#oh and to explain the metal street sign thing. i will never make THIS mistake again

[bbdaydreams]

Courage My Love// Semi Eita

Pairing: Semi Eita x Reader

Summary: You like Semi and come up with a plan to confess to him, unfortunately it takes a turn. You meet again a couple years later by chance.

Chapter Six: Shape Up

Series Masterlist•<previous•next>

“Alrighty, your food will be ready shorty,” the waitress spoke before leaving with the booklets and you all thanked her.

Semi and you still haven’t had a real conversation since sitting down at the table together, just mumbling some words to get through the night which Taka took notice of. “Are you two nervous or something? It’s alright, I’m not scary and you guys don’t look scary. Enjoy yourselves please, besides this is all our treat to you guys.” Feeling guilty for your behavior you immediately apologized to Taka and his band mates and thanked them again for the invitation. Semi did the same as well. You’re both just gonna have to fake it. “It’s okay! We’re going to be spending a lot of time together so I think it’d be cool if we could get to know each other, where are you from? I’m from Tokyo.”

“Miyagi,” you and Semi answered at the same time.

“Oh! Have you guys met before or anything?”

“We went to the same high school,” Semi answered causing you to internally face palm.

“That’s crazy! Were you two friends?”

“We were. Then we lost touch when we graduated. You know, busy busy,” you spoke up before Semi could. The last thing you want was someone you look up to questioning your past drama. Just seeing Semi was enough to remind you of how things went down all those years ago.

“Yeah, this is actually our first time seeing each other since then.”

“Wow, now I’m the odd man out,” Taka laughed to which you did too. While laughing you felt something poke your side.

Semi was sneakily trying to hand you his phone. Semi started branching off to a different conversation with Taka to distract him which you know he did so you could look at his phone without suspicion since everyone else was having their own conversations. You took a quick glance at the text message he typed to someone but didn’t send.

“Can we talk after this?”

You glided your eyes back onto the two singers, focusing more on the ash blonde. You two haven’t spoken in six years, what could he have to say, you asked yourself. Starting to think out every logical scenario you could, you thought that he just wanted to get the confrontation out of the way so you could both do this tour without any issues. Whatever happens, you know that even if you say no, you’d have to talk to him eventually. Might as well get it over with sooner than later so you typed your response.

“Yeah seriously thank you so much for listening to my band too. I’m so glad you like us. I’m actually a big fan of your music,” you spoke, jumping into the conversation so you could pass Semi his phone back with ease under the table.

“Thank you. I really liked your voices and wanted you guys to join me for the last song on our set list. It’s one of the new songs off the latest album,” Taka explained.

“Which song is it?” You asked excitedly.

“Take What You Want. We made the song with 5 Seconds of Summer but I think you guys would sound really good doing their parts.”

“I’m so down!”

“Sounds good to me,” Semi added, amused by your enthusiasm.

“Here’s your food,” the waitress spoke as she set down your plates with the help of another waiter. You all thanked them for the food before enjoying your meals.

The rest of the dinner was actually quite enjoyable. From what you could tell, Haruka and Jiro were mostly catching up with each other, which you understood since they were close their final year of high school. Tomo and Toru of One Ok Rock seemed to enjoy the stories Izumi was telling them while Ryota and Yui were having fun helping Ranmaru and Subaru practice their English. You loved talking with Taka. He was really easy to get along with and made it much easier to break the ice with Semi. You all finished your meals and left the restaurant together.

“That was the best meal I’ve had in forever!” Izumi announced when everybody was outside.

“Right? I cant way to try more food!” Jiro added on.

“What do you say guys?” You and Semi said simultaneously, crossing your arms and turning from each other.

“Thank you,” Your band members said all together.

“It’s nothing really,” Toru started.

“Yeah, we’re glad we got to meet like this,” Tomo added.

“We had a lot of fun tonight. Can’t wait to see what the rest of the tour will be like,” Ryota continued.

“You’re still very welcome. We’ll see you all tomorrow at the venue. Eita, Y/n, don’t forget, two in the afternoon for rehearsal. We’re heading back to our bus so good night,” Taka finished. The guys in One Ok Rock all waved you guys goodbye before heading off.

“They were really nice,” Subaru spoke.

“Yeah, this’ll be so exciting. It’s your guys first time in the US right?” Yui asked Won’t Regret.

“Yeah, thanks again for helping us practice,” Ranmaru said.

“No worries. You can ask us for help if needed.”

“Do you guys want us to walk you to your bus? It’s dark out,” Jiro offered, looking at Haruka for a response.

She smiled at him before responding, “Jiro you’re funny, our buses are in the same lot. We might as well just walk in a group.”

“Girls, you can head off. I’m gonna talk with Semi so I’ll catch up later.”

Yui was the first one to give you a worried look, wondering if you were fine being alone with him. Izumi and Haruka looked confused and curious. From what they knew, you haven’t been in contact with Semi since high school. Tendou was the one that mostly helped you through grieving the loss of your best friend but they could recognize the look of nostalgia in your eyes when you reminisced on old memories with him. They know you were strong, but it was a pain that never completely went away.

“How long?” Izumi asked.

“It might be a while,” Semi answered. “I’ll walk her back straight to your bus, don’t worry.”

The girls reluctantly let left you with Semi while the rest of boys accompanied them. As the groups walked away they would occasionally turn their heads back to the two of you out of curiosity to see what was going to happen. You were known for having a laid back attitude but stepping up and becoming assertive if need be in less than a second. Semi was typically pretty patient with you but it’s best to be careful since he has a shorter fuse.

“Hi,” Semi started awkwardly once his everyone was out of sight.

“Hey,” you responded in the same tone.

“Wanna go sit on that bench? Also, how’ve you been?”

“Yeah, and I’ve been good. You?”

He started walking across the street after looking both ways. “I’m doing great. How’s Tendou? Congrats on your marriage, by the way.”

“Marriage?” You asked confused.

“Didn’t you and Tendou get married and have a honeymoon in France?”

You let out a laugh before responding. “Tendou and I have been broken up for like three years now dude. I’ve never gone to France with Tendou, he went for his career and now lives there. I’ve only gone if it was for touring. Where’d you get that idea from?” You asked, gradually laughing harder resulting in Semi feeling relief. Half of it being that you might be single and the other part being that the laughing is a good sign that you’re willing to humor him.

“I saw he posted pictures of himself with the Eiffel Tower and stuff so I just assumed,” he chuckled along.

“Yeah but wouldn’t it make sense if I was in those pictures with him? I probably would’ve posted a picture of my ring too.”

“You know I follow you still?”

“Yeah, I pay attention to my notifications sometimes. I’ll be honest though, I did unfollow you.”

“Understandable,” Semi sighed.

You both went quiet after that, getting comfortable on the metal bench. Taking note of his expression, you took the lead for conversation. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh uh, I wanted to apologize,” he responded, grateful for the dim lighting so his blush wouldn’t be super noticeable.

“Well, I’m listening,” you said before crossing your arms in a playful manor.

“I’m sorry for calling you a bitch. I’m sorry for raising my voice at you. I’m sorry for saying all that petty shit and hurting you. I’m sorry for all the pain I gave you. You know that saying that’s like ‘you don’t know what you have until you lose it?’ Well I lost you, and that was my biggest regret. All these years-“

“Semi, you can stop-“ you interrupted not expecting him to go on a full on rant for an apology. You were fine with a simple ‘I’m sorry’. Never would you have expected the ash blonde to list out every thing he did wrong. It was high school, that’s when mistakes are meant to be made because you learn from them. After walking the earth for twenty four years, you couldn’t give less of a shit about the things that happened. You grew up, you were over it, you have other things to focus on than hold onto a grudge because someone hurt you.

“Let me finish. Please. All these years I never tried to reach out to you because I think you made it clear that you didn’t want to speak to me and I respect that but oh my god I’m so proud of you. You’ve accomplished so much. You’ve traveled around the world, living your dream. I know we may have ended on bad terms but I have never, not once, ever wished for your life to take a turn for the worst. I’m genuinely so happy for you. I’m just so, so, sor- What? Why are you crying? I’m the one apologizing!” he asked, raising his hands to wipe your tears.

While listening to him all you could think about was how guilty you felt. “Because I’m sorry,” You answered, grabbing his wrists to pull them away from your face so you could wipe your own tears. “I’m sorry for pushing you away. I’m sorry for not reaching out either. I’m sorry for almost starting a physical fight with you.” You were letting all your frustrations out at this point from all the emotions you had built up inside you. While you had to admit you were upset with him, you were the one that started it. “I shouldn’t have said what I said the night of the talent show. I should’ve told you the truth. I started this. I’m the one at fault.”

“Y/n...” Semi wrapped his arms around your back, using one hand to guide your face into his chest to help you calm down. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” His voice was soft, different compared to the way he was speaking before. His task at hand was just to focus on you. “I missed you,” he spoke.

“I hmff ugh oo,” you responded, head still buried in his chest.

“What?”

You pulled away from him and straightened your back. “I said I missed you too.” You took a couple seconds to look at him. He looked almost exactly the same as he did back then. The only differences you could tell were that his hair was longer and he looked more mature, maybe a little buffer. It was somewhat comforting. “I don’t get it. I told myself I should hate you after all that happened but I could never bring myself to accept it. It’s weird that we’re talking with little difficulty right now to each other.”

“Little difficulty? I’m not gonna lie, my heart is beating so fast right now. I was so nervous to even hand you my phone at the table,” Semi laughed, eyes not looking away from your form laughing into your hand. “I don’t get it either though. I honestly thought you were gonna hate me and yell at me like, do you really forgive me?”

“How do I say this?” You asked yourself before taking a deep breath to answer his question. “After graduating and experiencing the real world, I realized I don’t need to focus on high school bullshit. We were so young-“

“Now you’re making me feel old.”

“Shut up! We were just teens. Now we’re adults, ya know? With bills to pay and actual responsibility. I’d rather focus on me, myself now than what happened in high school. Am I gonna forget it? No, it helped build the person I am now. Can I forgive? I may be a petty bitch and say I don’t wanna but what’s that gonna do for me? Nothing so I might as well.” After giving your long explanation you looked at him again and took in his features, old happy memories flooding back to you.

“Do you think we start over?” Semi asked hopefully.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, I’m Semi Eita. I play in a band and I’m a bit of an asshole sometimes. What’s your name?”

“I’m L/n Y/n and I also play in a band and can sometimes be a bitch,” you responded with a laugh.

“It’s nice to meet you. Can I walk you to where you need to be?” he asked, getting up and putting his hand out to help you up.

“Sure, that’d be really nice.”

After he helped you up, you started walking towards your bus with Semi walking right next to you. “Hey I’m actually playing a show tomorrow night, you should check us out!”

“No way, what time?” You asked deciding to play along.

“Like seven but you know how it goes, it’ll probably be more like seven-fifteen.”

