were yet to reply to his suggestion, having already had been nervous enough to suggest and call in the first place.
“Pizza and talking sound lovely.”
He released a breath, smiling to himself. “Great, great! Pick you up at 6?”
“Sure, yeah. 6 is great. I’ll go now. See you soon, Harry.”
“See you soon, Y/N.”
You didn’t trust strangers to watch your daughter, didn’t exactly trust strangers in your house unattended, too. It’s why at times when you couldn’t drive the 40-minute drive to your mom’s, your best friend, Cece, was always your go-to and that was especially nice because she also lived two buildings away.
Cece’s job was one from her home, making food and delivering it to people while she managed her business on her own through social media and it was why most of the time, she was home and always happy to have her goddaughter keep her company.
After calling Cece to make sure she was okay with babysitting Faith for some time and her assuring you that she was, you prepared dinner for your daughter after giving her a shower.
“Are you sure you’re okay with me leaving, baby?” You asked as you sat with Faith while she ate the pasta you made her.
It wasn’t frequent of you to leave Faith for anything but work. Maybe for a night out with some friends every now and then but you always went out with them for 3 hours tops before you began feeling guilty for leaving your daughter and going back to get her so you can spend time together instead.
And it wasn’t like you were frequently going on dates either. Cece had pushed you into it when Faith was 2, and you did go out a few times with different people, all whom you never heard of whenever they knew that you had a daughter and then you decided that maybe the single mom life was just too welcoming of you.
Hell, you didn’t know whether you should call having pizza with Harry a date. It wasn’t, was it? Not that you’d mind but it was for business, wasn’t it? Strictly business. Or maybe it wasn’t and that was fine by you- and now you were beginning to feel like a teenager again. Great.
“Mommy,” Your 4-year-old huffed, rolling her eyes, “I’m a big girl. You should have more fun.”
You couldn’t believe that you were getting advice from a 4-year-old, especially your daughter, but you deserved that.
“When did you get so big?” You rhetorically asked, “Thank you for being understanding, Nugget.”
Faith smiled at you, kicking her legs as she ate. “Where are you going?”
Now that question you weren’t prepared for, as much as you thought about it.
You couldn’t risk telling too much to Faith, knowing that she got excited over new people and couldn’t risk disappointing her if Harry ended up being, well, not one to stick or friendly to kids of single moms.
But at the same time, your daughter was your best friend. It was because of your honesty with her and how you acknowledge her and treat her that she was an understanding and empathetic person who could hold a conversation.
“Well, you know Harry Styles? The man who sings Canyon Moon?” You asked, knowing that that song was on her top favorite songs list after she had heard it once on the radio as you were driving her to her practice.
She nodded, “The pretty man with drawings?”
She had been curious to see the face behind her favorite song and once you showed her a picture, her smile got big and she had said that he was “very pretty” and had “nice drawings that she wanted to color in” meaning his tattoos.
You chuckled, “Yes, that one.” Again, Faith nodded. “Well, I’m helping him with his songs and I’m going to have dinner with him tonight.” You said, crossing your arms on the table.
Faith dropped her fork, looking at you with wide eyes and an open mouth, causing you to laugh heartfully at your daughter. “Mommy, really?!”
You nodded, opening your phone’s camera to record her, Faith not caring.
“Mommy you’re meeting Harry Styles!”
“I am,” you laughed, “Are you happy?”
“Very happy I’m going to cry!” She gasped, “Can I see him? Please, Mommy, please!”
“I don’t know, Nugget. I might have to ask him.”
“Do you think he’ll say no?” She frowned, “I can wear my Harry dress!”
And by her Harry dress, she meant the Fine Line black tee you had bought her, and even though it was sized small, she was only a toddler so you had resulted for her to wear it as a dress after you had trimmed it and its sleeves and had your mom fit it as tight as she could without damaging it. Needless to say, whenever your daughter wore the oversized tee dress, you had to snap multiple pictures of her because she always looked too adorable and fashionable in it.
“I don’t know what he’ll say but I’ll ask him. And yes, you can. You always look adorable in it.” You smiled, still recording her.
“Can you tell him I love his songs? I love Canyon Moon so much an-Oh! And Sunflower, too!” She grinned, “Are you going to show him this video?” Faith asked as she looked at you.
You shrugged, “You want me to?”
She nodded excitedly before looking at the camera, “Mr. Harry, I love you very much, sir. I hope I can see you but Mommy said she’ll ask you so please say yes. Make Mommy happy, not sad. Goodnight, sir.”
Your heart might have as well exploded that moment as she waved before you ended the video.
As if he was waiting for you to finish, your phone began ringing the moment you stopped recording, finding Harry calling you which made you instantly pick up the moment Faith began eating again.
“Hey, do you like strawberries?” He asked, the moment you picked up.
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion but a silly smile took over your face nonetheless, “Uh, yes?”
“Alright, great. I’ll see you soon. Bye!”
//
To make matters easier, once Harry had texted you that he was 2 minutes away, you grabbed your bag and left your apartment and into the elevator before walking outside your building, just in time to see a yellow Ferrari Dino pull up.
You smiled at him, watching as he parked before getting out, “Did I keep you waiting for long?” He asked as he approached you.
“No, just came down.” You answered, watching as he reluctantly slightly opened his arms. He was a hugger.
You wrapped your arms around him in a greeting hug, taking notice of how good he smelled. Just as good as he looked; he was in off-white textured knit Wales Bonner polo, paired with his Gucci flared denim pants and off-white Converse. Nobody should be allowed to look that good in casual clothes.
It wasn’t like Harry’s mind wasn’t doing flips at that moment, too. Instead of smelling like overpriced perfume, you smelled like coconut and roses; a refreshing smell that made Harry’s smile deepen enough for his dimple to make appearance. You, too, were in casual clothes; violet colored cropped culottes, a white tee tucked inside, white sneakers on, a black and white cross-bag and your hair was up in a messy ponytail that was kept by a hairband but you wrapped a black and white head bandana around the band just for the looks.
You looked effortlessly beautiful.
You both walked to his car, Harry opening the door for you before grabbing something from the passenger seat before you sat – a bouquet of strawberries.
“Didn’t know what type of flowers you like so,” he said before extending the bouquet towards you with sweetest and giddiest smile, “Hope that’s okay.”
You almost melted, your face changing to a pout as your head tilted to look at him while you accepted the bouquet, “This is so nice of you. Thank you, I love it.”
Alright so you don’t get strawberry bouquets to people you aren’t going on dates with, right?
The ride to the little pizzeria was nice – comfortably nice. You had shared the strawberries there and your stomach did a thousand flips when you offered Harry one only to have him open his mouth,
“I’m driving.”
And then he opened his mouth again, biting the strawberry you offered with your hand, laughing when it was about to drip on him if it weren’t for your fast reflexes – thank motherhood for that – as you held out your other hand beneath his chin.
By sharing strawberries, you mean you ate some as well as fed Harry some.
You both mentally took notice of how conversations flowed so effortlessly between you, as if you had met years ago and not just a day. Hell, even the texts were random and messy as well as entertaining and fun.
The drive wasn’t a long one, only about 20 minutes before Harry was parking in front of a place called ‘La Pizza’.
You both went outside the car, you waiting for Harry by your side as he walked towards you.
You might as well have melted right there and then when you felt Harry’s hand, very gently, on your back. It was very gentle, you almost didn’t notice and you felt that he was just making sure that he wasn’t making you uncomfortable but it was a reflex action of his. Nonetheless, you appreciated the concern and decided to show him that it was okay to touch you when you touched his arm as you both walked through the door.
Harry gulped, feeling hot as you touched him and he almost scolded himself because it only lasted for a second, yet there he was, getting flustered already. What the fuck was going on with him?
A waitress greeted the both of you, smiling widely as she motioned for you to follow her inside the place.
“There are more tables on the roof, would you want to check that?”
Harry looked at you the same moment you did at him, both of you nodding to each other to say that you wouldn’t mind.
“That would be great, thank you.” Harry said, smiling politely at the waitress who nodded and walked in front of you with the both of you following her up the stairs, Harry’s hand now more comfortably on your back as he walked behind you.
The roof was beautiful; cliché but beautiful fairy lights of small globe bulbs hung above the place, only 3 tables there, each at a good amount of distance from each other.
“Would you want to sit here or downstairs?”
Harry looked at you, you giving him a nod. “Here would be fine.”
The waitress nodded before guiding you towards a 2-chaired table. Harry had sat you down first before moving to his chair.
“Thank you.” You both said in unison as the waiter placed 2 menus in front of the both of you.
“I’ll be back to take your orders.” She smiled before leaving.
“Looks good.” You smiled at him before looking down at the menu.
“Didn’t know they had a roof.” Harry said, “This saved me.” He chuckled.
You looked up with confusion, “Saved you from what?”
Harry shrugged, now growing nervous. “Uh, wasn’t sure if taking you out for the first time here was chivalrous enough because it felt too casual, like a friends thing and not a date but now here seems right.”
He wished the ground he was on would split and swallow him whole. Wished to crawl up a hole and cry.
There were things he was practicing on on the way to you; like how he would hide that he was a nervous wreck, how he was excited to spend time with you, how he knew almost every single song you worked on, and finally, how he wouldn’t spill that he thought that was a date, no matter how much he wanted it to be.
You were amused. Contrary to how Harry truly felt, you thought it was nice that he was straightforward.
“Figured this wasn’t too casual the moment you gave me the strawberry bouquet, Harry.” You smiled, assuring him that you were okay with this being a date.
Looks like it wasn’t business after all.
Harry chuckled, raising an eyebrow, “That was nice, wasn’t it?”
You laughed, “Yes. Don’t think I was ever given a bouquet of fruit so yeah. Really nice.”
You both went through the menu, commenting on some plates and ingredients as you did and contemplating together.
“Maybe we should just get two pizzas and share, so we can try more than one option.” You suggested.
“Good idea.” He agreed, “What do you think of Quattro Formaggi?”
“Ooo, yes.” You then pointed on another topping, “Pizza Melanzane?”
“Yes.” Harry closed his menu with a nod.
Shortly after, your waitress came back and took your order before leaving.
“Finished a song yesterday.”
Your eyes widened as you took a sip of water before putting the glass back down, “Really?”
Harry nodded, “Yeah. A new one.”
“You mean you wrote a new one? Not finished writing one you already had?”
Again, he nodded, putting his arms on the table. “New. Very much new.”
You grinned at him, “That’s amazing. What is it about?”
Alright maybe he didn’t think that one through. He did write a song the previous night and he was proud of it and his gut did tell him that it would make it to the list of his next album, but telling you about it on your first – and he hoped it wasn’t the last – date? Well, not so ideal.
“It’s about opening up to someone new. Trying love again and unraveling yourself to the other person.”
Maybe it was because of your situation, but your breath hitched in your throat.
“You know when you get fucked from an ex and love as whole and you think that you don’t want to go through that again and you, like, close off,” Harry explained, “And it’s like you’re immune to feeling any sort of love or interest in anyone after that. Sure, maybe some sexual attraction here and there, but never something wholesome, you know?” He motioned with one of his rings clad hands as he talked, “But then you meet someone and you feel like a teenager or something,” he chuckled, “And it’s a nice feeling, it’s wonderful, that you start thinking that, hey,” he tilted his head, “Maybe I can do this again.”
You were speechless.
You were a woman of words, hell, you worked with words, but right then, you barely remembered the alphabets.
“You- You get me, right?” Harry asked.
You broke out of your trance, nodding absentmindedly, “Yeah, yeah, I,” you paused, an airy chuckle leaving your throat, “Man do I get you.”
He smiled in amusement, “Relatable?”
“Too much, you had me by surprise.” You answered honestly, releasing a breath.
It wasn’t a surprise to Harry that somebody broke your heart; it was always the good ones who got their hearts broken and got fucked over, always the givers.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling of shock at who would possibly have you at arm’s length, with the ability to kiss and cuddle you, and decide to break your heart?
See, maybe Harry had just met you but you know when you meet someone good. Someone kind. Especially when you’re in an industry that is full of shitty people and too many cold snobs.
“When was it?”
You understood his question, understanding that he meant to ask you about when your heart got broken – when somebody fucked you over.
“5 years ago.” You answered, “You?”
“2.”
“Cheers.” You joked, raising your glass of water to clink it to his, chuckling when he did clink them.
“5 years is a long time.” He commented, gentle with his tone as were his eyes.
“It is,” you agreed, “Got over him, really.”
“You met someone after?”
His question made you think again of your answer, causing you to giggle before correcting yourself, “Got over him as a person but not over the whole thing.”
Harry chuckled, “So no.”
You shook your head, “No. Didn’t have the heart to.” And even though your sentence carried double meanings, you took a mental note of that same sentence just for future songwriting sessions. “What about you? Met anyone after it?”
“Not really,” he shook his head, “Friends set me up with some people but it never went further than a day.”
“You don’t click?”
“No,” Harry answered before a small smile made its way to his face, “I didn’t.”
Your face grew hot, breaking eye contact to glance beside you for a moment.
“How long did it take to write that song yesterday?” You asked, turning back to look at him, growing more flustered to see that he was already looking at you with the same smile.
“Think 25 minutes.”
Your eyes widened, “Inspiration really did hit you, Harry, huh?”
“Grabbed the journal and guitar and I just ran to the studio at home, and it just,” he shrugged, “Happened.”
“Let it keep hitting you like that and we won’t be working together.” You said with a smirk.
“Then I’ll purposely distract myself whenever it hits me so I can see you.” Harry was quick to reply, a smug smile of his own on his face.
“Oh my God.” You whispered under your breath, shaking your head as you covered your face, hearing Harry laugh before feeling his hands on yours, guiding them down.
Shortly after, your waitress was back with your orders; both pizzas looking mouthwatering.
You and Harry decided against utensils, exchanging slices with your hands and granted, as Harry had said, they did make the best Italian pizza.
//
After the pizza and paying, you and Harry had grabbed ice cream from the parlor right next to the pizzeria before sitting in the car, remaining parked as you laughed about everything and anything.