“Ugh that’s annoying. Can you come to mine? I think I play at like eight.”

“Sure, dude. Anything for my bestie.”

“Aight I’m done. Bestie is too far, dude.”

“What! I can’t call you my bestie even though we just reunited six years after not seeing each other?”

“Correct. We can be ‘friends’,” you said, using your fingers to put air quotes, “but honestly I’m still on edge. Like after we went our separate ways it was hard for me to reconnect with people because it hurt when we ended things. I don’t wanna go through that again.”

Semi sighed, “I get that. Sorry again. I promise I won’t do that again.”

“It’s okay. And you better. Or else we’re really throwing hands,” you teased.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Don’t make me go all WWE on you!”

“Oh my god Semi, is that a threat?”

“Y/n!” Izumi yelled which made you focus on your tour bus. The girls had each opened a window to stick their head out of and wait for your arrival.

“Are you okay?” Haruka asked.

“Do you want back up?” Yui followed up.

“I’m joking, Yui,” Semi said, putting his hands up in defense.

“You better, or else I’m gonna be the one fighting for y/n,” Haruka warned with a glare.

“I guess this is goodnight, Semi. You don’t want to throw hands with Haruka, she’s pretty buff. Thanks again. See you around,” you said as you waved him goodbye and hopped on the bus.

“See ya,” Semi responded. He turned around and threw his head upwards to the night sky and let out a sigh before walking to his bus.

Yui with her head still out of the window took notice of how Semi relaxed after you left him. “Hey, girly,” she started, getting up from her spot after closing the window. “You okay? How’d it go?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. It actually went surprisingly well.”

“That’s good news!” Izumi cheered.

“So are you friends again?” Haruka asked.

“Hmm, I guess so? We’re basically just starting over.”

“This tour is gonna be interesting,” Yui finished.

Getting back onto his bus, Semi immediately felt three pairs of eyes glued on him. Jiro set his Nintendo switch down while Subaru put his phone on his lap and Ranmaru stood up.

“We’ve been expecting you,” Ranmaru started with a straight face.

“Yeah!” Jiro added only to be shushed by Subaru.

“Well... good news?” Semi responded, not knowing what to make of the way his band mates were acting.

“Go on...” Subaru said, this time being shushed by Jiro.

“First, I’m gonna be a guest vocal for One Ok Rock with Y/n during their last song. Second, I told Y/n everything I needed to say. We’re friends again. We’re all good,” Semi said with a smile.

Ranmaru took a few steps closer to Semi before lovingly slapping his back. “Proud of you, bro.”

“Woooo! Go Eita!” Jiro jumped up to hype up his bandmate.

“Awesome!” Subaru finished. “Happy for you man. Now, I hate to be the mom here, but we should get to bed. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.”

“Good job guys!” Taka said, patting both of your backs.

“Thank you! Is there anything you want us to change?” You asked.

“Hmm, nah. I know most people say practice makes perfect but I think as the tour goes on we’ll improve the performance each night.”

“Sounds good,” Semi said.

“Can I give some feedback?” You asked. Taka and Semi both gave you a nod to go on. “You,” you pointed to Semi, “are being so stiff. It’s your first tour in the US. Loosen up! I’ll be blunt, if how to act now is how you’re gonna act during your set, which is the first one, you’re not gonna grab anyone’s attention. The majority of the crowd probably haven’t even heard of your band. You gotta draw them in.”

“I have to agree with her,” Taka joined in.

Semi grew wide eyed and turned a little red. You were about to speak up again but he beat you to it. “Sorry, I think I’m just nervous. This is all new to me,” he said, bringing a hand up to the back of his head.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to sound harsh! I just want you guys to grow. Being on tour right now is a big honor so I want you to get the most you can out of it. And-“

And you were rambling. Same old Y/n, Semi thought to himself, letting you ramble while he had a small smirk on his face, amused by the words you were speaking.

“Just perform how you would back then! I think if you brought that energy you’d really get a lot of people hooked!”

“Ya think so?”

“I know so. Can we try again but exaggerate our movements? This dude has to shape up.”

“I’ve heard so many stories about you mentoring the smaller bands, it’s nice to see that you live up to them,” Taka smiled.

“Thank you,” you responded with a blush. “Now Semi, follow our lead. And don’t let us down tonight.”

Taglist: @pluviophilefangirl @yourstarvic @sunaswife @mynscorner @syaziahvg @discountkiyoko

#haikyu #haikyuu!! #semi eita #semi eita x reader #semi haikyuu #semi x reader #haikyu x y/n #haikyu x reader

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Mistake Part 2

40 - “You can’t take her, please! I’ll do anything, I swear!” 41 - “She was nothing to you, was she? Then prove it.”

People wanted a part 2 and I live to please so here ya go.

Warnings: Kidnap, Implied Torture, Blood, Death, Language

Word Count: 1,594

******

Sweat clings to your skin, body heaving as you jog to a stop by a tree. 

The incessant buzzing in your pocket makes you sigh and you pull your phone out.

‘I’ll be there in five. Stop worrying.’ 

You send the message and continue your run. 

Weird gazes are sent in the direction of Wanda. She smiles back politely, her foot nervously tapping as she stands in the buildings lobby. 

You said five minutes. It’s been thirty. And you haven’t text or called. 

She pulls her phone out and dials your number, waiting as it rings then goes to voicemail. 

Becoming more and more worried, she leaves, heading to the park down the street from your apartment building.

After your break up with Natasha you’d moved out of the compound. It was one thing to know she didn’t want you, to then have to live with her as she is with Carol instead was too much. 

Surprisingly Wanda Maximoff was the first person to reach out to you after you left. The younger woman made sure you knew that she’d always be around if you needed anything, despite the fact that you two hadn’t had the strongest relationship.

That had changed after you left. She indeed made herself available for you and you even found yourself going on more missions together, and less with Natasha.

It was no secret that the two of you broke up. Everyone picked up on it the first few days after it happened, what with Natasha not being sickeningly sweet with you or vice versa. And then you left.

Steve wasn’t pleased with Natasha afterwards. The man had grown fond of you, you becoming one of his closest friends. Natasha had received the silent treatment from him, outside of missions. 

Even though the team knows about the break up, the world didn’t. To her enemies, you still proved to be her weakness. Resulting in your sudden abduction.

Wanda had immediately panicked when she arrived at the park to find police officers questioning a number of clearly shaken up people. 

Listening closely revealed to Wanda that you had been snatched up while leaving the park. Masked men pulled you into an unmarked van and sped away. Doing so in broad daylight meant being seen and a number of people had called the police. 

While Wanda is just now finding out about your abduction, Natasha is at the compound. Her hand clutches the phone as she listens to the threats on the other end.

“You can’t take her,” she starts off aggressive, but the thought of them getting you scares her,“ please! I’ll do anything, I swear!”

A deep, heavily accented voice replies,“ it’s too late for that Miss Romanova.” It’s quiet until she hears your screams in the back.“ you know where to find me Little Spider, come alone and no harm will be done to your little play thing.” 

Natasha had recognized the voice the second she heard it. It’s how she knows exactly where to go. And she goes alone, not wanting anything to happen to you.

Having done things like this a million times before, she makes her way through the building with ease. She only engages the scattered groups of armed men when necessary. And it doesn’t take long for her to find the room you’re being held in.

She enters, gun in hand, and widow’s bites at the ready. Only to freeze the second she sees you.

Cuts litter your exposed arms and legs, more obviously hidden underneath your tank top and shorts. Bruises are forming on your face and blood leaks from your head.

From the shadows behind you comes the woman that caused all of this. 

The other Russian woman watches Natasha, gaging her expression for any signs of weakness. Signs of love. For you. 

Natasha keeps her eyes on the woman. She knows how she thinks. If she didn’t believe you were Natasha’s weakness you never would’ve been snatched. If she shows it now, the woman won’t hesitate to kill you.

“Let her go. She has nothing to do with us.” Natasha speaks calmly, even though her heart is pounding.

“Oh, Natalia. If that were true you wouldn’t have come rushing here.” The woman’s head tilts.“ Tell me Natasha, what does she mean to you?” 

Her jaw clenches. She sees your head rolling as you struggle with consciousness.“ Nothing.”

The woman’s voice drips with pride, as if she’s won something,“ she was nothing to you was she?” Natasha’s eyes flicker to your body and back to the Russian in front of her, now holding a gun out.“ Then prove it.” 

Natasha stares at the weapon, reaching up to grip it in her hand. The metal presses into her hand and she squeezes it. 

“Ta- Tash,” you sigh the words, slipping in and out of consciousness,“ please.” 

Hearing your voice for the first time since being here shakes her to her core. She feels her heart break just a little bit more at the sound of your pleading.

“Prove it.” The woman demands. 

Bang!

The woman’s body slumps to the ground and Natasha rushes to your side. Producing a knife, she slices through the ropes tying you to the chair, and wastes no time pulling you into her arms. 

Under incredibly different circumstances you would’ve pulled away, but you’d just had the worst experience of your life and admittedly you’d missed the warmth of her body around yours.

Natasha’s sultry voice cried out apologies the second after she’d called for evac. You weren’t aware that she meant sorry for this and everything before.

After evac arrived Natasha watched helplessly as they wheeled you into the jet, but not once had she left your side. 

Her thoughts raced, heart pounding in regret. 

The whole situation had been a mistake. She was scared. Your relationship had progressed so smoothly. She would see the look in your eyes when you went to visit Clint and spent time with the kids, she saw how happy and natural you looked helping Laura in the kitchen.

No, you hadn’t ever said or even hinted at wanting a domesticated life with Natasha. In fact you always made it very clear that all you wanted was her. The few talks you’d had about the future revolved around traveling possibly and just being with the woman. 

But she thought too much. She knew she couldn’t give you half of what Clint had with Laura and she let her insecurities run wild. She suddenly found herself thinking that’s what you wanted.

The three months she spent away from you she had talked herself into sabotaging her own damn relationship. Despite Carol telling her not to do so. 

She’d seen how happy you made Natasha and how happy Natasha made you. She couldn’t have found a better couple if she tried. 

Her attempts at convincing Natasha didn’t work obviously. And apparently the Russian woman had gone as far as to lie about cheating on you with her. Carol was less than pleased with Natasha, the two had argued and have yet to speak since. 

But none of that mattered to Natasha right now. 

As she sits beside your unconscious form she regrets it all. Her heartbreaks all over again and she hates herself for it. And she knows there’s a chance you won’t forgive her. 

“Wipe those tears Romanoff, I’m not worth them.” 

Your voice had barely come out as whisper but she heard it and it made even more tears fall from her eyes. 

Her hand squeezes yours,“ you are. You’re worth it and so much more. You are worth the moon and the stars and I’m sorry for ever making you think otherwise.” 

“I’m not dying Natasha, so please don’t.” 

She shakes her head,“ it was a mistake Y/n. Ruining what we had it was a mistake. I don’t want Carol. After I met you there was no one else in the world I ever could’ve wanted.”

You frown, hand twitching in hers as you look over at her. 

Green eyes meet yours for the first time in months. Unlike when you’d last seen them, emotions swim through them like the tears she’s shed. 

In that emerald you see every ounce of love you use to see. Mixed in them you also see regret. 

“That’s not what you said before.” 

“I lied. I was scared and I lied.” Through her tears she explains it all to you. She tells you everything she’d been feeling and all her thoughts.

By the time she’s done you feel better. No it wasn’t okay that she’d lied. Not by a long shot. But she still loves you. 

Taking a deep breath in, you release it and say,“ we have a lot to talk about. Like you lying to me and your lack of communication. But maybe we should do that when I’m not in a hospital bed.”

Natasha nods frantically, leaning down to kiss your hand,“ I’m sorry,” she apologizes again,“ I love you and I never should’ve told you other wise.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” You let a pause of silence go by.“ I love you too.” 

The red head’s heart soars. 

She knows that things between you two aren’t perfect, far far from it. She knows there are a million and one issues that needs to be addressed. But right now she just focuses on you.

Whatever future awaits you both, she’s ready for it, as long as it’s with you. And she’s never going to make the mistake of hurting you again.

******

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #reader insert #mistake #asks #request

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ twenty-four

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ word count: 6k ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ chapter warning: depictions of an explosion in this chapter, as well as short mention of torture. please read with caution ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

act three ➻ part six

​​​

You’re off the ship again today. Despite Hongjoong’s near breakdown yesterday, Seonghwa dropped by early in the morning to say that everyone had a day off to relax and recover. He and Hongjoong still had meetings to take care of, so even with Hongjoong’s insistence about a lack of time, he can’t do anything about it quite yet. Not until the end of his meetings today at least. Yunho was the only person excited to hear the news, and that’s only because he wanted to drag you out by the heels to visit the capital today. Something about seeing that festival he had mentioned to you before and showing you all the beautiful things Reinig has to offer? Said man is currently speaking to you, but his words go in one ear and out the other. You don’t intend to blatantly ignore him; something else occupies your attention, and that’s the white flakes falling from the sky.

Snow.

Some would probably be surprised to hear it, but you’ve never actually seen snow in person. Rain, hail, lightning three feet from where you’re standing – never snow. It’s something fascinating to you. The way it clings to the mask that’s tugged up over your nose and ghosts over your bare arms. It was probably a mistake to wear a sleeveless shirt, but you had to find a turtleneck that could cover the marks Seonghwa left along your neck days ago, and this was the only thing you had left in your drawers. Maybe it’s time to ask Jongho to wash your clothes for you again, but you had to do a full week of scrubbing the pots and pans he cooked burnt meals with, and that was a new form of torture in and of itself.

Someone – or something – catches hold of your hand, and you jerk to look up at Yunho despite him being on the opposite side of you. He blinks back with wide and confused eyes for several seconds before you realize that he’s not the one holding you. When you shift to the look to your right, it’s Wooyoung who smiles at you, his lips stretched wide and flashing his toothy grin.

“You looked a bit conflicted,” he says, tugging you forward and away from Yunho. The healer releases a small sigh but doesn’t stop Wooyoung from pulling you further into the streets.

“I was thinking about cleaning the dishes again,” you admit, and even though it sounds like a lie, it truly isn’t. Wooyoung scoffs.

“Don’t remind me. It’s my week to take a knife to the pan and chip off the burnt food.”

“You know, maybe if you chuck the pans out the airlock, no one will notice?”

“Jongho will whine about his precious pots and pans being gone. Since – what is it he says? The burnt bits give the food flavor?” Wooyoung grimaces a little, shaking his head. He still has a hold on your wrist, and you glance down to try to insinuate your discomfort with the prolonged touch. Something catches your eye before you can voice the discomfort though, and that’s a simple beaded bracelet over his tanned skin. You’ve never seen him wearing it before; the green and blue intertwined threads unfamiliar to you, along with the small beads running over the thread. Wooyoung catches your lingering stare and tugs his hand away from yours quickly. A breathy laugh falls from his lips. When he faces forward, you glance back to where Yunho walks alongside Yeosang, your stare settling on the latter of the two. He stares right back at you, lips set in a thin line. Rather than meeting that stare, you drop your gaze to his wrist and find what you assumed would be there. The same bracelet that Wooyoung has, only wrapped around his right wrist and not his left like Wooyoung.

“I, uh–” You start as you look back towards Wooyoung, but he cuts you off before you can finish the thought.

“It’s a charm for protection and good health,” he says under his breath. He gnaws at his lower lip, looking suddenly self-conscious and shy about the bracelets. “I was only gonna get one for Yeo, but… he got one for me too. Just in case.”

“Just in case,” you repeat. There’s no inquiry in your tone, but Wooyoung takes it as a question anyway and continues to explain.

“He just wants to protect me. He’d do anything to keep me safe.”

“The two of you are really close then?” You already know the answer to that question, so you aren’t sure what comes over you or why you need to ask it.

“Of course we are,” Wooyoung answers. His tone grows quiet, and there’s the faintest hint of a smile over his lips as he speaks again. “Before joining the crew, Yeosang was all I had, and I was all Yeosang had.” You squint at the man, eyes darting over the block of metal around his neck, then back at Yeosang, who doesn’t bear the same adornment.

“Wh-Why doesn’t he – you know, have… one like you?” You point to your own neck rather than Wooyoung’s, but the man understands what you mean regardless. Wooyoung’s smile melts into a gentle frown. Not in a way that shows any signs of discomfort or anger, rather just a frown where Wooyoung looks to the side and thinks for a moment.

“Yeosang had one at some point after he left the military and was branded a traitor, yeah. In order for me to break him out of jail, there was a cost. And that cost was me.”

“Wh… What did you do?” Wooyoung merely shrugs at first.

“The only thing I knew. I sold myself to free Yeosang. Freed only to be thrown back into slavery. Almost ironic, huh? But Yeo got dragged down with me and made a slave too, so… my plan backfired, I suppose.” You have more questions, more things on your mind, and more you want to know, but Wooyoung shuts that down in an instant without you even saying anything. “I’d like to forget those memories for now though, if that’s okay with you?”

“N-No, yeah. Um, yes, yeah, that’s fine.” Wooyoung nods back at you, a grateful smile playing at his lips, and you smile back even though he can’t see the grin behind your mask. The two of you stay beside each other despite the silence, and it isn’t anything uncomfortable – at least not for the time being. That is until Wooyoung tugs you towards a small stall near the edge of the road. You tug your mask down to take a deep breath of air and look over the contents in front of you. You pay no attention to the man behind the stall, just focusing on what Wooyoung is trying to direct you to, but the merchant’s voice pulls you away from Wooyoung’s.

“Well, aren’t you something special?” His eyes are too warm as they graze over your features. You respond with a sharp glare rather than words. “Your friend has a collar, but you don’t. Well-behaved, is it? You there, the blond! How much for the runt?”

The word hits you square in the chest, and you aren’t even sure why. The memory that hits you a second later explains it, but the feeling that washes over you makes you wish it had stayed in the dark.

“Fucking runt.”

A searing pain across your cheek. You can’t even look up at the officer who struck you, tears burning the corners of your ears, and all you can do it stare at the dirt in defeat.

“Don’t touch her!”

Jisung. Jisung? Why did Jisung come? This was your mission, not his.

“Jisu– no!”

The hand that just struck you comes down on Jisung next, knocking him to the ground with too much ease. It sends Jisung sprawling, and his body looks too much like a ragdoll for your liking. He sits up a second later, eyes flashing with rage. Blood trickles from his lip and browbone – a bit of the droplets catching on his long eyelashes – and he stares forward at the officer.

“I said don’t fucking touch her. You don’t own her, and she doesn’t belong to you. So hands off, you piece of shit.”

“She’s not for sale.” It takes a second for you to realize that the voice is real and not in your head, not Jisung’s, and when you glance up, it’s Yeosang who stands beside you. He glares forward at the merchant, hand pressed against the gun in his thigh holster. “And she’s not a slave.”

If only it were that easy and the man weren’t so adamant.

“Oh, come now. Don’t be shy! I’ll treat her well.” His hand darts out faster than you expect, and you brace yourself for an impact that never comes.

“I said she’s not a slave. Is that not clear to you?” You crack an eye open to look forward. Wooyoung has his hand in front of your face, blocking your line of sight with the merchant, and his gaze is so intensely melancholic that you freeze under it in an instant. His hand comes down gently on the side of your head. His lip waves up and down, a sign that he wants to say something, and he’s trying to say something but nothing comes out.

“I’ll offer triple the usual price for a female! Especially since she seems to have some meat on her bones! Double for the boy if he can handle some prostitution work too.”

“I’ll fucking murd–”

“Oh no! It’s okay. Really not for sale. No deal, no bargain!” Yunho interrupts as he pushes his way in front of Yeosang before the man can pull his pistol out. His hand closes around Yeosang’s right arm, reaching all the way around his body to grab onto him and keep him from moving further. “Neither of them are for sale, but thank you. We’ll just be going now.”

Yunho’s lips stretch into a tight smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes, and he pushes Yeosang further away from the stall before the merchant can make any further remarks.

“You should’ve let me ki–”

“And cause a commotion? No. It’s fine. He didn’t touch either Y/N or Wooyoung, right?” Yunho shifts to look at the two of you, Wooyoung’s hand still pressed oddly against the side of your head. You turn to Yunho and pull away from Wooyoung, his hand slipping out and falling uselessly by his side. Yunho keeps waiting for a response from one of you, and you finally shake your head in denial. “See? Everything is fine, Yeosang.”

Yeosang doesn’t appear to believe the same. He brushes Yunho’s touch off and moves further into the streets. Wooyoung doesn’t even hesitate – he chases after the blond on quick feet, hand slipping into his with little effort and resistance, and their steps align. Yunho comes up along your side, one of his large hands folding over yours. You flinch at the suddenness of his touch and jerk your head to face him. He smiles back at you, grin soft around the edges, and his fingers slip between yours. He must notice the hints of confusion in your stare because he speaks up before squeezing your hand tighter.

“Seonghwa said this has helped you relax and calm down some before.”

“O-Oh,” you exhale with a small nod. You’re tempted to ask what else Seonghwa has told him – the nagging panic of wondering whether Seonghwa mentioned anything about your identity – but you keep your mouth shut and decide not to say anything else.

“You look like you didn’t get any rest,” Yunho notes as he starts tugging you along the streets. Your first instinct is to draw closer to his side, shoulder brushing his arm and your hands trapped between your thighs.

“A nightmare kept me up.”