“And I had no idea that Paul McCartney was right behind me the entire time. It was awful!” You finished, laughing more at how hard Harry was laughing at your story.
“Would’ve changed my name and moved out of this planet if I were you.” He teased you as he regained his breath.
“Oh, shut up!” You laughed, rolling your eyes at him.
Harry laughed, reaching out to place a hand on yours, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Embarrassing shit happens to me everyday, too. On stage is the worst.”
You tried to ignore the tingly feeling that rushed within you at his hand over yours, but good heavens, you were a goner. “The falls?”
“At some point I thought it was good my tour got postponed because I see myself falling during most of the songs. Imagine Watermelon Sugar, I’d be a clown.”
You laughed, “Probably so,” you teased him, batting your eyelashes jokingly when he feigned shock, “But really, you’re an amazing performer. I actually have been to one of your shows once.”
Harry’s eyes widened and as did his smile, “No way.”
You nodded, “The one in Glasgow in November.”
“You’re telling me that we were in the same room and-“ Harry paused, shaking his heads as he let out a chuckle of disbelief, “Wow. Alright. Did you have anyone with you?”
“Was just me and Faith.” You answered nonchalantly, only realizing once you did before your looked intently at Harry.
“Is that a best friend?” He asked, “Did they enjoy the show?”
“She did, yeah. Very actually,” You chuckled, remember how surprised you were at how 2-year-old Faith at the time was actually very interested and was dancing in your arms the entire time. “And she is my best friend at some point but she’s my daughter.”
You didn’t know what you were expecting but you definitely weren’t expecting Harry to grin excitedly.
“You have a daughter?”
“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, a small smile on your face as you inspected him, “I do. She turns 5 in December.”
Harry only seemed to get more excited at the news, which made your heart flutter at the sight of.
“Do you have a picture?”
“Yeah, of course,” you smiled more then, eager to show him your beautiful girl before unlocking your phone and opening your photos album, only to find the most recent addition to it – the video. “Hey, actually, she wanted me to show you something.”
You gave Harry the phone to watch better, most of the time keeping your eyes on him. Harry’s cheeks sported a shade of red at how highly your daughter spoke of him, laughing and giggling to himself as he watched.
“Nooo, I won’t say no. I’d love to meet her.” He cooed, continuing to watch.
As the video ended, Harry handed you back the phone, “Please let me meet her. And what’s that Harry dress?”
And so you told him about your adventure with the tee, to which his heart seemed to grow a thousand times more at.
“I wasn’t aware kids loved me, I’m sorry you couldn’t find her size.” Harry frowned, feeling genuinely bad.
“Hey, no,” you assured him, putting your other hand on his – that was still resting on yours – “Don’t worry about it. You don’t exactly sing the alphabetics, Mr. sex-inspired-my-last-album-and-I-made-it-on-shrooms.”
Harry giggled, shrugging at you.
You both talked some more, only about Faith. Harry’s eyes were wide with admiration when you told him about how you raised her alone – also assured when he realized that the father wasn’t exactly in the picture even though his heart broke at that – and he showered you with compliments of how brave you were to raise a kid alone.
“Think I should head back now. I still need to pick Faye up from my best friend’s.” You said, leaning your head on the headrest as your body was turned towards Harry, his hand sandwiched between yours on your thigh.
“Can I help?” He asked, “Only if that’s okay. I don’t want to be crossing my limits.”
Your eyes searched his, growing emotional at the man in front of you. “Are you sure?”
Again with the double meanings.
That time, Harry noticed, his face softening as he looked back at you. Softly and ever-so-gently, he leaned to press a soft kiss on your cheek, “I’m sure.”
As he drove, you and Harry held hands on your thigh, the both of you singing along to Fleetwood Mac on your way.
As you gave Harry directions, he was absentmindedly rubbing your hand with his thumb. If you would have told him that he was doing that, he would have denied it; not because he wanted to deny it, but because it felt too natural that he didn’t realize he was doing it.
“Right here.” You pointed at a building, “She’s two buildings away. You can go, it’s a short walk.”
“I’ll wait for you here.” Harry said, parking before turning to look at you.
“Harry, seriously, you can leave if you want. I’m right there.” You pointed at your building.
“Nonsense, love. I’ll wait here.”
You sighed in contentment, giving his hand a squeeze before getting out of the car and into the building.
“Why did you not tell me that you were on a date with Harry fucking Styles?” Cece whisper shouted as soon as she opened the door, “Knew from Faith, you shit.”
“Because you’d overr-“
“He could be the one!”
“-react. You’d overreact and plan our wedding.” You teased your best friend, “Where’s Faye?”
“Won’t you come in for a drink?” She asked before turning, “Faith, it’s your mom!”
“Can’t. Uh,” you cleared your throat, “Someone’s waiting for me.”
“Some- No fucking way!” She exclaimed, muttering a “sorry” when you hushed her, “He-Harry is downstairs? Are you shitting me?” Cece excitedly asked.
You couldn’t stifle the smile on your face as you nodded.
Cece was about to talk some more before Faith appeared beside her, her backpack hung on one shoulder as she rubbed her eyes.
You knelt down, hugging her. “Hey, Nugget. You sleepy?”
Faith only nodded, wrapping her arms around you as you carried her, feeling her rest her head on your shoulder and you instantly knew that she slept.
“I’ll text you, alright?” You whispered to Cece.
“You better.”
Carrying Faith as well as having her backpack in one hand, once Harry saw you, he was out of the car and rushing towards you, taking the bag from your hand.
“Thank you.” You smiled thankfully, noticing how he walked beside you and guided you to the car, opening the door for you and sleeping Faith before closing it as gently as he could.
The lack of backseats made Harry place the purple backpack on his lap as he drove towards your building, a seconds drive.
He stopped the car and was out of his seat the moment he parked, slinging the bag on his shoulder before helping you out, taking your bag for you, to which you quietly thanked him for.
“Um, you can place the bags on my shoulders or something.”
“I can help you upstairs, come on. It’s no problem.”
You knew he was set on it and you let him, mostly because of how surprised you were that there were people who didn’t cringe and run the moment they knew the other person had a kid.
Harry did all the work; opened the building’s door for you, pressed for the elevator, pressed your floor number and had even taken out your keys once you told him to to unlock the door.
“Come in, come in.” You whispered.
Unsure of what to do, Harry walked inside and mirrored your actions by taking off his shoes before lingering.
“You can follow me.” You whispered again, turning around for a moment to look at him with a smile.
A quick take of the apartment was what Harry could do as he followed you, feeling an emotion of comfort and coziness engulf him as he did.
You were never less thankful for yourself for every time you changed Faith into pajamas before taking her to Cece’s, because it only made the process of tucking her in easier.
Harry had helped you by moving the covers so you could place Faith in bed before he stepped back, letting you tuck her in.
He smiled, watching how you seemed to shift around her or even when you just talked about her, like she was the most important person in your life and he knew that she was exactly that.
Faith was beautiful, and more often than not, you were glad that she got most of your looks and not her biological father’s because it only meant that he really was out of your life.
Harry noticed it, too. She had your nose, your lips, your facial outline, and your hair color. And from what he had seen in the video from when Faith was awake, she had your eye color.
You placed a kiss to her forehead before turning around, your eyes falling on Harry whose eyes were set on Faith with a ghost of a smile on his face.
His eyes came up to you and you noticed that he was still holding on to Faith’s backpack and was wearing your crossbag across his own chest.
You smiled as you grabbed the backpack from him and putting it aside on the floor before looking at him.
The only light in the room was from the hallway, making the room dimmed and making the both of you in a much more sentimental moment.
“They usually run away when they find about Faith.” You whispered, stepping closer to him, “Now is your cue.”
Harry’s eyes were on yours until they glanced at your lips, and butterflies erupted in your stomach at that.
“Thank God I’m not one of them, then.” He replied gently in a low whisper before he leaned closer, shamelessly looking at your lips.
It was you who took the final step, closing the minimal space between you by placing your lips on his.
His hands went to your waist as yours went to his neck, feeling him kiss you back softly but eagerly before pulling away from less than a second to tilt his head, getting a better angle before his lips were back on yours.
“Mommy?”
Pt. 2
#THE LONGEST I HAVE EVER WRITTEN#AAA WHAT DO YOU THINK#wellbeafinelime#Not One of Them#NOOT#harry styles imagine#Harry Styles#harry styles fiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles fic#fluff#fluff one shot#harry styles fluff imagine#harry styles fluff#single parent!reader#single parent reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
guess fucking what? my inbox is so fucking full right now i'm unloading all of this shit in one post.
For the 11th gotham memes: gothamites react to bruce being jacked in a tiktok he made with kids, like super yoked, ripped as hell
fucking hilarious thanks. i think i did it in one meme post, but i genuinely don't remember which one
i dunno which of the batfam would do this but one time i was sleeping over at a friends house and ended up on the floor bc the bed was so very small and i just stayed there because the rug was soft
that's a drunk jason move i don't know what to tell you
tim and jason are "i listen to pop punk" solidarity. whenever jason highjacks the batmobile theyll go on long ass car rides blaring mcr and paramore and then never talk about it again
as they should!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
tim: no jason it's my turn using the aux cord i gotta put on my jams
jason: don't you dare put on weird shit
tim: don't worry, you're gonna love this *plays fearless (taylor's version)
hear me out hear me out,
red hood stans 🤝 nightwing stans
t h i g h s
holy shit yes.
SNL au: Bruce breaks character when pretending to superman and says something like "I'm not superman! You've seen his gps!! It's from 2001!!!" @sabeanybabe
superman flies past the snl building the next day just to say 'actually it's from 2005, i'm not a heathen'
does your back hurt from carrying the batfam fandom
it hurts more from the exotic rock collection i keep in my backpack, but thanks for the concern.
I love your posts by why would you always leave the best parts in the tags?
as a treat for the people that check the tags ;) (and also because i'm committed to the short post aesthetic)
somehow your playlist was everything i never knew i needed. i mean it. this is my new favorite playlist.
and don't you dare get a new favourite playlist!
babe ur stoner tim playlist is exactly too perfect, earth is literally blessed by ur existence
babe thanks so much! i love my stoner tim playlist because it's just my usual playlist but people think it's an artistic choice that i put taylor swift and britney spears in there, when it's just what i unironically like listening to
JANDKSKDK BILLY RAY CYRUS ON THE STONER TIM PLAYLIST I LOVE IT IT
again it's not even an ironic choice, i know every single word and i genuinely like the song
The last chapter of Fundamentals of Casework has me crying at work. Thanks I love it @dudelookitsalesbian
oh babe, i'm sorry, but also, not sorry i love chapter 4 so much it's my lovechild with the 'mental illness' tag
soooo....stumbled on your tumblr by some stroke of fate??? read your DC fanfic first. which is PHENOMENAL btw. then found all the batmemes; the funniest thing EVER bc everyone forgets about regular old gothamites. kept scrolling and your blog pops up as recommended. clicked on the ao3 for shits and giggles and waddaya know?!?!? it's YOU!!! you're LEGEND!!!! ever seen that meme? it's a video of a cat that got into a baseball field and the two announcers get really invested in his escape attempt and start giving a play by play of the cat instead of the game. memeable moment: "GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!"
i seriously think about this ask every single day and it's so fucking funny to me that i've never seen the meme you're referencing, but i still find myself going 'GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!' whenever i see something funny. but wow i'm glad you liked this steaming pile of garbage
Fav dc character overall? And fav batfamily character?
don't ask me to pick between the loves of my life, but i can tell you i've cried about every single batfamily member and also wally west (my beloved)
What's your opinion on fans having a problem with batfam being "too big"? And some even claim that batfam is just "Bruce Alfred Dick Damian" and the rest of them are just "friends and allies" (source: reddit) Personally, I like batfam because of this reason but idk
stupid. a family can never be too big. i'm not that big a fan of like huge batfam stuff with everybody from every single universe, because as much as it's funny for bruce to have like 30 kids, it just feels a little too OOC for me.
This is the best tag I've seen involving the batfam, thanks for thinking of it
This is canon now @nctxrejects
lmao yeah i think at that point alfred has had to sit through like at least a dozen coming out talks and just has a pride flag collection in the attic that he pulls out whenever a kid comes out
idk why batfam hits different as compared to any other superhero family
bc it's found family and usually the other superhero families are almost all genetically related in one way or another
I don't know if you watch the umbrella academy but I saw your last post about batcest and saw the similarities. But the thing is (although I think it's weird) in TUA, they addressed it by saying "they were raised as weapons, not siblings" or something along those lines, which is simply not the case with batfam.
yeah i watched tua but i also thought it was ridiculous and they still treated each other as siblings so i didn't like the luthor/allison thing, and am glad they stopped doing that shit bc it fucking sucked.
Hot take: Batcest shippers are the same people who believe adopted siblings are not actual siblings
smoking hot take: batcest shippers are the people who watch 'my sister got stuck in the washing machine' porn
Duke was adopted by Bruce?
not technically no, but do i, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb, look like i care?
True story but I had to change my freaking name because it used to be "Damien" and most people would go "OH LIKE DAMIAN WAYNE" like please I'm just tryna live
true story, but i don't actually think of damian when i hear the name damian, literally the first thing that pops up is damian darkh like bruh what?
apparently dc comics company supported comic stores by giving out new titles and stuff during the beginning of the pandemic to help them run and I just think that's wholesome
ah yeah that's so fucking cool, still don't like dc, the company, because this world is a capitalist hellhole and we're all owned by warner brothers or disney with no in between.
ayo looking at tumblr head canons and finding out bruce is actually a terrible father is a punch in the gut
lmao yes, in like 50% of comics bruce is a terrible father and it gives me whiplash
oooh I just saw the jason todd vs winter soldier post and the real question is: batman vs iron man
while iron man has like hundreds of cases of armor, batman could throw out an emp and have the guy dropping out of the sky in 2 seconds.
dickfast = fastdick = quickdick = quickie
magnum hot take
hey bata(?) just thought I'd let you know I have copied the obnoxious emoji and Billy Ray post for use on simping men going forth
thank you 😘🌷 (@spacebarsidecar)
why would you do that to your followers???? i get why i did it, but why would you???
what is scarecrow made the nightwing funko pop himself, like those diy-ers that paint over other ones
oh god no, horrible take, horrible take, that's a disgusting thought oh no
I see your HC that Bruce and Oliver fucked and raise you this: Dick and Roy ALSO fucked
yes they did and it was a horrible moment for jason to find out dick has fucked both of his best friends
"at this rate bruce adds like 1 child to his family every decade or so" Duke is introduced in 2013, Damian as Damian, not as an unnamed child, in 2006. And he is already 14 years old, Robins rarely remain Robins after 16 😬 It looks like a new Robin and Batkid will appear in a couple of years
i mean i can't wait? but somebody will probably die first tho, we're due for another major character death. my money's on either cass or duke this time.