You figured someone would ask about your haggard appearance and dark circles eventually, but you don’t particularly want to revisit the dream you had the night before. You have no idea where Seonghwa was last night; you didn’t see him after leaving the bridge. It would be a lie to say that you didn’t watch your door and wait to hear a knock on the other side, but it never came and you fell asleep alone. His presence was sorely missed in the Dreamscape. Your past’s ghosts refused to leave you alone, though you should’ve known something was wrong because of the way the moon was shrouded by dark and looming clouds.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Running. The memories of the dream are hazy, but you remember running through a dark forest as voices followed. All asking why you were running, but you don’t even know why you were either. And then Jisung appeared before you. He looked as though he hadn’t changed one bit in the past few years, with his gentle and rounded features and a soft smile sent your way, but that crumbled into a frown.

“Why do you keep running from the past? From me?”

You have yet to think about what that means. You aren’t even sure what you’re running from because it used to be an attempt to keep everyone out of your life rather than in it. Now that seems to have morphed into something else entirely, but what that something else is exactly still eludes you.

“No, I’m not even sure what it means,” you admit, bringing your free hand up to tug your mask back over your nose.

Except you think you do have an idea of what it means. Jisung’s confrontation in your dream sent you to the ground, except when you fell, there was no ground to catch you and you entered a freefall. The moon was suddenly before you, and you were falling from its red abyss, tumbling through the air with no direction or reason until you hit the black lake with a thud and a splash. You rolled onto your hands and knees, staring down into the water only to find that the reflection looking back at you wasn’t your own. It was Hyunwoo. And the second you saw him, your hands moved on their own and came to close around his throat, pushing him under the water. No matter how much you screamed for it to stop, it never did. And once he was dead under your hands, he looked up at you and blamed you for his death. So yes, you think you have an idea of what that dream meant, and the growing pit of guilt in your gut only furthers your suspicions.

“Well, if and when you’re ready to talk about it, I’m always here.”

“You need a better hobby,” you scoff, eyes scanning the streets as Yunho continues to tug you along.

“Unfortunately, my hobby is to make sure none of you keel over and die from exhaustion, so you get to deal with me a little while longer because of that.”

“Disappointing.” You huff out a sigh again and glance up at the sky to watch the snowflakes fall from a new perspective. Against the glittering lights of the festival, the snow seems so bright and cheery. Warm, almost, despite its naturally cold state. The shouts and yells surrounding you aren’t ones of panic or pain either; all hold a joy and happiness that feels a bit foreign to you. You squeeze Yunho’s hand tighter as though it’ll provide some comfort, and it does when he returns the squeeze with one of his own. “You said… your mother used to bring you here?”

“Yes,” Yunho replies, a soft smile playing at his lips. “There’s always lots of families here. Like… one calm day in the year.” He pauses to look down at you. “It’s nice to come here with the family I got to choose and not the one I was given.”

“Yeah, that’s…” You trail off, unsure of where you were going with the train of thought, but Yunho speaks again after a moment and saves you from having to talk.

“I noticed San leaving your room last night. Are the two of you on better terms now?”

“Yeah, we’re doing fine, I suppose. I, uh, I-I told him about my t-time in the military.” Yunho’s smile stretches wider, and he just stares at you without saying anything for several seconds. “Why the hell do you look like that? It’s so weird. Why do you have to do that?”

“I’m just proud! You’re opening up. I’m glad.”

“It’s because of you,” you mutter, turning your head away from Yunho, so you don’t have to see any arrogance across his features.

“What?”

“Thank you! I said thank you,” you grumble. The heat of embarrassment hits your neck and creeps up your cheeks, and you know Yunho is looking at you, but you still try to avoid his stare. “I’m grateful that you’ve been patient with me even when I know I’m difficult.”

“You could say that again, yeah.”

“Shut up and let me finish.”

“Okay, damn. No need to get aggressive!”

“I’m grateful for San and his stupid big heart too. And for Seonghwa and–”

“That dick?” Yunho cuts in, a loud laugh tearing through his chest. You swing your free hand up to smack his shoulder. “Ow!”

“Stop that!”

“Okay, okay!” He laughs as he shies away from another half-hearted swing from you. “But are you grateful for it?”

“Oh my god, shut up. I’m grateful that he’s there to comfort me.”

“With that dick?” Yunho teases again. “Listen, Y/N. Everyone has their coping mechanisms. There’s no need to be ashamed if the Lieutenant’s dick is yours.”

“Say one more word, and I am going to put my fist through your face.”

Yunho scoffs at your response. “So much for gratitude!”

You open your mouth to respond, but a loud shout cuts you off, which sounds quite different from the typical mirthful ones you hear around you. No, this one is full of rage and anguish, and Yunho picks up on it as well. You both turn to find the source of the sound. As you move, Yunho tugs you closer to his side as though he’s expecting the worst.

“Hold on,” he mumbles before pulling you closer to the yelling. A woman comes into view, standing atop a rickety wooden box and holding a large and crudely painted sign. The message on it is more than apparent. The insignia of the military of Aurum with a red smear through the middle, the same emblem you used to bear on your lapel. Her voice becomes loud and clear the closer you get to her.

“Do not trust your military so blindly! Listen to my words and hear me with your own child at your sides and in your arms!”

You’re hit out of the blue with a sudden and violent flashback, a memory you don’t even recall having.

Strong arms yanking you forward, fingers closed around your bicep.

“The military steals them!”

Weak cries for help and attempts to pull away. A cold chair against your back, then the touch of rough leather straps coming over your wrists and ankles.

“Takes your children and brainwashes them with no hesitation or guilt!”

Writhing and kicking to get out of the chair, only to be hit across the temple with a sharp jab.

“Steals all their memories and makes them cruel and unfeeling soldiers!”

A stab of a needle, a syringe going into your skin, a strange blue liquid being pushed into you. Warmth, then the feeling of your blood turning to ice.

“They stole my son when he was only fourteen. Took him from my grasp and wiped away all his memories of me!”

Your mouth forced open and something being shoved deep inside. Red. So much red. Hands coming down on your head. Then – nothing.

You grab for Yunho, moving your hand from his to cling to his forearm desperately. He looks back at you with wide eyes and rests a hand atop yours.

“I-I… they – they did that to me, Yunho. I th-think they took my memories away.” The crowd around the woman is getting larger by the second, disgruntled rumblings among them. Yunho glances over to where Yeosang and Wooyoung wandered off.

“We need to get you out of here. If anyone recognizes you, there will be trouble. Same with Yeosang. And if a riot breaks out, we won’t be alone for much longer, and the military will be forced to come in. Come on.” Yunho tugs your arm lightly and tries to shoulder his way through the crowd for both of you. You do your best to stay close to him, hand still wrapped around his arm, but a sudden blast tears you away from him in seconds.

It happens too quickly for you to process what exactly happened. All you know is that you are no longer beside Yunho, ears ringing and echoing with shouts of unrest and pain. You pull yourself up to look around. The people who were just standing have been flung to the ground, and the small box where the old woman stood is gone. She is gone as well, but you don’t make an effort to look for her in favor of finding Yunho’s distinctly colored head of hair. The ringing in your ears bleeds out and lets the yells and screams come into focus.

“Death to the kingdom!”

“Death to the enemy!”

You yank your mask down to gasp for fresh air, but the searing pain of smoke fills your lungs instead.

“Y/N!” Yunho appears before you looking none the worse for wear aside from a bit of dirt over his forehead. “Come on. We have to go right now.”

“What’s going on?” You ask as he helps you to your feet. You try not to look at the bodies around you, unsure of which are alive and which are not, and the cries aren’t helping ease your concerns in the slightest. Your mind drifts back to Yeosang and Wooyoung. “Where are Yeosang and Wooyoung?”

“It’s a riot. People tend to get… violent like this, but I’ve never known them to leave bombs or traps like that. Especially on innocent civilians. That woman – s-she did this. The bomb was under her box. Why? What problems does violence solve?” Yunho shakes his head, looking off towards the spot where that woman was standing before. He tugs his satchel forward and goes to open the front flap. “I need to help these people.”

“No! No, Yunho, we have to go,” you insist. “If we try to stay, we’ll get caught or die.” Yunho’s breath catches in his throat, then a deep sigh slips out.

“You’re right, yeah. We need to find Yeosang and Wooyoung.”

“Could they have already gone back to the ship too?”

“Yeah, but… if one of them is hurt — no, no. Let’s head back. They’re okay, I can feel it. They’ve got to be.”

You feel around your thigh in search of your pistol, but the weapon is gone.

“I can’t find my gun.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. You won’t need it. If we move now, no one should stop us.” Yunho drops a hand to your back, pressing between your shoulder blades and pushing you forward. “We just need to keep moving.”

You imagine this is harder on Yunho than it is on you. Those suspicions are confirmed when you see how he continues to cling to his satchel full of emergency supplies. The pressure against your back never lets up for a second, and it seems to be the only thing keeping him grounded for the time being. He was right though; all the civilians around you are too busy and panicked to be looking at you, and you think that you’re in the clear until you near the ship’s docking hangar.

“You there! Don’t move!” Yunho freezes before you do, and his hand falls away from your shoulder to grasp at the gun strapped to his thigh. The man before you seems too ordinary to be a soldier, but he holds up a gun as he steps in front of the two of you. The hangar isn’t too far away behind him; if you make a break for it, you might be able to escape him with little issue. “You’re awfully stupid to be walking around with that mask not on your face.”

It takes a moment for you to realize that he’s speaking to you. The thug shifts the pistol to your head, and you stare down the barrel to look into his dark eyes. You only see him for a few seconds. Yunho steps in front of you after that, blocking your line of sight and the pistol’s target.

“You must be mistaken. We’re just trying to get back to our ship.”

“I’ll shoot you too if you dare take a step further!” The thug snaps, pistol clicking as he shifts the gun to Yunho. You lean to look past Yunho’s broad shoulders and eye the thug with a wary gaze. Yunho is slow in his movements, but he pulls his own pistol out, aiming it at the thug in return.

“Move, or else you’ll lose your life,” he threatens, voice deceptively flat.

“Not a chance. She’s got a fat bounty on her head. Dead or alive. I’m taking her in dead.”

Yunho shifts his hand and clears his throat. The gleam in his eyes is threatening, and you would be afraid to be in the thug’s position if not for the way Yunho’s hand trembles. He can’t hold the gun still, shaking fingers trying and failing to tighten around the trigger.

“Go. I don’t want to kill you,” Yunho hisses out through gritted teeth.

“Are you stupid? I’m not going anywhere!”

“Take the damn shot, Yunho,” you plea, pressing a hand against Yunho’s shoulder. Despite your words, Yunho still doesn’t move his finger. You would admire his determination and resolve if it wasn’t your life and his on the line. Thus, you push forward and wrap your hand around Yunho’s. He lets the gun slip into your hand, and within a second, you shoot the thug point blank between the eyes. A choked noise leaves Yunho’s lips, but you merely turn back to him and pass the pistol back to him. He won’t look at you, hands still frozen in place. The gun hangs loosely from his fingers.

“H-He – you… you didn’t ha-have to k-ki–” Yunho can’t finish the sentence. You don’t wait for him to either, snatching the gun back from his hands and shoving it into your thigh holster.

“What did you want me to do? Give him the benefit of the doubt? He said he would kill us, Yunho.”

“But I could’ve – we could’ve ta-talked him down and–”

“And what? Don’t be foolish, Yunho. There was no other option. Your job may be to save people, but mine… mine is to kill them.”

“You shot him. You shot him. K-Killed him.”

“And? I protected you, didn’t I?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah. You did. Thank you.” You want to console Yunho more, help him be less shaken up somehow, but you don’t get the chance.

“Hey! Guys!” It’s Wooyoung’s voice that breaches your ears, and you’re glad to hear it. Any more encounters with thugs like this one might break Yunho. You shift to look towards the source of Wooyoung’s voice. He has Yeosang’s arm draped over his shoulders, holding tight onto his hand with one of his own, and the blond seems to be on the verge of unconsciousness. It’s enough to kick Yunho’s ass back into gear. He rushes over to the pair and hurries to lift Yeosang off Wooyoung’s shoulders and onto his own.

“What happened? Yeosang, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

“We were hit by the blast,” Yeosang grits out.

“Yeosang jumped in front of me just as the explosion went off. He dislocated his shoulder coming down, but I put it back in place. He’s a little battered and bruised, but that’s all,” Wooyoung explains, chest heaving a bit. Sweat pours from his brow, and it’s evident that he’s been carrying the brunt of Yeosang’s weight the whole way back.

“I’ll help him onto the ship, okay? Let’s get going.” Yunho tugs Yeosang forward and hoists him up a bit to carry him better. You linger by Wooyoung’s side, eyes following Yunho and Yeosang as they walk along, and Wooyoung does the same for a while.

“Are you okay?” You ask once the silence between you grows unbearable. “Did you get hurt?”

“N-No,” Wooyoung stutters, shaking his head a few times. “Yeosang blocked me from the blast. I don’t even have a scratch.”

“I meant mentally.”

“Oh, um, yeah. Just a bit shaken up. That was too close for my liking.” You press your lips into a frown but opt not to say anything else, focusing on the ground in front of you as the two of you follow Yunho and Yeosang to the ship. “Are you alright?”

The question catches you a bit off-guard. You try not to let it show, but your breath catches on saliva when you open your mouth to respond, and you choke on spit. You cough through it, Wooyoung’s worried gaze causing a surge of embarrassment to rush through you.

“I’m fine, yeah. Maybe a little smoke in my lungs, but that’s it.”

“I wasn’t talking about the explosion.” Your brows knit together in confusion. “When we were at the stall with the merchant… you – I noticed the look on your face. You were afraid that he was going to hit you.”

“T-That? It was nothing. Just a gut reaction.” Wooyoung whips his head towards you, and his hand darts out to close around your wrist.

“A gut reaction doesn’t look like that. I recognized it, Y/N. From my tim–”

“Stop. Don’t… don’t press me for answers. You won’t get any.” You were never a slave. Have never been one and never will be. But something about the way Wooyoung looks at you makes you feel like you were. Because as much as you don’t want to admit it, you were afraid of the merchant striking you after calling you a runt. Wooyoung thankfully falls into silence after that, and his grip on your arm leaves as well. You stare forward at Yunho’s back rather than looking over to Wooyoung. That silence persists even after you climb back onto the ship. No one is there to greet you – not that you were expecting it, but it’s at least nice to know there wasn’t any sort of emergency while you were gone.

“I’m taking Yeosang to the medbay to check his shoulder and make sure there’s no further damage,” Yunho announces, glancing back over his shoulder at you and Wooyoung. You merely offer a nod in response, but Wooyoung moves forward to press against Yeosang’s side.

“I’ll come with.”

“Okay, Woo.” Yunho offers a small smile of reassurance, then looks back at you as though waiting for you to say something.

“I’m just gonna shower and get cleaned up. Go ahead.” You watch them walk down the corridor without moving, only shaking yourself out of your thoughts and following after them once they round the corner. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, the exhaustion is settling into your bones. There’s a bit of dirt and blood on your hands, though the blood isn’t yours, and you have no idea where it came from either.

“Damn, you look like shit.”

You lift your chin upon hearing the voice, not even noticing the heavy steps of the people approaching you until they’re right in front of you. Jongho and San stand before you. Both bear concerned expressions complete with knitted brows and slight frowns, so you try to reassure them with a lopsided grin.

“I feel like it too,” you joke. Jongho huffs out a laugh, but the concern doesn’t leave his face.

“What the hell happened? And where are the others?” He asks, arms coming to rest over his chest.

“There was a bit of an explosion in the marketplace.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Yeosang got hurt, but Yunho has him in the medbay. Wooyoung went with them.”

“Shit, how bad? No, wait, nevermind. I’ll go check in on him right now.” Jongho turns on his heel and walks back in the direction he must’ve come from, off towards the medbay. San glances at him out the corner of his eye but doesn’t move to follow, remaining in front of you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks after a breath of silence.

“Yeah,” you insist with a sharp nod of your head. He reaches out to you all of a sudden, hand coming to rest on the side of your head. You aren’t sure what he’s doing, but it’s just like what Wooyoung did to you outside the stall with that merchant. The gesture feels completely different with San though. An attempt for comfort and not one that’s defensive as Wooyoung’s was. Seconds later, you are being pulled against his chest, and he drapes his arms over your shoulders to cling tighter to your body. The suddenness of the hug causes your breath to catch, but you settle against him when a light laugh hits your ear.

“What would’ve happened if you died out there?” He asks, the lightness and mirth leaving his voice in an instant. “And I wasn’t there to be with you. What would I have done if you died before I told you how much I care about you?”

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest. The words choke you and take the breath out of your lungs with little to no effort. San just continues to push the invisible knife further into your chest.

“I’m scared. Each step closer feels like ten steps apart. I fear that by the end of this, one of us will be gone. But… I want to cling to you for however long I can,” he whispers against the shell of your ear.

“I-I just – I don’t know who I am,” you mutter back, trying to keep your voice quiet, so it doesn’t break. “The more I – the more I learn about myself, and the more I remember, the less I feel like I know myself. The bounties, the reports, the tales they tell about me – they all say that I’m strong, dangerous, cold-hearted, unapologetic. But I just feel like I’m broken glass that’s been put back together the wrong way.” San huffs out another laugh against your skin, and it causes a quick chill to run up your spine.

“Then I’ll take you apart and put you back together the right way.”

“Careful, Choi San. I might believe you can do it.” You fall quiet for a few moments, words catching in your throat, and when you speak again, you sound much more fragile than you like. “Thank you. I know I don’t know it well or often but… I am really grateful for you. And you’re the only reason why I’m still here and alive. So, yeah, I’m grateful for it and for you. While I still don’t feel like I deserve it, I’m grateful that you care about me because it makes me feel needed.”

“Hongjoong and Seonghwa found me as a thief. The others found me as a weapon, as Spectre. But you found me as San. I’m still trying to figure out who that San is and what it means, but for once, I think — I think I have an opportunity to be saved.” The warmth of his lips touches the side of your head a moment later. You squeeze your arms a bit tighter around his torso. You think he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t get the chance. Somewhere behind you, someone clears their throat. You pull back from San in an instant and turn to face the person, finding Seonghwa’s tall form several feet away. The expression on his features is unreadable, but you aren’t sure you want to try and figure it out anyway.

“Sorry to interrupt, but… Hongjoong asked to see you on the bridge, Y/N.” A breath of hesitation, just long enough to cause a spike of anxiety in your gut. “Alone.”

✧✧✧ a/n: hello guys ;-; i missed yall so much. im sorry this is coming out later than usual; life really kicked my ass this week between a whole mess of public stuff and personal stuff i dealt with for the past few days. i'm feeling better now but still not 100% so please be patient with me as i heal some 🥺 in any case, i hope you guys enjoy this chapter, the next one is the end of act three! we've got so much more to come and i can't wait for it :c

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[caermis]

❝Love❞ Ch. 1

❦BNHA! Various X Black!Reader ❦Characters:  ⇻Izuku Midoriya ⇻Mirio Togata ❦Warnings: None ❦Plot: “Y/N L/N. Thank you for your help.” -H.E.R.O Ward Association, Block 15. A young 20-year-old, that has been chosen as the right choice to raise 10 Installments. That are Children? ❦Notes: ⇻This does not involve Pedophilia, Hebephilia, or Ephebophilia(Nothing to do with a sexual attraction towards literal children) -G/BsF/N = Best Friend’s name

❝Ch.1❞  ❝Ch.2❞

Chapter One

A New Mother's Dismay

Midoriya & Togata

I am Y/N L/N

Her E/C eyes silently watched the striped ball roll to her feet, before trailing up the group of kids in front of her. They were all faceless, and their voice held no real warmth or joy, but they screamed the 10-year-old's name. Over and Over and Over. Asking her to play or pass the ball to them. Slowly picking up the ball, taking slow steps before speeding up excitedly. They cheered her name, waiting for her. Before she tripped over her own feet. Tumbling to the ground, the ball rolled back to the other kids. Feeling tears prick her eyes, before slowly sitting up. Only this time, the kids frowned at her, and picked the ball up, and walked away.

I am Y/N L/N

I stared at the red F- on my test; I gripped my skirt, trying to stop the tears at my failure. The faceless high school students chuckled and turned from me like I wasn't even worth bullying. Like I didn't exist. I was alone. I am alone. Repeating those words, I looked into the mirror and watched my face morph into the kind face of my mother. I would never be like her.

I am Y/N L/N

My feet dragged against the pavement, I casually walked home. I sighed. I was currently a university student, who was after their Master's degree in literature. Having published a book, when I was 18, lucky it allowed me to get a scholarship and buy a house, still didn't mean I wouldn't have to get a thankless job.

Luckily working at the University Cafe wasn't extremely bad. Tiredly lifting my arm, iLuckily,t was already 9 pm, and the sun had set a few hours ago, but the streets were still lively, with other College students going out on dates. Seeing my apartment building in the distance, I let out a sigh and took out the gate key. Inputting my pin code, I opened the metal gate and slipped inside and let out a yawn. Staggering up the steps, I walked down the hall, just wanted to get inside and change into something comfortable, until I noticed a package in front of my door.

Walking up to the brown cardboard box, my name written decoratively in sharpie. Lifting the box, I quickly unlocked my front door and slipped inside. Kicking my shoes off and locking the door, I walked into the living room and placed the box on the coffee table. Using my keys, I ripped through the tape and began to open the box. A white card rested on top of a black box, my fingers grabbing the card and reading over it.