BRO you're so right all of your Bruce's ex headcanons are amazing but they aren't ships, that's kinda wild. Like I don't want any peeks into how their relationship was I just want to see everyone make fun of them
lmao YES it's just i love bruce being a slut, like good for him.
I am in love with your posts your honour thank you
omg thanks are we like,, gonna kiss now?
The justice league needs to have a meeting to discuss how many of their members/partners have slept with bruce. Because through a combination of cannon & fannon (if DC wasn’t homophobic) we have AT LEAST:
1) clark
2) lois
3) oliver
4) dinah
5) john
Thats not counting villains or random civilians @dudelookitsalesbian
yes yes yes, they'll have a yearly meeting about how many of their collective exes could be out for revenge and batman's list just keeps getting longer.
tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.
and what about it?
when steph's fighting livewire and she zaps her with lighting and nothing happens and then they both just. stand there awkwardly for a second and talk. yeah i couldn't stop laughing at that batgirl steph is the BEST
oh yeah that was fucking hilarious and i think it would be so cool and sexy of dc to give steph a little comic series,,, as a treat
Hi I absolutely adore all of yours "Bruce and Oliver very badly pretending they didn't fuck each other" memes
lmao i do too
I need you to know that “Bruce Wayne had frosted tips” is one of my favorite Bruce takes of all time it’s so galaxy brained. you’re right and you should say it
he also painted his hair blonde once when he was travelling and in conclusion, this is why he's being blackmailed by the gotham gazette.
you know my thing about gordon being branded as the only good cop in gotham is its a load of shit like arguably he's a good person and not working to screw people over or anything but the fact that he also works w. batman makes him a shit cop. like yea batman is better than the mob but its still illegal its still an abuse of power he just not making bank
babe, all cops are bad cops. (but yeah youre absolutely right, working with vigilantes makes you a shit cop, but also working against vigilantes just makes you an asshole cop yanno?)
ruh roh i think i’m about to add “so not yeehaw” every time i don’t like something
that's a very good vocabulary upgrade
somehow i feel like steph already knew. like babs obviously knew but i feel like bruce got high/drunk in front of steph and started telling his boarding school stories and steph was just like “oh you fucked up i’m never gonna forget this”
steph and bruce have weird uncle/rebellious niece dynamic and they just hang out sometimes and bruce will be like 'i once broke my arm when i tripped over a hedge when i was drunk so oliver drove me to the hospital on an electric scooter' and steph will just have to sit there with that knowledge in her head.
Hello I just wanted to tell you you are So right in all your steph opinions bc she is, in fact amazing and I think that's very sexy of you.
Ps. Your Bruce/Oliver fic is hilarious
babe, thank you so much and yes steph is amazing and i love her and she deserves the world and she's the best member of the batfam hands down. also thanks
In Supersons we see a couple of kids that are implied to be Damian and Jon's children and the boy has laser eyes and can fly, so I asume he's not adopted. The girl, who calls Bruce grandpa, can also fly, btw. So it's canon (probably by accident) that Jon can have kids and he must have married one of Bruce's kids. (I'm hoping for Damian, mostly because any other of his children would be waaaaaaaaaaaaay too old.) @artemisa97
lmao that was probably an accident seeing as jon is a 17 year old superhero in the year 3000 (by the jonas brothers)
You know, I'm a die hard fan of your memes, but I gotta say one thing: if Gothamites actually took gas mask everywhere with them, then the Scarecrow would just be a weird dude in a weird costume, and not a villain oh so scary. DC really should just takes notes from you.
bold of you to assume there's no gothamite anti-maskers
How does it feel being the funniest person on this app?
horrible, next question.
I can't listen to Green Day or Billy Joel without thinking of your post about how Bruce got arrested at a Billy Joel concert @nightwings-kid
yeah that's your mistake, i on the other hand can't enjoy billy joel without thinking about the glee rendition of 'uptown girl'
I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.
superman: so what do you do in your free time?
batman, thinking about the superman fanfiction he's writing on the batcomputer: i have no free time
bruce and oliver be like
boyfriends to co-workers 401k (do the justice leagues get 401ks??? not that bruce and ollie would need them, but-)
lmao yes just 400 thousand words of bruce realising 'oh dip oliver is such a fucking dumbass' (also i don't know what a 401 k is but i assume they don't?)
Gothamites would totally boo superman as he saves Gotham while batman is out. @meenje
he's like 'okay think about that next time you want to be saved from an alien octopus'
I just took long break from dc comics and I come back to see ric grayson ??
i think it's very cool and sexy of dc to see dick and just think 'you know what? let's just give him a traumatic brain injury' and then didn't develop his character in any real way
SPEAKING OF RIC GRAYSON, gothamites making confused memes out of ric grayson is much needed
'dick grayson is my taxi driver? can anyone explain what the fuck happened he looks like an italian plumber?'
i hate to say it but batfam are def "marvel characters" in that sense they are characters who are human but become superheroes unlike most dc characters who are gods trying to be human maybe this is why I like batfam
fair enough
#this is only like half of it#but at least you can get like a few answers#yanno fuck it#bataranswers#ask#asks#anon
216 notes
·
View notes
Text
Child I Will Hurt You
One of the weirdest things to Alcor about being a father was how automatically Toby trusted him.
Which really freaked him out because he didn’t feel he should be trusted to raise a child. After all, he was practically still a child himself.
(See the most updated version on AO3!)
===
The thing that scared Alcor the most about raising Toby was how fully the boy trusted him.
He’d experienced and marveled at that kind of trust before. When Mabel found him after that fateful day in 2012 and threw herself at him, sobbing with relief that he wasn’t gone after all, he felt it. When Stan took him and Mabel into his home a few years later, patted him on the back and said “It’s no problem, kid”, he felt it. When he warned Mabel that he shouldn’t be trusted with the triplets’ true names and Mabel shouted him right out of his self-flagellation, he felt it.
The first day he brought Toby home after finding him alone and shivering on the street, he felt something very different.
Panic.
Panic over who the child in front of him truly was underneath that thin layer of flesh. Panic over what would happen if he didn’t stop whatever Bill was planning. Panic as he remembered Weirdmageddon over and over again in complete, horrific detail.
“Listen kid,” he said, floating a few feet off the ground so he could better tower over the child, “no funny business, okay? You hear me in there, Bill?”
Toby only cocked his head, scraggly and unwashed golden locks tumbling away from his face to reveal his scarred eye. He still wore the half-scared half-curious look he’d had when he’d first caught the demon’s attention, but there was something else bubbling up. Something that tasted suspiciously like trust.
It really freaked Alcor out because he didn’t feel he should be trusted to raise a child. Trust was something you gave to adults who knew what they were doing, after all, and he was practically still a child himself.
Alcor grimaced, and lowered onto his knees so he could look the boy directly in the eyes. “I mean it. I’m watching you. I’ll know if anything bad happens.”
To his surprise, Toby smiled at that. “You can make the bad things stop?”
“Yes,” Alcor replied, his voice cracking like it hadn’t in centuries because he was already messing this up, he was sure of it. “N-no getting into trouble. Not on my watch.”
The boy’s face lit up, trust shining brilliant from both eyes, and before Alcor could tell what was happening, Toby had reached up and hugged him around the neck.
And the demon remembered
Bill’s little pipe cleaner hands iron-clad around his neck,
Squeezing the life out of him,
Blue fire rushing all over his body,
Over and into his soul,
Screaming until there was no more breath left in him,
And the little boy’s smile radiated such trust and hope that Alcor was left completely speechless.
“Thank you,” Toby squeaked, and Alcor felt it.
---
“Oh stars, I can’t do this, I can’t do this!” Alcor was in his human disguise, head in hands, elbows resting on the counter, rambling like the world was ending. “I’m way in over my head. Raising a child? Me? I mean I looked after Mabel’s triplets but this is so different…”
“...Sir?” The cashier’s hand hovered over Alcor’s head, unsure whether it was appropriate or comforting to actually pat him. “Are you alright?”
“No!” he fumed, lashing out and knocking over some of his groceries. “I have a six year old at home and he trusts me to look after him and keep him safe! How could this possibly have happened?”
“Uh…” The cashier peered behind the man to the customers in line, most of whom looked some degree of disgruntled or confused. She gave them a little wave to indicate that they should probably move to a different register, and then turned back to the man who appeared to be hyperventilating now. “Do you have a partner? Anyone who’s helping you?”
“Of course not, I’m alone, I’ve got no friends,” he moaned. “There’s no one who I trust enough to foist Toby off to. The poor boy has such bad karma -- he needs me to protect him from that or he’ll get eaten alive!”
“Well… it sounds like you’ve got the right instincts at least. You want to keep him safe.”
“That’s just it! I don’t!” Alcor picked his head up and the cashier saw streaks of a strange yellow liquid running down his face. “Everything I’m doing for him is just stuff I picked up from watching my sister raise her kids! I don’t have any kind of adulting instincts -- none at all! I transcended when I was fucking twelve and that’s where I’ll be stuck until the end of time. I’m just a pointless child! I’ve got too much power and no actual ability to help anyone!”
The cashier sighed and -- after the man nodded to say it was alright -- put her hand on his shoulder. “Listen, man, all of that stuff sounds normal.” (Except for the parts that made no sense to her at all but she opted to ignore them.) “No one knows how to raise a kid, and no one ever feels like they’ve grown up. You learn it as you go. Trust me, my kids ran me ragged and I had no idea what I was doing. But they turned out alright. So will yours.”
Alcor’s voice began to wobble, and he pressed gloved hands to his temples. “But he won’t! I’m developmentally frozen. I’m not capable of learning anything! Seriously, what kind of adult buys this much candy?”
She glanced at his cart, which indeed was half filled with Giddy Cowboys and Sneakers bars. “That is a lot,” she admitted. “I would not advise giving your kid that much candy.”
“What? No.” Alcor stopped sniffling and pulled a face like he’d just smelled poo. “That’s for me. I’m buying all these vegetables and milk and chicken for Toby. He’s a growing kid, he needs to eat healthy, get all those food groups in, you know. I’m not stupid. But I am childish for liking candy so much that I’d eat this much of it in a week! I mean, seriously! Oh stars, I’m hopeless!”
The cashier lifted an eyebrow and removed her hand. “You eat all of this… in a week?”
“I know, I know, I’m ridiculous!”
“That’s not what I meant,” the cashier cut in, before he could start gibbering again. “I’m just worried about your teeth. Your… teeth…” She trailed off as the man suddenly yawned, exposing two rows of jagged knives that could sink into her flesh in an instant. “Your, um, your- your-”
Alcor pulled a mirror out of seemingly nowhere and started picking at his teeth. “What, do I have something in them?”
The cashier’s eyes widened even more as the man’s gloves came off. “My… what pointy claws you have…”
“Thank- wait.” Alcor froze, one long blackened nail still pressed into his gum. “Wait a minute. Pointy. Sharp. Cutting and slicing and ripping open oh stars!”
“Um- um- um-” the cashier tried to say, but with every word she felt like she was shrinking until she’d be swallowed up by her clothes. “Slicing?”
Alcor shook his head furiously, and this time his fist was positively trembling when it came down onto the counter. “I haven’t child proofed the knife drawer in the kitchen!”
He flipped his hat off of his head and pulled out a wad of cash, which he then thrust into the cashier’s hands just as her lights went out. Before anyone else could react, he vanished into thin air, taking his groceries and the shopping cart with him.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before,” Alcor grumbled as he zeroed in on the offending drawer. He pulled it open and there they were -- obscene, dangerous implements that he was a wicked and cruel caretaker to have potentially exposed his child to. He couldn’t stop imagining what might’ve happened if Toby had tried to pull open the drawer and it had fallen on him -- couldn’t stop thinking about his little boy sticking his adorable hand in and receiving cuts and lacerations and awful, awful sobbing filling the house…
With a snap, child locks were in place. Alcor tested them out by trying to pull the drawer open -- and it took a few tries before even he was able to. Sighing with relief, he leaned against the counter and slid down to the floor. His feet bumped up against the shopping cart sitting in the middle of the kitchen, overflowing with Reece’s Mugs and Chortle Taffy and Quasarbursts.
He couldn’t do this. He was too irresponsible.
Alcor dug a hand into the cart and pulled out a candy bar. He sank his teeth into it, enjoyed the rush of sweetness that was almost as good as flesh and bone. Slowly he began to unclench his muscles -- even though his form was imaginary, the cramps shooting throughout his body still hurt. He slid down the counter a little further, almost letting his head touch the floor -- and then he noticed it.
The stairs.
Bolting upright, Alcor let the candy bar fall from his hand. The stairs. How hadn’t he thought about that before? What if Toby fell down and tumbled into the banister and lost his other eye? What if what if what if?
Not a minute later, the demon was wrestling with child safety gates, somehow struggling even with all of his considerable power just to get them to attach to the wall. At one point he tipped his jaw back and used his tongue to line the edges with spit, which then solidified like glue. The stairs had to be safe. He couldn’t risk Toby getting hurt.
And with that thought came even more thoughts that sent Alcor racing through the house. What if Toby slipped in the bathtub? What if Toby climbed on top of the fridge and couldn’t get down? What if Bill slammed his arm in a drawer again and again and again and again until it was full of forks and then he poured soda into his eyes and laughed like a maniac while Dipper drowned in the vast emptiness of the Mindscape???