A gift.

-H.E.R.O Ward Association. Block 15

"What..." Placing the card aside, I pulled out the large black box and took off its plastic wrapping, my fingers running along the metal of it, before opening it. I yanked my hands away, staring wide-eyed at the money inside. I slapped my hands over my mouth and stared at it, before grabbing the note on top and reading it. 

Y/N L/N,

Congratulations! You have been chosen as the direct Caretaker of Block 15: U.A-L.O.V. This is part of your payment, once receiving an installment, which is 200'000 per Installment. This amount has been doubled as of today, due to [REDACTED] circumstances. Expect the arrival between this week or next week.

Thank you,

-H.E.R.O Ward Association. Block 15

I bite my bottom lip, closing the box. So it wasn't a mistake. Grabbing my computer, I started to look at the H.E.R.O Ward Association. Finding absolutely nothing or anything I did find was restricted. I stared back at the box, thinking of ways to get rid of it or return it. I didn't sign up for this, but something told me I couldn't get out of this predicament. 

“John! A Number 15! For Mary!” You called out before turning back to the woman behind the counter. “That’ll take just a minute.” Mary smiled and turned from the counter, going back with her friends. Seeing that was the last person, I let out a sigh. Just happy that the lunch rush was over. 

Rocking on my heels, I glanced over the cafe, before locking eyes with a tall boy with blonde hair. Dread immediately filled my stomach as he smiled brightly and proudly walked towards the register, making exaggerated movements with his arms.  

I watched him with a raised eyebrow as he came closer, just spotting a short boy with green hair stumble after him. Upon reaching the counter, he smiled. “Are you L/N-san?” I nodded and watched his smile get bigger and he pulled out a white card and passed it to me. 

Y/N L/N, The first installment. 1/10

Name: Mirio Togata. Age: 9 Block 15: Permeation

Looking from the note back to Miro then looking away from the blonde boy and yelling into the back. “I’m heading out early! It’s an emergency!” Turning back to Mirio, he stared at me with happy blue eyes. “You're very pretty L/N-san.” Giving a half-assed smile, you slipped off your apron and moved around the counter, just spotting the green-haired boy as he hid behind Mirio. “Oh! This is Izuku. He’s 7 and shy. Say hi and give L/N-san your card.” Miro ushered Izuku forward, making him almost trip but catch himself and fumble with his fingers, and pull out a card, quickly pass it to me and hide behind Mirio. 

Y/N L/N, The first installment. 1/10

Name: Izuku Midoriya. Age: 7 Block 15: One for All

Not having time to go over the details, crouched down and stared at them. Offering your hand. “Let’s go get something to eat.” Mirio excitedly grabbed my hand, while Izuku slowly grabbed mine. Standing up, I walked with the two boys, heading towards the pizza parlor, mentally thankful that I left my backpack at home, and that I kept my wallet, phone, and keys on you. 

Finding a table in the back, I left them here to get a medium-sized pepperoni, half cheese pizza. Paying for the meal, I went back to the table, waiting for my name to be called. “Thank you, L/N-san,” Izuku whispered quietly as he sat beside him, fiddling with his hands.

“Y/N. Call me Y/N.” You smiled and clutched your hands together, having literally no idea what to do. The two seemed respectable enough not to cause trouble. “Y/N. I like your name a lot. Are you from America, cause…” He trailed off, subconsciously rubbing his skin, his eyes on mine. 

“Cause you look different.” Izuku grabbed my hand, showing the difference of skin tone, “but not a bad different. A good different.” The green-haired boy quickly added on. Mirio nodded, smiling at me. Feeling my heart clench, I ran my hand through Izuku’s hair and reached across the table and padded Mirio’s head. “Thank you.”

“A half Pepperoni and half Cheese for Y/N!” Pulling for the two boys, I told them to wait for me as I went up and grabbed the pizza. “Y/N! You had kids! When!” One of my friends, G/BsF/N grabbed my arm and stared at me. I rapidly shook my head and crossed my arms. “Hell no! Listen, I’ll explain later!” Grabbing the table, you headed back to the two boys. 

“I've never eaten pizza!” Mirio excitedly took a bite of his slice, while I quickly slid a plate, handing  Izuku a smaller slice. Watching the two eat, I pulled out my phone, going through different apps. 

“Y/N?” Looking at Mirio, watching him sink lower into his seat. He stared at me with wide eyes, seeming to be panicking. Permeation. I quickly stood up and moved to his side. Grabbing his shoulder. Not exactly sure what to do, I made him look at me. “Y/N, Im...Im sorry-”

“Hey. It’s alright. Just breathe. I'm here ok.” I spoke softly, slowly patting his head. Watching him slowly reappear from his seat, his hands gripped my shirt. Staring at him, whatever I just got myself into, I couldn't back out of.

“Miri... I'm here for you ok. It was an accident. Let’s just go home alright. We can buy clothes and things tomorrow.” I slowly pulled away. Packing up the rest of the pizza before leaving. 

Upon arriving at my apartment, I found a yellow and blue backpack in front of my door. “I'm assuming those belong to you two?” Mirio sheepishly smiled, as I walked with a sleeping Izuku on my back. “Sorry. We thought you'd be home, but you weren't so we went out to find you.”

“How do you know where I work?” 

“The man who brought us here told us.” I unlocked the door, allowing him inside first. Watching Mirio quickly slip off his shoes and dart deeper into the house, excitedly looking around. Walking inside, I kicked the door closed and took off my shoes, lacing Izuku on the couch, and using my coat as a blanket. Placing the box of pizza on the counter.

“Mirio?” Walking down the hall heading to the spare bedroom, Mirio stared out the window into the street. “Y/N, is this me and Izuku’s bedroom?” I slowly nodded, staring at the makeshift bed, until I actually bought a bed. 

“I thought you both could help me buy a bed. Seeing as money isn't an issue.” Mirio nodded excitedly and rushed out of the room, going to explore the apartment. Which had only three bedrooms and two full bathrooms, so they had enough to explore. 

After a few minutes of exploring on Mirio’s part, and me on the computer, looking at certain bed frames, Izuku cuddled up to my side. 

“Y/N! Do you think we can go to school!” Mirio slid into the living room, a red sheet around his neck like a cape. He was playing superheroes with himself, saving invisible citizens and villains, going by Lemillion. “Well, legally you'll have to.” Mirio cheered and disappeared down the hall. 

“Do I have to go to school too?” Izuku tiredly rubbed his eyes and looked up at me. I nodded and watched him smile. “Izuku come play Heroes with me!” Izuku looked fully awake and climbed down, darting towards the sound of Mirio’s voice. 

Listening to their cheering and entrances introducing themselves, sometimes bickering on how to save someone. My eyes focused on the best schools close to the apartment, before settling on Boku No Hero Academia K-12 School. 

“Y/N!”

“Y/N!” Izuku in a white cape, naming himself to be All Might, and Mirio who had changed his red cape to a black one, changing into a villain. Ran into the living room, staring at me. “Play Heroes and Villains with us! You can be the person I save.” 

“But I wanna save Y/N too.”

“But we need a Villain and Villains can't save people.” Izuku and Mirio went back and forth before I stopped them. “You can take turns.” The two nodded, and we went on to play. 

“Give me the secret formula!”

“Ah, save me!” Struggling in your metal restraints (horribly tied yarn) you stared at Villain Lemillion with fearful eyes, as you fell closer to the lava(floor). “That’s fine. This lava can read your mind, so I'll win either way! Mwahaha!” 

“Someone help me! I need a hero please.” Falling closer to the lava until the door opened and there appeared the hero All Might. “I am here to save you Y/N-oops I mean-I am here to save you, citizen!” He chucked a pillow at Villain Lemillion making him fall back. “No, my plans!” Watching him fall into the lava, dying with his tongue out and making a sizzling sound. 

“Are you alright!?” All Might jumped onto the platform, undoing my restraints and making sure I was alright. “Thank you! You saved me! You're my hero.” All Might look embarrassed and smiled.

“Still sizzling over here.” 

We looked over the edge of the platform(my bed) and down at Villain Lemillion, who was somehow still alive. “How are you alive!? I killed you!” 

“You're a hero. Heroes don't kill people!”

“Y/N, do heroes kill people?” Mirio and Izuku looked at me, I thought for a second. “I guess if they really need to but never their main villain.” 

“Main villain?” Mirio climbed onto the bed and stared at me. “Like the person, they go up against. “Like Batman and the Joker. Their main rivals, but you can always have more than one rival.”

“Like! Like! Um...when All Might fought All for One so they're main rivals!”

“Oh! You're so smart!” Izuku's eyes lit up as the two talked. Maybe All Might was a Hero, I haven't heard of. You brushed it off and checked the time, 8:23 PM, and the boys ate around 5 or 6, so dinner was in order. “We’ll eat dinner, then you both can take a bath. We’re going to check out your schools tomorrow.” The two cheered and climbed down, rushing towards the kitchen. Following them, deciding to settle on Pizza, which they basically inhaled and ready for a bath.

While they took a bath together, I chose their PJs, realizing that Mirio had zero sense for what was for bed and what was not. After a few minutes of slashing and hero talk, they both came out squeaky clean, saying that heroes needed to be clean. Tucking them into bed, they both started asking me for a bedtime story.

“Uh, I don't know any.”

“Make one up!”

“N/N, please!” Izuku called me by my nickname, staring at me with Puppy dog eyes. Sighing, I cleared my throat and made myself comfortable. “Once upon a time, there was a boy. A boy not many liked cause he was different, though this boy had a friend. A friend that was really mean to him and put that boy down.”

“If they were friends. Why was his friend mean to him?” Mirio spoke quietly, staring with half-lidded eyes. Izuku slowly nodded, “Shouldn't friends be nice to each other?”

“Until that boy met a hero, and that hero gave that boy his power, after some convincing. So the boy was given the old Heroes power, a dangerous power that would hurt the boy, but the old Hero didn't tell the boy that. So the boy could tell no one. Though this boy didn’t listen and told his friends, who didn't believe him. We soon learn his friend is jealous, he thinks the boy looks down on him. Jealousy is a nasty thing.”

“That doesn't sound like a hero.” Mirio slowly dozed up, while Izuku softly muttered. Slowly patting his head, I nodded.

“I guess it doesn't.”

#bnha x black!reader #bnha x poc!reader #bnha x mother reader #mha x black!reader #mha x poc!reader #mha x mother reader #izuku midoria x reader #mirio togata x reader #izuku midoriya x black reader #mirio togata x black reader #izuku midoriya #mirio togata #black reader #poc reader

[what-the--curtains]

Alliance

Chapter 5 – The Outsiders

(Mando x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: A new lead brings you to a new planet where you search for any trace of the child. Unable to locate him the two of you stop in at a Cantina and when a fight brings the two of you to a hotel new information comes to light, and not just about the childs whereabouts

Notes:Happy new year! Hope your all treating yourself and others with kindness! As always thank you for the likes and shares❤️❤️

TW:swearing, drinking, mentions of drug use/abuse

Tagged: @crazycookiecrumbles

Word count: 6.3K

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nar Shaddaa, Hutt Space, S-12

Exiting the ship you take in your new surroundings. The city was highly technological; filled with high speed trains, sky scrapers, constant noise and the richest and poorest members of the galaxy. It was a true Ecumenopolis and there’s no mistaking that you’re out of your element in it.