Alcor stiffened. He set down the intricate contraption he’d been building to keep Toby safe from wild animals in the backyard. And he looked into the mirror.
What was he doing?
This was Bill’s soul he was fretting over. It was always him, on the inside, and he’d known it from the very first day he’d seen the boy. He knew what was lurking beneath the surface, what kind of monster slept in that innocent form waiting until one day he could reach out and traumatize his father once more. Reach out and steal his beating heart, and laugh, and live, and die, and laugh, and live, and die, in a way he’d never be able to again.
A chill passed through Alcor’s body. Something had to be wrong with him, because he knew what Toby was and he’d spent the entire week worrying about the boy. Why did he care so much?
Quietly, he crept down the hall, and peered into the bedroom on the right. There he was -- the beast himself -- sleeping soundly in a bed decorated with race cars and rocket ships. A few more steps, and Alcor could see how small he looked, how even in his sleep he seemed so broken. And the demonic instincts that had rushed through Alcor since the day he’d gone up in flames were quelled, because every fiber of his being told him he needed to protect this child.
He rested a hand on the boy’s forehead, and watched him dream about running around in a field of grass, playing catch with his new father.
---
Thus started a new routine. A demon, trying day-to-day to take care of a small child. Playing grown up even though he felt so utterly unprepared for what he was doing. But Alcor’s life didn’t stop when he became a parent.
Neither did any of his other regular obligations.
“Oh, you’re asking for it now!” Alcor roared, jumping to his feet. “I’m gonna run you through with my sword! Die die die die!”
The dungeon master -- Damien -- peered over his half-rimmed glasses at the demon and smirked. “Not gonna work, I’m afraid. The slime beast’s armor is too thick to be pierced by a sword such as your own.”
Alcor gaped with disbelief. “Whaaat? I call foul play! You let Anushka do it!”
“Anushka’s sword has a fire enchantment on it. Slime armor is weak to heat.”
“Also, I said die five times,” Anushka added with a shit-eating grin on her face, jabbing Alcor in the side with her elbow. “Die die die die die!”
Alcor snorted and dropped back into his chair. “Well, you got me there.” He looked at the other players, disappointment rolling over into amusement. “Can I change my move or am I locked in?”
Damien shrugged. “Go for it. I don’t think you’ll be able to beat it this turn though, and you’ve only got one hit point remaining.”
Nat leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Yo, I’ve got an idea. You should defend this turn and try to survive the slime’s attack, and then on my turn I can fire enchant your sword.”
“Huh. Maybe…” He patted his head to get the spittle out of his ear, and surveyed the map of the dungeon they were in. Then he sat bolt upright in his seat, a large exclamation mark appearing over his head. “Damien. How many sword actions do I get this turn?”
Damien rolled a die. “Two.”
“Yessss. Okay. First, I lunge at the slime again! But with the blunt end of my sword so it gets knocked back.”
Damien rolled another die. “Yep. That works. Are you gonna use your free movement to approach it again?”
Alcor shook his head. “Nope. I’m gonna throw my sword -”
“Your sword doesn’t have enough piercing damage to make a difference from that distance, I’m afraid.”
The room’s dim lighting glinted off of razor sharp teeth. “- at the cable holding up the chandelier.”
Anushka and Nat dropped their pencils, and looked straight up, momentarily forgetting that they were not actually in the dungeon they were traversing. “You what?”
Damien rolled a die again, and sucked in a sharp breath. “Alright. The chandelier falls onto the slime beast before it can react. It quickly catches on fire, leaving it too weak to attack. Congrats!”
Beaming, Alcor scribbled some numbers on his character sheet. “Heck yeah. No slime beast is strong enough to get one past the Dreambender.”
“You’re so creative, Al,” Nat said. “Seriously, wow. I never would’ve thought of that.”
He wove off the compliment. “Naw, I’m just basically a large child. Being silly and immature is what they’re good at.”
Looking up over his dungeon master partition, Damien furrowed his brow. “Why do you say you’re immature -”
There was a ringing in Alcor’s head -- a tug on a bond -- and he held up his hand. “Wait, hold that thought. Speaking of children, my kid’s calling me. I’m gonna have to leave early this week.” He stood up, and did a dramatic bow. “I’ll see ya all next week! Don’t lose my summoning circle!”
Toby -- lying flat on the floor of the Mystery Shack -- perked up at the sight of his adoptive father walking through the door. Tyrone looked about as human as they come -- a man in his mid-thirties with soft brown eyes, no wings, and feet that always touched the ground. He opened his arms and Toby came running to hug him.
Right away there was that trust again, that total trust that Alcor still couldn’t believe he deserved. How could someone like him -- someone who’d just spent two hours playing a tabletop role playing game and laughing about memes -- be trusted to take care of a child?
Gingerly, he took Toby into his arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “How are you doing?”
“I’m boooooooored!” Toby whined. “Can we play a game? I wanna play pretend!”
Chuckling, Alcor put Toby down and then sat beside him on the floor. “Sure thing, kid. You know, I’m pretty good at playing games like that. I was playing one with my friends earlier today.”
Toby’s jaw dropped. “Whoaaaaa! You have friends?”
A vein bulged in Alcor’s forehead. “Of course I- never mind. What’s the game, kid? What are we pretending?”
Toby jumped up and started pacing in a circle. “I wanna make up a story! It’s gonna be great! I’ll be the hero and you’ll be the bad guy -- an evil king who wants to kill all of the good people in the land! Is… is that okay?”
There was a mirror mounted on the wall behind where Toby had been sitting. Without the boy in his way, Alcor found his gaze fixed on it. He could see Toby gesturing as he walked and he could see the nostalgic decorations hanging on the wall of the Shack. But there was no Tyrone to speak of.
It took a moment for him to realize that Toby was talking to him. “What? Oh yeah. Of course, kid. I’ll be the bad guy.” He took a deep breath, discarding the voice in his head that furiously objected to him being the villain to Bill’s hero. “What’s my motivation?”
Toby cocked his head. “Moti- what?”
“What’s my backstory? Why am I evil?”
The boy continued to stare at him with a blank look on his face. “You’re evil cause you’re the bad guy and bad guys are evil!”
“That’s kinda boring- never mind.” Alcor grimaced and looked back at the mirror. “So you’re the hero, eh? How are you going to defeat me? What’s the hero good at?”
“Everything!!!!” Toby squealed, and his reflection grabbed onto something invisible. “The hero is the good guy so I should always win and I’ll have all of the magic and the biggest swords ever!”
Alcor shifted so that Toby was hanging onto his shoulders rather than around his middle. “Everything? But if the hero always wins, what’s the point?”
“The good guy always has to win!” the boy chirped, squeezing tight around Alcor’s neck. “Always!”
Oh my stars this is so boring, Alcor thought. How fricking uninventive is Bill’s soul? Children are supposed to be good at being silly and creative. I guess all Bill’s soul can think about is being powerful again.
A figure stepped into the room on the other side of the mirror. It was short -- looked to be about 12 years old -- and had clawed hands, bat wings sprouting from its hips, and a fancy suit that looked out of place for someone so young. Alcor’s jaw dropped as he watched the figure pick up Toby’s reflection, pat him on the back, and then stare directly out of the mirror at the demon.
“This is a game for children,” the figure said in a low growl.
“What?” Alcor yelped.
Toby giggled at the interruption. “I said that all the evil people should die because they’re mean! No one should ever do a bad thing!“
“This is what children are like. They see in black-and-white because they know nothing about how the world works.” Cold, black eyes bored into Alcor’s skull. “Have you forgotten what that’s like?”
“B-but I’m silly,” Alcor stammered, sweat starting to drip down his face. “I’m irresponsible. I love playing games and coming up with interesting stories. Those are childish things for someone as old as me to be doing.”
“Dad?” Toby asked. “What are you saying? I can’t hear you.”
The figure sneered, baring two sets of sharp teeth uncomfortably close to Toby’s head. “Whoever told you that must’ve really hated the idea of growing up.” Toby stirred, and it spent a moment cradling him so he’d calm down. Then those eyes -- now bright and full of gold -- flicked back at the demon. “Who said it? Was it you?”
Alcor gasped and fell over. Toby shrieked as he suddenly found himself tumbling to the ground, and the sound broke Alcor right out of his trance. Quick as a whistle, he pirouetted and caught the boy in his arms, pulling him close to his chest in a tight hug.
“Oh no, oh Toby, are you alright?” he fretted. “Did you get hurt?”
“I’m okay!” Toby squeaked, his face pressed against Alcor’s collarbone. Alcor loosened up on his hug, and took in Toby’s smile. “That was fun! You always catch me! That’s how I know you’re really a good guy.”
“I’m a good guy?” Alcor gulped, and glanced back at the mirror. This time he saw himself, in his present human disguise, holding Toby close, and looking so, so utterly responsible. It freaked him out.
“...Dad?” Toby asked, brow crumpled. “Daaaaad what are you thinking?”
“I think…” Alcor sighed, and gave his son a little kiss on the forehead. “I think it’s time you got some friends your own age.”
---
From that day on, things were a little different.
Alcor bought a house in the physical plane, because a memory of a shack in the Mindscape was no place to raise a child.
“Dad?”
He doctored forms and documents so it not only looked like a certain Tyrone Pines actually existed, but also that he and his adopted son Tobias Pines were legal residents of a sleepy town in the middle of Washington. This let Toby attend school with kids his own age.
“What is it, Toby?”
He went to the library on the weekly to check out parenting books, having long exhausted the meager supply of advice his omniscience had to offer -- as it turned out, parenting was very much a learn-as-you-go experience with few absolute truths to guide you.
“What’s a demon?”
Alcor froze, his hand halfway in the process of turning a page in his book. He started to turn his head around to look at the boy, and remembered just in time to turn his body around with it.
“Where did you hear that?” Alcor asked carefully.
Toby kept his head down, opting to study his father’s shoes instead of his face. “I, um...”
There it was again, that emotion bubbling up inside of Alcor, that instinctual distrust he couldn’t help but feel for the soul who had once taken everything from him. It was all he could do not to jump up and yell “Aha! Caught you red-handed, Bill! I knew you were in there all along!”
He got out of his chair and knelt in front of the child, using a finger to gently raise the boy’s head so they could see eye-to-eye. “You can tell me,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”
Alcor saw Toby reach into that pure, automatic trust he had for the monster who was raising him. The boy gulped, and squared his shoulders.
“Um... Devon’s dad said it to Devon.”
Alcor blinked. “Is that so? Devon, the kid in your class who asked you to play baseball with him?”
Toby nodded. “H-he was asking me again, and I know you said I wasn’t allowed to, but he started showing me anyway. He got his bat and swinged it and it looked really cool. Then his dad yelled at him and said ‘Devon, you little demon, cut that out right now!’“
Alcor could only stare, mouth agape, in response. Toby started to tremble as he continued speaking. “Then Devon’s dad took the baseball bat and Devon got really sad and I didn’t know what it means but it looked bad and I don’t want to be a little demon and I’m really really sorry I said I wanted to play baseball I don’t want to be a demon I don’t I don’t -”
He cut off with a squeak as his father took him into his arms and hugged him tight.
Alcor was a being with access to more power and magic than almost anything else in the universe. He could level mountains, he could turn cities inside out, he could institute universal basic income on the moon with a snap of his fingers.
But when he held Toby in his arms, when he saw the awestruck look on the boy’s face when he played the violin for him, when he listened to Toby babble excitedly about whatever he’d learned in school that day, Alcor felt powerful.
All of his magic crumbled beneath the obscene power granted to him by way of this child’s trust in him. He had the power to protect this child, to support and encourage him to grow up to be the best person he could be. He could also betray Toby’s trust so, so easily.
He could punish his son for no reason if he needed an emotional pick-me-up. He could disregard the boy’s concerns and laugh in his face. He could even raise his voice just a little too much, caught in a moment of frustration, and leave Toby wincing in distress -- an ephemeral moment in Alcor’s life but an upsetting and formative moment in Toby’s which could forever mar their relationship.
That would be childish. That would be immature of him.
Alcor had killed reams of cultists, had bestowed disturbing curses on people who’d only sort of deserved it, had terraformed the western coast of the United States in a fit of rage. He’d done a lot of horrible things with his magic, but.
This power, this power he had to shape Toby’s life.
This power horrified him.
“You’re not a demon,” Alcor said, (and it felt so unfair to be saying that to him of all people -- so cruel and dirty that he wanted to scream until his hair fell out. But he didn’t.)
“Don’t cry,” (even though no one had held him when he cried that day in 2012, because he’d simply slipped through their fingers, and he wanted to repay that favor. But he didn’t.)
“Daddy’s here,” he whispered, before kissing Toby’s tears away. “You’re not in trouble.”
The words came so naturally, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. As if he had the experience to understand what was upsetting his son, and the power to make it better. As if he had the maturity to push past his own conflicted feelings, because he was an adult, and this was a little child.
He set Toby down, and kneeled to meet his eyes. In that moment, he felt tall. Sort of grown up.
Toby sniffled. “You’d never yell at me? Even if I do something wrong?”
Alcor thought once again back to the day he’d seen Bill Cipher on the side of the road. Thought about the furious, vengeful part of him that enjoyed the boy’s suffering because that’s what he deserved. Remarked on how the universe had served him up his greatest enemy in the most vulnerable form possible, giving him the opportunity to take Toby’s trust and do unspeakable things to him.
“Sure thing, kiddo,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I promise.”
Remembered how he’d instead chosen love.
---
It was a dark and stormy night that found Alcor wandering the streets of a mostly-abandoned city.
He’d been summoned -- it always started with a summons -- and he’d been angry. It didn’t even matter what had made him angry, because there were so many things these days that people absolutely would not stop doing no matter how much he screamed and threatened and threw flaming balls of plasma into their twisted places of worship. They never learned. And neither did he.
Alcor couldn’t stand how many people had to die because of him. How many people were killed in his name. How many lives he’d taken with his own hands because he couldn’t seem to stop, like an immature brat who throws tantrums when things don’t go his way. He wondered if he could ever change, or if he was just stuck this way.
It was deep in these thoughts that the demon heard a little noise. A squeak, barely audible over the rain. He dismissed it at first, because his grand thoughts were more important than the world around him, and right after a bad summons was the perfect time for self-hatred. It felt good -- it was one of the only things that still did. He considered burning the entire city to the ground. Maybe that’d feel even better.
Something told him that it wouldn’t.
He heard the squeak again, his eyes darting over to a heap of trash bags between two buildings, and that’s when he saw him. A little boy with golden hair, no older than six. He was dressed in rags. He looked like he hadn’t seen a scrap of food in days. The left side of his face had been eaten away by flame, leaving it patchy and discolored.
Alcor had seen right through Bill’s disguise, of course. There wasn’t a meatsuit pitiable enough to blot out the sins his soul had committed. Perhaps that was why he had been abandoned on the side of the street to begin with -- karma was finally catching up with him. Alcor wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t. Something strange was going on inside of him. Some sort of instinct buried within him -- not one tipped with blood and claws, but one that creaked and groaned under centuries of exertion.
It was this feeling that prompted him to gather up the child in his arms. He felt how fast the boy’s heart was beating; saw in his past how much he’d been hurt without an adult to protect him. He knew that feeling well.
“It’s okay,” he murmured as Toby began to fuss. “Things will be better now. I’ll protect you. I might only be a child myself, but I promise I’ll protect you.”
One year later, one year of introspection, growth, and unbroken promises later, he had to admit he’d been wrong.
(AO3 link)
#gravity falls#transcendence au#dipper pines#alcor the dreambender#toby pines#tobias pines#fic#my stuff
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
How Longingly I Look Upon You
Fandom: The Mandalorian
Collection/Series: Western AU- Putting Down Roots
Pairing: Sheriff Din Djarin x Female Teacher Reader
Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long
Rating: G
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Valentine’s Day is a holiday you love, for it’s celebration of tenderness and appreciation. It matters very little that you never have a partner to share it with. This Valentine’s Day the Sheriff offers an opportunity, a potential, something you never thought he’d do.
Notes: This took me way too long to finish thanks to work, but I hope it was worth the nearly 2 month wait!
Archiveofourown
Comment and Feedback Form
Taglist Form
Mando’a Translations:
Ba’vodu - Aunt/uncle
Cyar’ika - darling/sweetheart (with Paz, i’m using this informally in a way you’d call your friends babe or love as a term of endearment but non-romantic)
Ne shab’rud’ni - don’t fuck with me
Cyare - beloved, loved
Mesh’la - beautiful
Cabur’ika - Lit. Little Guardian, but Din’s term of endearment for reader after ‘Never Mess With a School Teacher’ because she is a true guardian of her kids.
Mandokarla - having the ‘right stuff’ basically being truly mandalorian in spirit.
-------------
Valentine’s day was a holiday you actually quite enjoyed. It was a day to celebrate love, whether Eros, romantic love, Agape, unconditional love, Philia, affectionate love, or even Philautia, self-love. For you it had always been a day to celebrate the people in your life and while certainly you’d never had a suitor or a courtship during Valentine’s day, that hadn’t mattered so much. You filled your life with love for your family, even if they were now gone, love for your friends, and love for your students. It mattered very little in the end, Valentine’s day was a day for love in all its forms and for you, it was a joy. A joy to teach your students about the day, about the significance, to watch them create cards for their families, and see the red faces and giggling laughter when one of your students braved the walk across the classroom to hand a gift to another. Rather than dwell on what was missing, you chose to focus on all the joy that the day brought.
Today was no different, you had gone into your school house the day before. Spent your Sunday afternoon hanging red and pink bunting, crafty paper hearts and cupids. You wanted every holiday for your children to be worthwhile, to feel like a special day and part of that was decoration. The school house looked like a Valentine’s dream and the lessons for the day were to centre around the same theme. You would cover the history of Valentine’s day and St Valentine, work on mathematical problems in a Valentine’s context, create Valentine’s cards and write stories about great romances and read some of the best love poems that great poets had produced.
You had even gone with a colour scheme of red and pink for your outfit that day, despite your mother often saying you shouldn’t mix the two. Your dress was neatly ironed, almost gaudy in its Valentine’s nature, but fun. Your mother would have no doubt said that the lace and frills, the large puff sleeves, were all a bit much. Much too gaudy for you, a simple school teacher to wear. You wore it anyway because that was how you wanted it. Gaudy, happy, joyful, and overly extravagant for a day teaching. It was flattering, following your silhouette and grazing the ground gently. You had placed little delicate pink flower pins in your hair, surrounding your high updo. You had even rouged your cheeks, something which you rarely did anymore, usually much too busy.
You’re at the schoolhouse door smoothing down your skirts when you see the first of your childrens making their way down the main street. Lunch pails are flying behind them, skirts and ribbons whistling in the wind as they run. You greet each of your children with a bright smile and a ‘Happy Valentine’s day!’, like clockwork, as part of their routine they hang their coats, scarves and hats on the coat hooks by the door and settle into their seats, pulling out slates, books, pencils and chalk. They begin to chat amongst themselves as they wait for you and the lesson to begin. You had them well trained and so allowed them the time to chat knowing they’d listen up the moment you called for it.
Little Grogu is the last to arrive, running on little legs beside Din who always walks him to school in the morning before beginning his day as Sheriff. The little boy wraps his arms around your legs in greeting before wandering in with a wave to his father. While he can speak and you’ve witnessed it more and more, he is generally mute, preferring to use other forms of communication. You’ve noticed this little quirk of his, but don’t mind. If he would rather not speak that’s fine, so long as he’s progressing in his school work then you have little to worry about.
“Happy Valentine’s day, Din.” You tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ears, a little nervous to wish him a happy Valentine’s Day, oddly enough. All these months of knowing him and he still makes you nervous, not in a bad way. It had gotten worse since that kiss in the school house, the nerves of wanting him but not being sure if that kiss had truly meant more to him causing you to become shy when near him. You feel completely and utterly safe with Din, yet at the same time feel that bubble of excitement and nerves in your stomach, that roiling sensation you’ve not felt since you were a child with a crush. You wanted him to see you as more than just Grogu’s teacher but as a woman, an unmarried woman, a woman he could potentially see himself with. A future wife. While he’d expressed interest in courting you that day, nothing had happened since whether he’d changed his mind or the busyness of life had taken over, you weren't sure. You had never thought much on the prospect of marriage, despite your mother’s many warnings, you had simply not cared all that much. You had decided to live your life on your terms, as much as possible, but Din...Din was a man you could see yourself marrying.
It had grown over the months of knowing him from an objective enjoyment of his features, an acceptance that he was an incredibly handsome man and kind as well, into what you could only describe as longing. The beginnings of something greater, something akin to love. Din was everything you could ever want in a prospective husband, prospective father of your future children. He was handsome, so much so that you were ashamed of the thoughts that on occasion, usually in the quiet of the night, ran through your mind. He was kind and caring, a surprisingly gentle man despite his broad shoulders, large hands, and more violent profession. Ex-bounty hunters weren’t known for their softness and yet that was the only way to describe how he treated you and the children. He was gentle in voice, never raising it around you, never shouting or yelling, he chose his words carefully. He was soft in the way that he allowed the children to sit in his lap as he told stories or helped them down from trees when they got stuck. He was kind in that he was always caring for you, whether making sure you were given adult company during the school day or ensuring you ate after a long day without stopping. He was protective, but not overbearing. Kind and soft, but not weak. He would make a wonderful husband, that is something you were utterly sure of and you knew that you were not the only unmarried woman in town who’d turned their gaze to him.
So it made you nervous to wish him a happy Valentine’s day because on a day of love, he was someone you wanted to celebrate and yet found yourself too nervous to do so. It wasn’t becoming, it wasn’t ladylike to take that first step, that first plunge into the unknown world that was love. Despite that spontaneous and daring kiss you found yourself thinking of your mother and shying away from making another attempt. Your mother, God rest her soul, had always made it a notable detail, a finer point in the plan of your life. You would be approached by a man, not the other way around, and you would ultimately make the decision as to whether you wished to be courted by him with the intent to marry or whether you did not. Despite breaking tradition in the way you taught your children, this was something you didn’t have the courage for. Not again. While Din had expressed interest in you all those months back, the time between had seen nothing but his usual friendly behaviour. It made you conscious of your behaviour and the risk of getting hurt. If Din had an interest in you as a potential spouse, a riddur as he told you once, then he would have to make the next move.
Now standing before you with one hand behind his back and the other holding his hat by his stomach he looked infinitely more nervous than you expected for simply dropping off Grogu to school. There was a hint of red to his cheeks, the tips of his ears, his deep brown eyes darted around, from the floor to your own, before looking over your shoulder. You hadn’t truly seen him like this, this nervousness was unusual for him and you could have sworn he’d combed his hair with some pomade, an attempt to neaten the unruly dark curls that you thought were quite dashing on him.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Miss Y/N,” You frown at the formality, confused as to why he isn’t calling you cabur’ika like he usually does. The formality of calling you miss had dissolved almost the moment you met him and it was strange coming from his lips after so much familiarity between you. He has only ever called you miss when talking to the children about you.
For Din, he has never felt quite as nervous as in this moment. Perhaps it’s the time that’s elapsed that does it. When he kissed you he meant it, he meant his intent to court you, but his job had become busier over the months after...and in truth, he had doubts about his worth. He was unsure if he was truly enough for you. He felt ungentlemanly, improper, too rough. For months he’d been struggling with whether or not he was good enough for you, he knew you wanted to be courted by him, but was it the right thing for you? After months of soul searching, a healthy dose of want and longing every time he saw you with the children or whenever you smiled at him, he’d decided that it was your choice to make. He wanted to be with you and maybe he wasn’t damn good enough, maybe he wasn’t the man that should get to be with you, but if you wanted him then he wasn’t strong enough or selfless enough to or cold enough to do anything but love you.
“I...I have something for you, it ain’t much but I…well…” The flush to his cheeks grows deeper, a bright beaming red that screams against his bronzed skin. From behind his back he pulls his arm, hand outstretched towards you. He knows there’s a subtle shake to his arm, nerves at bearing his heart open, however, subtly, racing through his blood. More adrenaline than he’s felt anywhere but in a gunfight.
There, clutched tight between the fingers of his left hand is a beautifully bound book, green leather cover and gilded words, tucked between the pages you can see an envelope just peeking out at the top. You gently take it from his hands with your left, the meaning of that burned into your memory from lessons with your mother. To give and receive a gift with the left hand is to recognise and accept an active interest in oneself. The weight of it has your heart pounding in your chest, almost violently so against your ribs. You read the cover, ‘The Complete Poetical Works of Walt Whitman’, the tears gather in your eyes before you have any time or thought to stop them. There’s a blind panic that fills Din’s chest, like the blaring of a ship’s foghorn in his mind, at the sight of tears collecting in your eyes. There’s a moment of genuine fear, that he’s somehow messed up, that he’s caused you to become upset.
Walt Whitman was the poet you used to read with your father every evening after he finished a long day of work, his works are some of your favourite, some of the most important to you, but you’ve never been one to spend money on yourself. You often spend your wage, what little of it you have, on items for the school, books for the children, a globe, an anatomical skeleton. You have a small copy of his works, old and worn, some pages missing. This book means more to you than you think Din knows. Afterall, Walt Whiteman is a well known poet and books are one of the few perfectly acceptable gifts to give to a woman that you are not married or engaged to. It was presumptuous to assume that the gift had any added meaning behind it. Foolish your late mother might have even said in her damning indictment of romance.
“How did you know?” You clutch the book tight to your chest, heart aching with happiness and longing, that this man had given this to you, on Valentine’s of all days. It brings burning heat to your cheeks, a stutter to your heart, a dryness to your mouth. This is a step that you had dreamed, hoped of, that move towards something more. This was confirmation that he meant it all those months back, that he intended to court you and hadn’t had a change of heart.
“You...he’s the poet you mention the most when you’re teaching the little ones, cabur’ika” You realise what this is, what this all means. He isn’t just a kind sheriff or your friend, he’s an unmarried eligible man showing you that he’s paid attention to you, that he’s interested. There’s a shift, a shift from the easy friendship to a new undercurrent of tension at the unspoken understanding between the two of you, at the prospect of courtship that he’s extending towards you. It’s not a marriage proposal, it’s not marriage, but it’s an offer to begin on the road towards that. It is confirmation that the kiss you’d shared hadn’t been a mistake, a whim, something fleeting and insubstantial.
It makes your heart flutter in your chest at the prospect that Din Djarin is putting his foot forward, extending a possibility, an opportunity, a potential future. That out of all the unmarried women in town Din was actively showing interest in you. He could have picked any number of beautiful, intelligent, eligible women to show interest in, to potentially court, but he’d chosen you. The weight is added at the prospect that he’s not just offering you a marriage, but a family, because little Grogu is part of his world, part of his life and you would never want anything less.
“Thank you, Din...I...Thank you.” You feel a little lost for words, they’re stuck in your throat, knowing that there are so many things you wish to say but so many things you can’t say.
“I should leave you to your teaching, Miss Y/N. I…” There’s a pause as he thinks over the words in his mind, and stops himself. Din is a fool for you, that he is certain, but the last thing he wants at that moment is to make a larger fool out of himself. So he places his hat back atop his head and says, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
You watch as he says a sweet goodbye to Grogu, kneeling briefly on the ground to touch his forehead to the boy’s before reminding him to ‘be good’ for you.
The envelope is a temptation, sticking out from the top of the book, it calls for you to open it in that instant. But, you don’t, smiling at Din as he walks down the street towards the sheriff’s office, you turn back to head inside, Grogu walking with you to his seat, ready for you to teach the class. Despite the nagging desire to see what letter, what words lie in that envelope, you place the book atop of your desk and begin your day of teaching. You attempt to put the letter to the back of your mind, to keep the thoughts of being courted by Din at bay so that you can effectively teach, but you know you are distracted.