“You’re right.” You remark, causing Din to look over to you “I do hate it.”

“Here” he says, handing you a set of knives to go with the blaster he’d previously gifted you. “Bow and arrow would stand out and it’s best we blend in.” You take them, concealing the blades in the sleeves of your cloak.

“Anya, stay close” you whisper, pulling up the hood so as to shield the majority of your face from any passersby. The likelihood of you being recognized was exponentially higher than it had been during previous visits and anonymity was something that needed to be taken seriously here. Anya sniffs at the polluted air, miraculously picking up the child's scent in minutes.

The two of you pursue her with heads down, maneuvering through the crowded sidewalk lining the busy highway where speeders rip up and down the tarmac towards their destinations. She leads you off the main road and down a side street backlit by the various neon hues radiating off the signs attached to the strip of cantinas and clubs. Anya sits down and you and the Mandalorian exchange a look of confusion.

“There's no way the kid’s in a strip club,” he states.

“Ya I figured,” you snap back, the unintended harshness catching you off guard, “the water must have washed off some of the scent”

“What does that mean for our plans?” he queries.

“It means they just got more difficult.” You reach out through the force hoping the child may have caused a ripple in it recently, you can feel he’s one the planet, but there’s nothing to suggest his whereabouts. The situation wasn't being helped by the intermittent noise coming from the groups of intoxicated people moving between bars. You let out a groan of frustration causing a few nearby garbage cans to rattle and fall over subsequently startling a couple who were making out near them.

“C’mon, let’s find a cantina, cool off, maybe someone’s seen the scavengers that ambushed the base.” he offers, not wanting any more attention drawn to the two of you.

“Best idea you’ve ever had Mando.” You say, slapping him on the shoulder as he escorts you into one of the many cantinas lining the streets of the city.

The club was packed full of creatures from all across the galaxy. You’d seen places like this before, having even been inside them on more than one occasion. Sometimes clients wanted to take the gladiators out to show them off as a demonstration of power and wealth. The clubs were usually loud with dark corners, expensive drinks, illicit drugs and company you could pay for.

This place was no exception and honestly you’re surprised the Mandalorian had set foot in the cantina, you thought this would have quantified a den of sin to him and his creed. You push through the crowded dance floor taking a booth in a far corner in an attempt to disappear into the background. This task was helped by the dim lighting, loud music and general drunkenness of the patrons.

“What do you want?” you ask, pulling your hood down, feeling confident no one would recognize you.

“I don’t drink in public,” he explains taking a seat.

“And I don’t drink alone” you state, staring down at him.

“When was the last time you had to drink alone?” he asks. If it wasn't for everything you knew about his personality you would have thought that was some kind of line. Unfortunately, you must have been speaking too loud as your statement had drawn the attention of a nearby Balosar.

“Well I can make sure that doesn’t happen” the Balosar slurs clumsily placing a hand on your hip and moving his groin too close to your ass for your, or Dins liking.

“I wasn’t talking to you leave” you state calmly, and the man releases you walking off as if nothing happened, before the Mandalorian could even formulate his next move.

“Here’s the deal, I'll drink if you tell me about that trick of yours” he offers, watching the Balosar disappear back into the crowd.

“Deal” you say, turning to the bar. You make your way over through the mass of what we’re likely criminals or the ultra-rich, though oftentimes they fall hand in hand. This club didn’t smell like the lowbrow places you’d been to early on in your career, no it had that perfumed soaked scent of a millionaires mansion trying to masquerade the smell of fraud and blood that built it.

“Hey can I get two retsas, one with a long straw” you shout over the synthetic music blaring throughout the club to the Togruta bartender. You rest your elbows on the counter leaning forward, biting gently on your thumb as you turn your head, gazing over the crowd to where the Mandalorian was sat, absentmindedly stroking Anya’s head.

“Here ya are love” the bartender says, you turn back around to face her smiling as you hand her the credits and take the drinks back to the table.

“What’s this?” Din asks, picking up the straw slightly.

“Straw.” You say as if it’s obvious, taking a sip of your own beverage as you pull back into the booth “you can stick it up under your helmet. Then no one has to see your face”

“So how do you do that.” He asks referring to your ability to seemingly send people away.

“Do what?” you ask innocently, causing him to push the drink away,

“Fine.” you say, and he pulls it back towards him “the truth is I don’t really know how it works. Just does”

“Like magic” he states, maneuvering the straw under the helmet.

“Not a witch” you return, watching some of the liquid drain from his glass.

“The kid can heal can you?”

“No, I never learnt, I think only certain Jedis can. My specialities lie elsewhere.”

“Like the mind tricks.”

“Amongst other things but mind tricks are the simplest. Heads are easily influenced afterall.”

“Jedis'' he laughs audibly. It was the first time you’d heard him do so and you were taken aback by how pleasant it was. Sometimes it was easy to forget a human being was underneath all the metal.

“Why are you laughing? They exist.” you say smiling, still caught up in his laugh.

“I know I’ve met three now. I just think it’s funny that the kid is more qualified than you” He jokes. Your mouth opens, somehow feeling both admired and insulted by the man sat across from you.

“Say aren’t you a Mandalorian” a passerby interrupts

“No he’s not.” You say, sending him on his way with a flick of your wrist.

“You have to teach me how to do that.”

“You just have to put your mind between a state of complete serenity and complete control. Once you tap in, it’s easy enough to use, but you have to keep at it, it’s a skill and it's remarkably easy to lose.” You say gesturing for him to continue drinking. “Well that and a genetic predisposition for force-sensitivity.”

“Oh seems very easy,” he says.

“Well if it’s easy enough for a child to do.” You return.

“Did you use it to get the upper hand on me when we first met?”

“Maybe.” you respond finishing the last of your drink, only just noticing how lightheaded you were. It has been a while since you’d had a proper drink, but even so being this much of a lightweight wasn’t something you wanted the Mandalorian to know about.

“But you don’t use it all the time?” he prompts.

“No, not always safe. That why I was kept on Vryssa. Guess the empire, or ex-empire or whatever the hell they’re calling themselves these days, were hunting down any remaining Jedi” you explain, lightly tapping your fingernails along the empty glass.

“Can you choke people?” he asks, causing you your eyebrows to raise involuntarily.

“Only if they buy me dinner first,” you quip, watching as he finishes the last of his drink evidently not bothered by what you had just said “ but yes, I try not too unless absolutely necessary.”

“The kid tried it on Cara once.” he says laughing for the second time that evening.

“Fuck,” you snort, partially coughing up your drink “what’d she do?”

“She was beating me in an arm wrestling match.” he chuckles, more so at the sound you had just emitted than anything else.

“So you also need a kid to help you win an arm wrestling match?” you tease.

“Don’t start with me, I’d snap your arm like a twig if we went at it.” Did he know how what he was saying sounded? If so, what was he hoping to achieve by it? He’s about to ask another question when you put a finger up “More drinks” you say scooting out of the seat and making your way back over to the bar.

“Back so soon?” the bartender asks

“Drinking’s a specialty of mine” you say with a smile “Same as before please”

“Of course” she wipes her hands on a towel before heading back to make the order. You rock back and forth on your heels until she returns, but not with the drinks.

“If you’re looking for something stronger” she offers, pulling out a packet of what you recognize as spice. You’d done your fair share of it in the early days of the arenas. Trainers used it to control their more unruly fighters, and you found yourself falling under that classification more often than not. It had also come in handy when you had to deal with some of the less pleasing clients who were paying for your services. After you made it to the big times you were weaned off it by San who couldn’t have you overdosing and losing him money. Your hand reaches out for it but you stop yourself, knowing if you took it the Mandalorian would find out and you’d lose his trust. Something which you hadn’t realized mattered so much to you.

“I’m good for now, thanks though” she nods putting it back and returning with your drinks “If you change your mind, names Ynre come find me” you smile grabbing the drinks and moving back through the crowd. Sitting down you decide it's your turn to ask a question.

“How did you know I was a tracker?” you slide the drink towards him and he catches it with ease.

“ A bartender told me you’d helped him find his daughter, I thought you were isolated from the rest of the world.”

“Living has its cost even if you're off the grid” you begin “we needed credits as well, we offered our services to find those who had been taken, most of the time, all memory would be removed before they returned to the real world.”

“Why did you let him remember.”

“Somethings need to remembered, so they don’t happen again” you say, absentmindedly moving your index finger around the rim of the glass

“What’s it like.” He asks “Being one with the galaxy.”

“Pretty uneventful until you showed up in my life.” you say pointing a finger at him as you take another swig.

“Well I can’t imagine anything much happening on Vryssa. Is there anything on that planet except for mud and trees.”

“Some people like the mud and trees, it’s the poverty that stops most people from staying long. Mining isn’t the industry it once was.”

“So that’s what the planet is known for fuel?”

“That and the most hangings during the war, tall trees make for excellent gallows.” Having finished another round of drinks you go to stand up again, hoping when you went back you wouldn’t be offered the spice again. You weren’t sure you’d be able to deny it a second time.

“I’ll get the next ones'' he says standing up. You sit back down, breathing out a sigh of relief as you watch him walk over to the bar. As he reaches the counter you watch him order placing his hand on the bar turning to talk to a Twi’lek, Arkanian and human who had appeared around him. You take note of the body language, it’s plain to see what their intentions were.

Whether it was for the armour or something else you weren’t sure, but there was no denying the Mandalorian had something about him that made him undeniably attractive, even if his face was hidden. He allows a few of them to trace their hands over his armor, the helmet disabling you from gauging what he was thinking. As you watch the scene unfold you smile to yourself finding it somewhat amusing, but at the same time you feel a knot form in your stomach. You brush it off as you see him returning back to your table.

“Armour kinks really a thing then?” you ask nodding your head to the women who were still staring at him from the bar, as he hands you a drink.

“You have no idea,” he says,sitting back down. So he was experienced, you hadn’t been sure what his creed had said about sex. Your mind drifts back to the cave, causing you to wonder what else was going on under that armour. It was hard to say you wouldn’t if the opportunity presented itself, not that it ever would, most days you were unsure if he was even indifferent towards you and vice versa.

“Any more questions” you ask, freeing yourself from your thoughts, which you chalked up to the alcohol, not enough sleep and too much time alone.