The children are just as unfocused as you, the day goes both fast and slow with dramatics abound. Jonah receives at least 5 love letters, Grogu catches a frog for little Mary-Beth and your entire class takes time to gift you with a drawing by themselves of you and the entire class.
Despite a whole class to distract you, you find it hard to teach, your eyes drifting back to your desk. That unassuming little envelope poking out from beneath the pages of a little poetry book that means more to your soul than you can possibly put into any sort of words. You find yourself thinking ahead, of the future, of Din. If he did indeed wish to court you, to go down that path of potential and intended marriage, then he was truly to be part of your future, he and Grogu.
There was no doubt in your mind that you’d accept such a proposition, that you wanted him in your future. Din was your friend, something that had taken very little time in truth. From the moment you’d met him and his son, he’d managed easily to worm his way into your affections without even a thought to do so. He was kind, competent, caring. He was good with children. Respected you, your intelligence and your authority in your classroom. While he happily joined you to tell stories to the children he would always defer to you and respect your right to dictate what happened inside your school house. He helped when you needed it, but never jumped so eagerly to help that he took over when you did not need it. While he was certainly quiet, had a temper hidden beneath it all and a danger to him that you’d seen on the few occasions he felt the town or it’s occupants were in danger, he had never made you feel anything but safe and secure. He had proven himself competent the moment he stepped into town, arranging your school house to be built and demanding the respect of every inhabitant. He had done more for you in the months you’d known him than anyone else had done in years.
He, in truth, captured your attention unlike any other person you’d ever met. You had always had an abstract desire for love, marriage, a family. But, no one had ever caught your attention, no man had ever been thought of as a potential father to your children or life companion. Din from the start had you take notice, you couldn’t quite comprehend the idea that he wanted to potentially marry you of all people.
He had his fair share of admirers, in a small town like your own, he was the man that stood out the most and one of the most handsome. He had a lot of eyes on him at all times and you assumed that he knew it, some were less subtle and ladylike than others. You knew he’d received a few propositions, something your mother would have been horrified at, but he’d yet to accept a single offer. To receive one from him, meant that out of all the people lined up outside the sheriff’s office begging for his attention, he’d chosen you. Something which excited you.
It’s on your lunch break, the children running around outside, that you finally have time to pull the envelope from its resting place between pages of inked words and sit with it. When you retrieved it from between pages of poetry, you had found yourself faced with little dried and pressed flowers between the pages of Walt Whitman’s works. A little additional that made a smile crawl across your lips. You’re sitting on the front steps, watching the kids play, one eye on them, the other on the unassuming letter in your hands. Grogu has come to join you, toddling up the steps on little legs before plonking himself down next to you, leaning his chubby cheek into your arm.
“Shall we see what your buir has written, mm?” You ask the little boy, he grins up at you at the mention of his father, he’s missing a couple of his baby teeth right at the front and the gap adds to the sheer adorable nature of the boy. You don’t know how much he knows, but Grogu has always seemed to know more than he let on, to understand the world around him better than most. There was always an intelligence behind those big eyes that made you think he knew more than either you or Din.
The envelope is unassuming, just a cream coloured piece of paper, neat cursive writing along the front spelling out your name. You’ve never seen Din’s handwriting before and it speaks of someone who received a decent education, hours of being drilled on the correct way to hold a dip pen, how to form each letter. There’s a hesitation to the writing that speaks of someone who hasn’t had reason to write in a while, a little judder to the letters. You trace a fingertip over your name, how it looks in his hand, black ink stark against cream paper. It looks pretty when he’s writing it, you think.
You turn over the envelope and slide a finger underneath the lip of it, careful to open it and not tear the paper in your haste. You glance up briefly at the sound of a yell, seeing that Jerome is fine and just laughing with the others, red in the face from receiving a kiss to the cheek, you turn your gaze to the folded letter that you pull from it’s confines.
It takes everything within you to keep your composure as you read the letter. There is a girlish part of you that wishes to giddily squeal, throw the page into the air and run around in circles to express the sudden burst of energy that fills you. Instead, you sit there calmly, fingers and hands shaking as your eyes dart across the page following each line, hungry for the next.
Dearest cabur’ika, Y/N,
In truth I do not know how to write this letter to you, but it felt less forward and presumptuous to put my thoughts onto paper than to speak them to you clearly and in the open where the town gossip would get involved. I do not want you to feel forced to return my affections or embarrassed by them. While we’ve shared a kiss and i’ve expressed my intent towards you in the past, it has always been private, quiet and anything but bold. It has always left room for doubt, uncertainty and movement. You deserve surety.
I have never been nor will I ever be a poet or a writer. I am a former bounty hunter, a sheriff, a mandalorian. I was raised to fight, to defend, not to write poetry or put down my thoughts and feelings into prose. I apologise if this letter is less than you dreamed of. If it fails to live up to lofty expectations or childhood dreams.
I wish to make it plain and clear to you that I find you to be beautiful. Not just in form, or face, but in soul. You are a protector, a guardian, a caregiver and teacher. From the moment I met you you treated myself and my son with a kindness that I doubt I will ever forget. You have enchanted me in body, soul and mind. When I kissed you in the schoolhouse it was not on a whim, nor was it a false promise. I had and have every intent to court you, to one day marry you. I apologise that I have been distant or allowed room for doubt to grow.
I am eager to see but a glimpse of you in the day, to make you smile or offer you some respite. I am eager to hear your voice even as you talk about topics I have no interest in. I am eager to be in your presence, to see the kindness with which you treat each of your children and the sweetness of your smile, the fierceness of your nature when called upon to protect your class. In the words of Walt Whitman, ‘you do not know how longingly I look upon you’.You are mandokarla, built with the soul of a warrior, the kindness of a mother, and the mind of a teacher. Perhaps my words are too strong or forward, perhaps you do not share my feelings, but I wish to lay my intentions at your feet. I do not wish to presume you return these feelings, perhaps that kiss was a moment of weakness, perhaps your feelings have changed. But I cannot in good conscience go on as we have.
I wish to step out with you, I wish to court you for the town to see, to one day marry you. If you ever allowed me such an opportunity I think I might be the luckiest of men, to have you join me in equal partnership as my riddur. To wake each morning to your smile, to raise our children and Grogu with you. To help you at your weakest and stand and watch you at your strongest. I long to build a life with you.
I ask, will you allow me the great honour of courting you?
If you do not feel the same then I shall end my pursuit, I shall respect your feelings or lack thereof and we shall be friends, as we have been. But, please, consider my words. I would be blessed if you ever saw me worthy of you, you would not just be an excellent riddur, but a loving buir to Grogu. If I did not feel seriously about you I would not make this offer. But, the choice is yours and I shall respect it no matter what your decisions may be.
Yours with love and affection,
Din Djarin
The shake to your breath comes from a good dose of shock and giddiness that collide together inside of your chest like two wagons that haven’t been watching where they were going. It’s not a proposal, but it is a proposal at the same time. There is a giddiness that fills you knowing that Din wishes to step out with you, that he wishes to show the town his intention to one day marry you, that he has affection past that of friendship for you. It’s the giddiness that comes from returned affections, shared interest, you no longer feel as if you are the only one gazing at the other, that your feelings are unrequited. It feels as if all that worry, all that doubt had been for naught, simply a foolish girlish thing to do. How had you ever doubted his intentions towards you?
“Miss, it’s time for history…” It’s Annie standing in front of you, hands on her hips to remind you that you need to call the children in, that has you hastily folding the letter and pocketing it, picking Grogu up and resting him on your hip as you rise. You, as most teachers, do not have the time to be giddy or dwell on love confessions during the school day.
The day drags on in its last moments. Your desire to return home, to write a carefully crafted response, to find some sort of gift in addition, has you counting the seconds, minutes, and hours as they slowly tick by. Your children can tell you are unfocused and they become incredibly distracted as a result, but despite this you can’t find it in yourself to be frustrated or irritated, not today of all days when your patience with them has been extended by your supernaturally good mood.
When Din collects Grogu at the end of the day you give him your sweetest smile and thank him earnestly for the letter. He isn’t sure what it means. It’s not an outright rejection or acceptance and despite the burning desire in his chest to receive an answer, he knows how to be patient, tipping his hat at you and offering to walk you home as a gentleman does.
It isn’t unusual for Din to walk you home after the school day ends, even on nights where you stay late at school he often comes back with Grogu to walk you as the dark sets in. He has never been anything but a gentleman when it comes to making sure you get home safe even in a small town where very little happens and you know everyone. Still, you’ve always appreciated the gesture and you do now, even if wrapping your arm through his and walking side by side takes on a new tension, a new feeling.
There’s a little thought in the back of your mind, niggling, that you can’t quite get rid of. The thought that this is what your little family could look like if all goes well. That you, with your arm wrapped through Din’s, hands in the crook of his elbow, and him, with Grogu on his hip, little arms wrapped around his neck, could easily be a future image of a family. Not just the Sheriff, a single father, walking the school teacher home because he’s polite and gentlemanly.
“Thank you again, for the letter and the poetry book. I...you don’t understand how much it all means to me, Din. I...I want to respond properly, take my time….I.” The air is cold, as it always is in early February, but your entire body feels warm as you try to explain that you’re not rejecting his offer. You don’t want him to doubt for a second that you intend to say yes, but it doesn’t feel right to say it. There’s a desire to take your time, to write a heartfelt reply, to ensure that the time he took for you, you take in return.
“You ain’t gotta tell me right away. It’s okay to take your time, mesh’la.” The reassurance has your shoulders dropping, a sense of relief, the removal of pressure. Any fear you had that Din would grow impatient dissipates and you're reminded once more of how safe you feel with him. Both physically and emotionally. He is a calming, solid presence. There is nothing fickle or finicky about Din and that is a relief when so much of your social world is confusing to navigate.
“Thank you.” You tell him earnestly, drawing closer to him as you walk. Your side pressed fully into his, hip to hip, arm to arm. You cannot truly comprehend Din Djarin, the many elements that make him a better man than most, but you don’t think you have to fully comprehend him to enjoy being around him, to find comfort in him. Perhaps it will take years for you to fully understand who he is, but you like to believe you’ll get the time to do so. To learn him just as well as he seems to have learnt you.
Your home isn’t particularly large. When you first came to town the Mayor had informed you that the post of teacher came with a small lodging. It was small; a separate bedroom off of the main living area, a water closet out in the back garden, enough room in the kitchen and living area for your tub to be placed in front of the fire when you need to wash. It was, however, homey, something Din had admired from the first.
You ensured that blankets and pillows, knick knacks and trinkets covered the space. That it felt like a lived space, a place filled with love and warmth.
He’s reluctant to leave you when he reaches the top step to your door. There’s a part of him that rarely wants to part from you, that enjoys your company even if it’s silent. You are comforting and familiar, he feels like he can be himself around you. There’s an implicit trust between the two of you. He trusts you with his son, he trusts you with his safety and protection, he trusts you with himself and even his heart, something he has protected ever since the death of his parents at the hands of bandits and thieves. He would be happy so long as he is in your presence and it is that fact that makes him certain about his decision to propose courtship, there is no one he would rather spend the rest of his days with. Terrifying, overwhelming, massive, but he can sense how entirely worth it it will be.
“Goo-”
“Hav-”
The two of you go to say goodnight at the same time, stopping short and laughing under your breath. You tug at the fabric of your skirt and shift, feeling a wave of embarrassment at talking over each other, an odd feeling when neither have done anything to be embarrassed of.
Grogu shifts on his father’s hip, leaning forward a hand reaching out to wave at you. You begin to smile, waving back at the little boy, your smile only grows wider when the usually mute boy giggles out “Goodnigh’!” at you with a large smile on his face.
The boy manages to break the tension with a simple word and smile, once again you wonder if he knows more than he lets on. That this six year old is, perhaps, wise beyond his years.
“Goodnight, Grogu. Goodnight, Din.”
“Goodnight, cabur’ika” There is a pause from Din as if he wishes to say something, before stopping himself, turning and walking down your stairs. You wait there at your door, watching him leave until your eyes can no longer follow his figure as he disappears around a corner and out of sight.
Your home feels empty, unusually so, with their presence gone, but you decide to put your energy and longing into a response. The first part is your famous spiced cookies. You know that Mandalorians prize spiced foods highly, a cultural aspect that your teacher Atin’a Caivass had shared with you as a child.
The recipe was hers, one thing she gifted you, shared with you, and entrusted to you. So you get to work, mixing together flour, butter, sugar, egg. Adding spices that are one of the little luxuries you deign to spend a little extra on. They’re the sort of cookies that have a lovely mixture of sweetness and kick, they hit you in the back of the throat just enough to make your mouth tingle. The coco powder in them balances out the heat nicely,
Once the cookies are on the side cooling you hunt out your letter writing items. You haven’t had reason to write a letter since the passing of your parents many years ago. But, you know, in your organised way, where your things are. You collect your writing paper, envelopes, dip pen, ink. You find out your sealing wax, the stamps you haven’t used in years. You lay out each item on your kitchen table with care, feel a thrill go through you that you haven’t felt in years. You always enjoyed writing letters, taking your time to put thoughts and feelings into words onto paper.
You take up your pen, dip the metal nib into black ink and bring the tip to cream, clean, fresh paper and begin to write.
Dearest Sheriff Djarin, Din.
There are few words in the expanse of the dictionary that could truly describe how I felt upon reading your letter. Ever since the kiss we shared I had worried, doubted. I was scared that perhaps you had changed your mind, decided that I was not worth your time, that I was not of interest anymore. When to me you had only become further ingrained in my dreams and wants. I was scared that I had made a terrible fool of myself.
To know that those feelings are returned, that you can see a life and a future with me means the world, it means everything. Grogu and you have become an inextricable part of my life, a part I would never wish to do without. You and that sweet boy make my soul sing and as Walt Whitman once aptly put ‘I am to see to it that I do not lose you’.
You enchant me and thrill me to no end and perhaps that is not ladylike to say, perhaps I should write a quick acceptance of your offer and leave it at that, but I feel that such honest and open words should be returned in kind. I adore you.
I adore the crinkle in your brow, the blinding smile when you drop your guard. I adore the kind, gentle nature you have around children, the ease with which you cause them to smile and laugh. I adore the respect you have for me, the respect you have for my authority in the classroom. I adore the curls of your hair, the hook of your nose, the patchy beard that grows on your jaw. I find there is very little I do not adore about you, Din Djarin and that is both a terrifying concept and one that I too adore.
There was a time I thought little on marriage. I was told I should marry, but what of it? Why would I? You have, for the first time, made me truly desire marriage, a husband, children, a life of pure domesticity and family.
To put it plainly, and I hope my feelings are not off putting or too forward, I would be glad, happy, ecstatic to one day call myself your wife and to call you my husband, my riddur.
You asked if I would allow you to court me and my answer is yes, a hundred, a thousand times yes. I would love nothing more than to step out with you, to hang on your arm and begin to take steps towards a life together.
I wish to make it equally as clear that Grogu matters to me. That I understand that he is part of this, part of you, and that I would never wish for you to part from each other. If you one day saw me as worthy of becoming his mother then I would take that responsibility on with pride and with love. He is a little angel, he captured my heart from the very first day I met him, even with his mischief and I would never wish to part with the two of you or come between your aliit, only to join it. I understand that he is as much your son, your child, as any child born of your own blood.
I accept your offer of courtship and I knowingly enter into it, and all that it entails.
All my love and affection,
Y/N Y/L/N
You wait for the ink to dry, in the meantime you take some muslin and begin to wrap the cookies carefully in the fabric. The twine you wrap around you knot into a bow. Redoing it multiple times until you're happy with its shape. There’s no real need for a knot of twine to be perfect, but you want it to look perfect, to be perfect, for him.
The ink of your letter is dry and you’re careful as you go through the motions of folding the pages, slipping them into a crisp envelope and weighing down the lip. You’re selective in your choice of wax and seal, careful as you melt the wax, pour it and stamp it. There’s a quiet calm about it all, sealing your words behind wax and paper. Knowing that the next time they’re revealed the one person they’re meant for will be reading them.
You place the times together on the side with care, ready to be collected in the morning as you leave for the school house. You take a few moments to think about when it would be best to deliver them, deciding that as much as it pains you to wait, the evening, after school, is better than the morning. It would simply distract you more, you have little time to do it, and the evening gives you that time to talk, to enjoy the change in your relationship.
You go to sleep that night with thoughts of Din’s smile, the one he gives whenever he tells a story to your class, soft, gentle, filled with contentment. Thoughts of the way his hair curls over his ears and his neck moves as he swallows. Thoughts of how he had come into your little mining town of Navarro and shaken everything up in the best sort of way, put to right all the wrongs, solved problems and brought forth solutions.
When you wake the next morning you’re extra particular about what you choose to wear, how your pins look in your hair and how much rouge is on your cheeks. You know, deep down, that Din could care less about the way your hair is pinned or how much rouge is on your cheeks, but it’s something to occupy your hands and mind in the morning before you get to the school house. Once you’re teaching you know you’ll have little time to worry or think about the response you intend to pass on to Din at the Sheriff’s office that evening, but in the meantime you busy yourself with your daily routine.
The day seems to drag, your smile and good morning to Din as he drops Grogu off for school is filled with tension and unspoken words. Your lessons seem to take forever to teach and where you’d normally be enthused you find yourself more eager for the day to end than anything else.
Paz is the one to come by and collect Grogu at the end of the day. The large man had settled into town as the deputy not a month into Din’s stint as sheriff. You knew that Paz and Din were close, practically brothers, having grown up together in the covert and that had been the main reason for you warming to him so quickly. Without Din’s presence you would have likely shied away from Paz. He was large, if you’d thought Din was broad shouldered, then he had nothing on Paz, who was a veritable giant. His size and his resting scowl made him intimidating, but his interactions with the children and women of town showed his character instantly. Like another Mandalorian you knew he’d been gentle and sweet, respectful, despite his size and intimidating demeanor. You liked Paz, even if he seemed to enjoy embarrassing you around his brother.
“Hey there, Little One!” You watch Paz crouch down, arms open as the little boy barrels towards him as fast as his little legs can go. Grogu absolutely adored Paz, he was his uncle, his ba’vodu, and the little boy loved being swung about, hefted to and fro by the giant man. It was the tenderness with which Paz always encompassed Grogu in his arms, lifting him gently to his shoulders, that reminded you of the soul inside Paz. The cover of his book was intimidating, scary, tough, the face of a mercenary and bounty hunter, but his inner pages, his soul was just as soft as Din, just as caring. You were happy to call Paz a friend.
“Hello, Paz”, You smile up at the man, Grogu now sat about his shoulders, arms wrapped around the top of his head with a little smile. The man in question smiles down at you, “Good evenin’, cyar’ika”, You smile wider at the familiar endearment, happy to see your friend even if the nerves from your impending visit to Din buzz in your stomach and chest.
“Is Din working late?”
“Yeah, the kid’ll be at mine for the night, Din’s working the graveyard shift so to speak.” You’re, in truth, glad that Paz is watching Grogu for the night, that Din is working late. It gives you the privacy to give your response, without either the watchful eyes of a child or any other sort of audience.
“Well, have a good night, Paz”
“Not as good as yours i’m sure” It’s said with that teasing glint that Paz often gets in his eye and a smirk that twists the shape of his beard. It causes a sort of panic to fill you, at the thought that Paz knows, that he knows what’s going on even if it’s completely believable and acceptable that Din would tell his brother about his intentions towards you. Your body feels warm all of a sudden and you're sure there’s a look of panic in your eyes because Paz’s glint softens down to something kind and gentle as he nods a goodnight to you and walks away.
You force yourself to go about your normal routine, spending a few hours at the school house marking books, organising the next day’s lessons, tidying up and generally making sure you were ready for all your children the following morning. You may spend a little too much time rearranging the items on your desk and sharpening pencils that don’t really need to be sharpened.
It’s as the sun begins to dip low in the February sky, and people begin to light lamps in their houses or, for those with enough money, turn on their electric lights that you finally decide enough is enough and grab the parcel and letter from your desk. You march with a strange sort of determination, that hides the mess of emotions you are inside, across the street and to the Sheriff’s Office. It doesn’t matter that Din had already shared his feelings with you, you were still nervous of his reaction, had you responded well enough? Was it romantic enough? Would something in your letter be off putting for him? Was it too forward? Not clear enough?
He is leaning back in his chair, legs crossed on top of his desk, heels of his boots digging into the wood of the table. The warm light from various gas lamps bounces across Din’s features, accentuates the sharpness of his cheek bones, the curve of his hawkish nose, the shadow from the brim of his hat.
His chair makes a sharp screech across the floorboards as he rushes to stand at the sight of you, feet falling to the floor as he bounces to them. The hat is swept off his head, politely removed to show the curls of his hair as he, dare you say nervously, tugs at his waistcoat and checks his attire. It’s somewhat relaxing, the endearing nerves with which he greets you, the quick attempt to perfect himself, to show you the best of him, even if you would have happily been greeted by him even if he were covered head to toe in mud.
“Cabur’ika…” He’s a little breathless and it causes a flush to reach his cheeks. He’s embarrassed that he sounds like a school aged kid, that he isn’t standing before you behaving like a man, an adult. But, you take the breath out of him. You’re frazzled looking after a long day teaching, the hair of your up-do frizzy and falling out in places, chalk across your cheeks and skirt, wrinkles in your clothes that he was sure weren’t there that morning, but you still looking breathtaking, you still make his heart jump a beat.
“Din…” You’re breathless yourself, it feels like your nerves have a hand around your throat, a tight grip keeping the breath from leaving your lungs. You fumble a little as you step towards him, tripping on a loose floorboard but catching yourself. Your hands nearly drop the precious cargo they’re carrying and you clutch tighter in response.
“I...uh...Here.” You had the parcel and letter to him, as he reaches for the envelope first you panickedly say, “The parcel! Open...open the parcel first?” He can see the nerves in you, the way you twist your fingers and bite at your bottom lip, in an effort to ease them he nods with a smile and puts the envelope on his desk, focusing on the package of muslin and string.
He’s careful as he opens it on his desk, pulling apart the perfect bow you’d tied and unravelling the package with careful hands. His fingers are too delicate in that moment for such large hands, for hands that have choked men unconscious and lassoed bounties, that have held guns. It’s odd for him, how easily he has fitted into the domesticity of town, odd, but not unwelcome.
The wrappings fall away and he’s greeted by the sight of warm brown cookies, irregularly shaped, although somewhat circular. They’re delicious looking, but what gets him the most is the smell, it reminds him of winter nights in the covert, of his adopted parents and warm cookies and milk, spices that he’s almost forgotten about. He should really ask before grabbing one and tucking in, but he can’t resist the urge to find out if the spices are the ones he remembers from his childhood.
The cookie is moist and soft as it crumbles away easily onto his tongue, he can’t resist closing his eyes at the taste. He recognises the spices, the taste taking him back to fond memories and warmth, a familial bond between him and those who had taken him in, protected him, given him a purpose, a life. He finishes the whole thing without really realising it.
You watch on, anxious to see if he likes them. It had been a risk, spicing the cookies, you hoped the significance to his culture was a good thing and not bad. You found yourself second guessing your decision as his brow furrowed, eyes closing, but then he took the next bite, and the next, until the cookie was no more and Din’s chocolate coloured eyes opened and blinked over at you with the lightest sheen of tears.
“How did you know?”
“I...I had a mandalorian teacher, remember? She...she always liked spiced cookies, I…are they okay? Was...should I not have?” You feel the worry bounce through you, at the thought that you’d crossed some invisible line, some sort of boundary not meant to be crossed.
“No, no! They’re lovely, thank you. They...they remind me of home, Mesh’la.” He’s quick to reassure you, a warm hand reaching out to give one of your own a quick squeeze, just long enough to comfort you, but no longer than appropriate.
You watch him turn back to the envelope, picking it up with care before glancing between the seal and you, eyes darting back and forth as if he is unsure if he is allowed to open it, to read it. “Open it.” You force the words from your throat, nervous for him to read your words, your thoughts and feelings put to paper, but knowing that the relief once he has done so will outweigh your current anxiety.
You stand and watch, a lump in your throat, your hands twisting into your skirt as he opens the envelope. A careful finger pulling the seal free and gently easing the pages of your letter from it’s confines. You wait and you watch, eyes intent on his features as his own carefully trace across the curvature of your words.
He can feel his heart pounding in his ears, feel the tears well in his eyes as he reads further throughout your letter. It is not just your open acceptance of his offer that has his emotions rising within his chest, but the clear admiration of him and the openness with which you accept his son. Grogu was his child, you were right, as much as any child of his own blood would be, and he had, in truth, stupidly worried that you might not accept the boy as your own. Your excitement at the prospect of one day being a mother to him causes his heart to ache in the best sort of way.
Din was purposeful as he placed the letter down and strode up to you, the toes of his boots touching the hem of your skirt. He invades your personal space in a way that sets your skin aflame, yet it is not uncomfortable. You welcome his presence as much as it causes your heart to beat rapidly and your throat to swallow.
“May I kiss you?” He asks, his voice soft and gentle, the southern twang just under the surface. He’s so close you can feel the warmth from his skin. You nod, letting out a shaky breath as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. So large they enclose you so well, make you feel secure even as your heart tries to stutter out of your chest. It matters little that you’ve kissed before, that was quick, this was slow, your attention undivided, your thoughts completely encapsulated by him and his entire being. His hands are warm against your cheeks, thumbs brushing back and forth in gentle strokes as he gages your reaction, eyes focused on your own. He’s slow as he moves forward, as if giving you time to back out, to pull away, but you don’t.
He tastes like spices and sugar, the cookie lingering on his tongue long after it had melted away. He is soft, but not so gentle, the gentle, delicate nature of your last kiss is replaced by depth of emotion, passion and fire. His lips firm against yours, a large hand cupping the back of your neck to pull you closer, while the other falls to your waist. His beard scratches against your skin pleasantly and you think you could happily grow used to this. You think little of propriety, of politeness, when you open your lips to his and meld yourselves closer together, think little of it as you clutch at his shoulders and breathe him in, as your fingers come up to tangle in those chocolate curls and tug incessantly, as his tongue tangles with your own. There is no fear of it going too far, of Din pushing you for more, of demanding more because you both know the lines that must not be crossed, because you trust him implicitly and because you know he respects you enough to not risk your reputation or livelihood for something carnal or baser, even if he desires it. Even if you desire it.
The lack of fear is what allows you to get swept up in the kiss, in the feeling of his hands and lips on you, the warmth of his skin, the smell of his soap. It allows you to forget that the world outside exists, that you are not in your own private world, but in the easily accessible space that is the Sheriff’s Office.
The spell is broken by the sound of the door slamming open and heavy, booted footfalls on the floorboards. You pull apart with a gasp and Din is quick to stand in front of you, as if to protect you from view, scowling at his deputy in the doorway. Not even the little boy on Paz’s shoulder can take the frustration from Din, he is frustrated at the interruption, embarrassed for you, that you were caught in a compromising position, and irritated by the smirk that’s heavy on Vizsla’s lips.
Paz hadn’t meant to interrupt, in truth he hadn’t expected to find you there, lips locked to his brother, but Grogu was being fussy. Refusing to eat his dinner and then outright refusing to be put to bed. Paz had decided the kid just needed to see his buir, he hadn’t expected Din to be...in the middle of something.
“Am I interrupting something, Djarin?” He’s teasing and he feels a little sorry when he sees how embarrassed you look, but it’s worth it for the glare he gets from Din. His smirk widens as Din practically growls at him, teeth clenched tight.
“Vizsla, don’t make me shove my boot where the sun don’t shine. Ne shab’rud’ni.” He softens a little at Grogu grinning at the two of you, but he still wishes the interruption had never come. He knows it was inevitable, he has a young son, the chances of romance going uninterrupted are slim, still…
“We’ll be outside, Vod. Don’t take too long” Paz says it, still with that smirk attached to his face. He’s gracious enough to give Din a little more time with you, before demanding the man take his son home and tuck him in bed.
The door closes softly behind him, the moment he’s out of sight Din turns back to you, sighing out an apology, “I’m sorry, cyare…”
He presses his forehead to your own, hands smoothing across your waist and back in gentle motions. As if trying to soothe the embarrassment from you, bring you back to a sense of peace that had since been disrupted.
You push your forehead back into his and nudge his nose with your own, “Don’t be. He’s your son.” You mean it. As embarrassing as being interrupted is, as frustrating as it may be, you understand. His son is massively important, and he’s young, there are bound to be interruptions. It’s okay.
“So, we’re really doin’ this, huh? Haven’t changed your mind yet, Mesh’la?”
“Not at all…” You press forward, a soft, sweet little kiss to lips before pulling back, “You should go...Grogu needs you. Wish him a goodnight for me?” You pull away slowly, untangling yourself from his arms despite your own reluctance. You want to stay there, warm and safe forever, but Grogu needs his father and you do not have the heart to deprive him.
“Always.”
Din doesn’t want to leave you, but you make the decision for him, grabbing his hat and carefully plopping in atop his head before ushering him out the door. You watch as he takes Grogu from Paz, putting the boy onto his shoulders and walking with the man down the street.
He can’t help but look back.
------------------------------
All Works Taglist
@charradelange @belfry-bat @gabile18 @beccaboo929
Putting Down Roots Taglist
@trasheater @roxypeanut @reader-without-a-story
#din djarin x reader#din djarin / reader#din djarin#the mandalorian#the mandalorian reader insert#reader insert#readerinsert#western au#putting down roots#din djarinxreader#din djarin/reader#female reader#female identifying reader
172 notes
·
View notes
Text
Character study of William murderface
Cw: child abuse, ptsd, trauma, internalized homopobia,ect.
Throughout the show, murderface has been presented as a shitty person that is untalented, leeches off of his friends/ fame, and honestly just seem to have gotten lucky when getting into dethklok.
Which is true, but I want to look in a little deeper why he's like this. (Note:this might be kinda head cannonish. I have some examples from the actual show but since we never got a deep backstory for murderface or get many murderface centric episodes I'll be filling in some empty spaces.)
Murderface in the show
Murderface is extremely self loathing and has had moments where he just goes so hard in on himself.
Season 1 episode 1
We see this in the very beginning when he refers to himself as the 'fat one.'
It could've been played off as a simple joke, which it was in the show for the audience watching. But in the show's universe and for the character, this will be an occurring thing.
This continues in
Season 1 episode 3
It's murderface's birthday and the boys throw murderface a party. During his party murderface is shown complaining and being stand-offish. You would think the last thing he would want is a party, yet he still sends out invites to his bandmates. (Note: noticed how the invites were sent right after murderface left the room? Idk it just seemed like he was embarrassed or scared his bandmates would laugh at him for wanting a birthday party. He even tried to act non chalant when the invite said "come if you want, who gives a piss." when they did throw him a party he still came)
When the boys pulled a little, kinda mean but harmless prank on him, literally giving him the gift of nothing. Murderface was fucking hurt, like genuine tears almost left this man's eyes when he come into his room to get his thing's and 'run away'.
Of course the boys did give murderface an actual gift, which honestly had a lot of thought and effort put into it. This makes murderface cry a tear. (Of blood but you know still a tear)
This is the example of the boy's showing they care for murderface. But even after this big gesture murderface will continue to believe the opposite.
The show continues and we get the first and honestly only backstory for murderface.
Season 1 episode 6
When the boys get a band therapist, we find out the tragic murder/suicide of murderface's parents. His father killing his mother then himself with a chainsaw, this whole thing happens while murderface as a baby sits in his highchair unaware while eating his cereal. This flashback makes murderface kinda sit there in shock as he pisses his pants.
(Note: murderface has said in the show that his appearance was the reason his parents are dead. If that really was the case, why didn't his father kill him or at least killed him after he killed his mother? Why did his father just kill his wife and himself? Never laying a single hand on murderface? Will get back to that later.)
Season 1 episode 9
Bringing up this episode may be confusing to some for bringing this up since it doesn't focus solely on murderface. He doesn't even get that much screen time this episode. But I would like to point out his actions in that episode.
In this episode the boys adopt a young teen boy they name fatty ding dong and raise him as their son for probably couple of weeks. While the boys all had their...interesting way of raising him. Murderface had the most physical fights with fatty ding dong. Mostly when we misbehaved. Like hitting him, shocking him non stop with a tazer, beating him for eating his civil war boots ect.
I just like to point out that murderface was raised by his grandparents. We'll come back to more of that later in the post.
Season 1 episode 11
The band gets reunited with their families and what we see from murderface and his family is that they are very violent towards each other. Murderface tries to choke his grandmother when looking in at her mouth as she chewed. Pickles and Nathan had to snap himself out of it, murderface apologized saying it was his fault for looking to deeply.
Like that was some kind of trigger from his past that made him black out and get violent.
He was also highly against buying his grandfather a wheelchair, only doing so because the boys agreed to be nice towards their family to get them to leave.
Even when they were spending time with each other, they never touched each other William kept his distance. Only ever touching if it was fight related.
In the same episode we see why, Stella was so physically abusive towards murderface, spraying fucking pepper spray into his eyes when he did..nothing? He wasn't aggressive or was even part of the issue. She just attacks him because she had to change his diapers?
This belittlement and physical abuse continues everytime they are together on screen.
So to bring back up season 1 episode 9. With how murderface treated fatty ding dong we can assume that's how we was being treated while under the care of his grandparents. Children soak up things like a sponge. Whether you think they remember it or not. Many psychological reports has shown that children will mimick and repeat behaviors and actions their caretakers do. If it's right or not, children will do things because that's what this adult dose. That's what they see at home. It's normal to them if that is the environment they grow in. Even if the child feels like something is off or wrong. They won't know exactly what is wrong or why because it's all they know.
So if this is how murderface was raised, which highly may be the case since we see Stella physically abuse murderface even as an adult. He might have actually thought this is how you raise a child, this is what you do to a child when they misbehaved. Nobody in his life has corrected murderface or explain to him that this way of discipline isn't ok or even discipline to begin with, it is abuse.
So, we are to believe with the information we have now. Is that murderface was most likely abused as a child, probably all the way up till he was able to get away from them and join dethklok.
With this information we can apply this to his behavior in the show. A side effect from child abuse is suicidal behavior. Throughout the show Murderface would now and then casually commit about hurting or killing himself.
Season 1 episode 2
Murderface casually states if it'll be brutal enough for him to just take his life after Nathan deltes another record. Or when the boys kindly ask him to stop eating beans, he gets oddly emotional and says he'll just starve to death then.
Another effect from child abuse is eating disorders and obesity.
You already know this a big part of murderface's character. There are times where he's seen constantly eating junk food, to eating nothing and just drinking coffee, to the doctor pointing out the back of his teeth are decaying. And murderface informs him it's from throwing up his food.
He also gets teased for his weight being called chubby and fat, ect. Murderface has a hard time with his weight, his excessive eating may even be seen as an unhealthy coping mechanism.
Other effects such as aggressive behavior, low self esteem, dissociation, ect. Is also shown within the show.
Season 1 episode 15
Murderface gets into a motorcycle accident and is sent into the hospital. This near death experience gets him on a religious journey. Maybe to find answers to certain questions or possibly wondering where he was going to go if he did die? Is he a good person, why do certain things happen to people, what's the meaning of life?
He asked the guys if he really deserved to live. Does he really deserve to be brought onto this world, being a part of a pretty good and rare type of life.
The boys being emotionally closed off don't really answer his question. They honestly brush it off but they do go along with murderface on his spiritual journey.
He eventually chooses no religion, but I feel that near death experience stuck with him. He either decided that life was too short so might as well live it, or a more cynical view on life. That it's meaningless then who cares if he died?
Season 2 episode 11
This is probably an episode where murderface was the most sad and self loathing. (This and another episode I can't wait to get to) after his concert, he felt pretty shitty with the outcome and had lead him to feel that he does not deserve the life he has now and wonders why he even shows his face. Just wanting the spot light for one.
Which is really interesting. Because comparing season 1 with the other 3. Murderface in season one had...fans. There were people who genuinely liked him. The prime example is his birthday episode.
When he had a solo, just like in season 2 episode 11. People were cheering his name. Practically screaming at the rooftops for him. So what happened?
We already know that murderface is the least liked member of the band, but even then he still had fans. Hell people committed terrorists attacks just for him on his birthday.
Maybe it was just a loud minority? Who knows, but if in the show as time went on less and less people had him as his favorite or even just liked him would probably get him really insecure.
After the concert failure, Charles let's him host a Nas car event. Which I'd think would've gone actually well if you know, the dethklok curse wasn't a thing.
Also as murderface was planning the event people around him didn't really support him or help him out. Which is mostly murderface's fault, he has a lack of focus and doesn't really plan things through. This is a good reason for partners and others outside wanting to work with dethklok not want to work with murderface. It costs money and a lot of time to do all the things related to dethklok. And murderface's flakeyness is a valid reason for business and others to not have faith in him when related to these things.
BUT! (This is a little bit of projection here) as someone who also has a lack of focus and hard time to get things done. That doesn't mean I don't want to do said thing, that doesn't mean I want to waste others time. I simply have a hard time focusing, I need structure and that little reminder to get things done. But the difference between me and murderface is that I'm not a billionaire.
I am not apart of a popular metal band, with all the money in the world, with a manager that will clean up every little mess I make.
I have more risk, whatever I fuck up will effect me. I will suffer the consequences. Murderface won't. (Also he's a fictional character..so reality won't have any affect on him lol)
But yea, I believe if murderface would suffer from his consequences then he'd be a bit more on things. Also I feel murderface's mental health issues play a huge role in things.
His fear that he's not good enough, eating disorders, ect. Can really mess up your focus.
So, now to the infamous episode. Dethvanity.
Season 4 episode 8
In this episode Murderface in nominated for the most brutal looking award and this. Fucks. Him. Up.
So much so that he actually hallucinates his bandmates and Charles calling him ugly and other things that they never even said.
When he goes to the plastic surgeon, he tells him. A complete stranger, that he hates himself. For murderface to actually admit this deep issue that he's been keeping deep down. For him to show vulnerability to a stranger is pretty sad.
When he goes to Nathan to borrow money, he tells a story of a 'boy' that was so ugly that he's driven his parents to murder suicide. Again he's calling himself ugly and blaming himself for his parents death. (Were going to get back to that too.)
After murderface gets the surgery he days dream about what would happen if he was beautiful. Finally being accepted and able to say fuck you to all those that were shit to him.
Of course, it doesn't end like that. He's face gets infected and is even more ugly than before.
This episode was pretty messed up. Murderface didn't get what he thought would give him validation, he looks down on himself more, and he is humiliated front of 100s of people.
This whole shit show probably validated all the negative thoughts he had for himself.
Next we'll talk about his internalized homopobia. Murderface...is definitely..not straight. He's not gay either he does have sexual attraction to women but his uncomfortably and very interesting moments and visions say he might like more than just that.
Season 2 episode 5
Murderface has a weird thing with eating 'penis' shaped objects or watching other eating said shaped objects.
He has a lot of weird moments where he gets really close to one of his bandmates and just whispers something in their ear. Specifically Pickles and Skwisgaar.
He just said fuck it and tried to bang toki while they were in the submarine.
Had hallucinations of cutting between women, men, animals, even his own grandmother and was distraught when he had a small moment of admitting he way gay.
There's no real specific reason why or how murderface is this scared of being gay. But I feel it may also be with how he grew up. He was probably been told it was wrong to be gay and how immoral it was to like men and you'll burn in hell if you do. Also being gay wouldn't be 'brutal' or 'manly'.
And not to shit on metal heads but you know. They're not the...most..exclusive group of people.
I think murderface is scared to accept he's gay because his grandparents made him feel he would be a bad person if he was or get kicked out of the band if he was.
So, after all I laid on the table, let's wrap this up. Back to the blaming himself of his parents deth. I believe, Williams parents didn't kill/murder themselves because he has ugly. I like to think the opposite, I believe his parents actually dearly cared for him. I think his father had some serious mental issues or something else pushed him over the edge.
It could be anything really, maybe his dad was crazy, maybe it had something to do with the curse. I like to think they both cared for him his dad just..idk snapped.
I'm assuming murderface's grandparents are his dads parents. And seeing how they treated murderface they most definitely treated his dad the same.
Or, it wasn't murder/suicide at all. Buckle in because it's all tv theory over here. I have a hard time to believe that murderface remembered, in such detail in fact. How his parents died, in the flashback he looks to be 7 to 8 months? Traumatic event yes, but there's no way a baby can remember such a thing.
I think, Stella lied to murderface about how his parents died. I think it was just some evil twisted thing she said to make murderface feel terrible about himself. His parents probably unfortunately died in say a car accident or health related issues. But the main thing is how guilty murderface feels, how terrible he feels that he thinks he was the reason he killed his parents when that's far from the truth.
It was either an unfortunate accident or his father killing themselves. But it is not murderface's fault.
The physical abuse from his grandparents, the guilt of believing he's the reason for his parents death, his aggressive internalized homopobia, lack of support, the bullying from his bandmates, body issues/eating disorder, and it just keeps going.
It's no fucking wonder why the man is like this. Don't get me wrong, murderface is an asshole and is responsible for most of his actions.
But that's still a lot of shit for someone to go through.
That's all I have, this is really long. But I hoped you like this little thread. There's still more to his character but this is long enough.
54 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
wittysummer24
Ƭнαт Oηє Aят ƁƖσg
miniaturejudgeturkeytree
Robot danseur 0.5
theycallmemaia-blog
drake's #1 fan
kat-galaxy
Kat Galaxy
kat-galaxy
Kat Galaxy