“Are you sleeping?” you're taken aback by this question, why had he asked that. Noticing your concern he continues “When you fall asleep in front of me it’s hard not to notice the night terrors. You ask for me in your sleep. Do you know that? ” You did, but the nightmares were none of his business.

“Well if it’s your name I’m saying it really must be a nightmare, either way I couldn't tell you about them if I wanted to” you lie, hoping your smile would snuff out any suspicions.

“Are they about the fighting rings?” he asks, a sense of guilt hanging in the air.

“No, those stopped a few weeks in” You mumure, refusing to make eye contact with the helmet. He’s about to press for more information when a group of Zabrak walk in. You hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten and trouble usually starts after 1am.

“We should leave, gangsters and you’re too drunk to be of any use.”

“Shut up” you say, downing the last of your drink and cocking your head as if you had just proven some kind of point before pulling your hood back up. As you stand your foot gets caught in your cloak and you stumble. With one strong arm he stops you yet again from plummeting forward, catching your waist just in time.

“I’m not drunk, I just tripped!” you exclaim, trying and failing at hiding a smile as you stare up at him. If it wasn’t for the helmet you’d have seen the grin that had been plastered on Dins face for most of the evening as well. The two of you are almost out the door when you feel someone pull your hood down. The culprit, a tall, handsome man, has moved in front of you, blocking your exit.

“The huntress, you got out,” he exclaims moving towards you causing you to take a step back.

“You have the wrong person” you lie, trying to move past him but he steps in front of you again.

“I wouldn’t forget you, not after what we did,” he looks from you up to the Mandalorian “She’s worth every penny you spent Mando, the best,”

“She says she doesn’t know you. Now move.” Din interjects, succinctly cutting him off. You try again to move towards the door but once again the man steps in front of you.

“C’mon for old times’ sake.” He goes to pull you into him. Tiring of the interaction you drop down one of the knives with an aim of shanking him. Before you can, you hear the distinct sound of metal against skin as Dins fist connects with the man's face, knocking him out.

“Let’s go” he says, pulling your hood back up and ushering you quickly out the door, having now gained the attention of the group at the bar.

“Someone’s following us” you whisper, as Anya begins to emit a low growl. “bounty hunters. Five of them, I can take two if you get the rest.” Without looking at each other the two of you turn, in sync, to face your stalkers.

“Quite a bounty on you two.” One shouts, spitting out chew onto the street, “between the underground, the empire and the gladiators you’re the galaxy’s most wanted duo.”

“Walk away. While, you still can.” the modulated voice says as Din moves his cloak back, revealing the blaster at his side.

“Five versus a drunk Mandalorian and a girl. I like our odds. You don’t mind sharing do you Mando, we like to try the merchandise before we” The lead Zabrak drops to the ground before he can finish his sentence. One of your knives embedded deep in his throat you maintain eye contact with the other four Zabrak as their leader sputters out the last of his breaths. They draw their weapons and an array of blaster shots sound throughout the alleyway until only two of you remain standing,

“You okay?” The Mandalorian asks, giving you a once over.

“Ya, but you’re not.” You say gesturing to the knife currently lodged deep in his side. He reaches up to pull it out.

“Don’t,” you exclaim, grabbing his hand in yours, causing him to look down at you. You quickly release it, worried you may have just crossed a personal boundary. “ It needs to be removed carefully, it’s close to a vein. If you take it out you could bleed to death before we can patch it up.” you explain quickly. “C’mon there’s got to be a place around here somewhere.” The good news was there was a hotel in sight as you turned the corner, but the bad news was that it was upscale. Security would be increased and the knife currently embedded in the Mandalorian would stick out like a sore thumb.

Noting Din’s slowing pace, and aware of the knife's close proximity to a vein and how more movement could dislodge it, you opt to head into the hotel. You enter through the high reaching, stained glass doors depicting what appeared to be a ball of sorts. You sit the Mandalorian down in an armchair near one of the romanesque pillars lining the foyer, hoping to obscure him from the front desk.

Leaving Anya with him you make your way towards the desk, fortunately, due to the late hour late the lobby was essentially vacated. You look up, making eye contact with the concierge as you do, you pull down your hood hoping it would make you appear less threatening. You realize your error when you see a look of panic plastered on his face, likely caused by the flecks of blood marking your hands, neck and face. You see his hand reach for the phone. You make it to him as he's dialing, placing a finger on the hook switch ending the call before it starts.

“Please, we were ambushed on our way back from town, I’m here on a trip for my father. He's an ambassador, the Mandalorian is my bodyguard. We need a room, we can pay any price.” You plead apparently convincingly enough for him to place the phone back down on its receiver as he begins the process of checking you in.

“Seperate rooms I assume.” He says inputting the information

“No ones fine” you say. Noticing the look of judgment coming from the concierge, you continue “He doesn't sleep.”

“Don’t worry, everything here is kept very secret even from your father.”

“No... we… we’re not..” you decide to quit while you're ahead. He ends up offering you a cheaper rate for the room, you being an ambassador's relative and all.

“Thank you” you say sincerely as he hands you the key.

“How’d you manage that?” Din asks upon your arrival

“What can I say I’m an impressive negotiator” Helping him slowly to the elevator, looking back to the concierge offering him a look of thanks once again.

“You sure are.” he says as the elevator doors close, reopening again on the 21st floor.

“Not bad,” you murmur, taking in the room as you sit him down on the king size bed. “I’m going to get some medical supplies, don’t take that knife out until I’m back, and try not to die.” you say, tossing him one of two room cards before exiting the room, descending in the elevator to the main floor and exiting back into the street with Anya at your side.

The two of you dart through the alleys the street lamps illuminate the puddles forming on the pavement beneath your feet. You turn into the first pharmacy with an open sign and begin gathering the necessary supplies from its shelves. One of the benefits of being on a planet run by crime lords was the availability of cheap, illegal and oftentimes more efficient medicines. You’re reaching for a bottle of Shesharile Vodka to use as an antiseptic when you feel something watching you. You turn just in time to see a black cloak disappear into the adjacent aisle.

You follow it over to the next aisle but it moves just out of your view. You carry on into the next aisle, then the next, following the shadow frantically until you reach the cashier who gives you a side eye suggesting to you that there was definitely no one else in the store. You pay for the supplies and make your way back out into the rain which hits against your hood lightly. The soft padding helped to drown out the sense of foreboding that had been with you since you left the hotel. A nearby rib cat runs into a garbage can, making you jump. Startled, you look behind you, but there’s no one there. You shake your head, what was going on with you. It must just be the drink, or the lack of sleep.

You continue to tell yourself it’s just your imagination even when you hear your name whispered into your ear as you re-enter the hotel. Making a bee-line for the elevator you manically press the close door button, the elevator opens once you reach your floor and you swipe the key card. You rip the door open at the sound of the beep, briskly closing it behind you, chest heaving. Your panic worsens when you look to the bed and notice the Mandalorian was not where you had left him. Your eyes scan the room uncontrollably until you hear a faint buzzing coming from the bathroom. You swing the door open and look down to the floor where you see Din sitting. The knife lays next to him as he works at cauterizing his abdomen's broken skin back together. You bend over slapping his hand hard enough for it to retreat away from the wound.

“I said to leave the knife in.” You chastise stepping over him and squatting down to get a better angle of the gash.

“It’s fine, I've done this a hundred times,” he says nonchalantly, once again picking up the pen. After a few minutes of playing tug-of-war you manage to wrangle the cauterizer out of his hand taking it with you as you make your way back to supplies you’d bought. You pull the vodka and return to his side pulling the cork out with your teeth before applying a small amount of it to a towel.

“This might sting” you say as you wipe it against the lesion with gentle strokes. As you do he remains stoic, there’s not even a flinch. A notable sign of someone who was used to being in pain.

“I” he says, but you cut him off, preventing him from making a case for cauterization.

“Shut it, it could get infected, we have no idea where that knife has been. Plus stitches heal better than burns.” You state matter-of-factly, fetching the needle and thread from the supply bag.

Mandos POV

He can’t stop looking at your face as you stitch him back up, you were focused, but there was no sign of stress. You were calm, relaxed as if it was a second nature to you, something that was to be done absentmindedly. You must have done this before, maybe in the early days of fighting. Low brow gladiatorial battles were often messy and crude, you must have had your fair share of wounds when you were just starting off. His mind wanders to the comment you made about burnt wounds healing poorly. Had you seen the many that covered his body that night in the cave? Did you think he was hideous? Why did he care so much, seemingly all of a sudden?

“There. All done” you say, biting the string and applying some bacta to the now closed skin. As you stand up he notices a dark stain glistening through the back of your shirt.

“Wait,” he says quickly, trying to get your attention.

“What?” you ask, turning to face him still wiping his blood off your hands. He’s shocked you hadn’t noticed, based on the amount of blood the laceration was deep.

“You’re bleeding” he says, watching as you casually turn to look at your back.

“Come here” he says, taking another step towards you, concerned you don’t seem bothered by the news that you were bleeding profusely.

“I’m fine, it’s just a reopened old wound. I’ve had worse in the arena.” You say. Every time you brought up the arena, a twinge of guilt came over him. He wouldn’t let any harm come to you again, not while you were with him.

“Stop being stubborn.” He says. He’s about to grab you and force you down, but he rethinks his approach. Instead he places a leathered hand gently on your shoulder, turning you to face him.

“Let me help. Please.” This does the trick and he looks away as you remove your shirt which was now soaked through with blood. As you make your way over to the bed he sees the large open wound going up your back, it was red, swollen and bleeding. He puts some towels down on the bed and you lay down on your stomach. Upon closer inspection he notices the markings going up your spine. They were still prominent even amongst the healed over scars. His hand hover over the ancient scripture which matched up with those on your arms and face.

“Is it bad?” you ask, pulling him out of his trance and stopping him from tracing his fingers over your skin.

“Yes, it’s reopened a few times by the looks of it, did this ever heal?”

“Don’t know can’t reach back there” you mutter.

“It’s infected, it needs to be cleaned, and closed, it’s not deep but it’s too wide for stitches so it’ll have to be cauterized.”

“Just leave it. It’ll heal” you say pushing yourself up onto your elbows. He places a firm hand on your shoulder stopping you from fully extending upwards.

“Or it won’t and you’ll die and I’ll be back to square one.” He says, hoping it's enough to convince you to let him help you. He sighs a breath of relief when you lower yourself back down onto the towels. He positions himself over you, pouring some of the opened vodka into the lesion to cleanse it, noticing your back arch slightly as it does. He takes off one of his gloves, offering it to you.

“Bite down on this”

“This some kind of thing for you.” you ask, taking it from him.

“Or don’t cauterizing isn’t a walk in the park.” he says watching as you reluctantly place it in your mouth before turning your head back to face out the window overlooking the city below. Apparently it was a thing for him, but he shakes his head of any kind of desire in order to focus on the task at hand.

“This will hurt.”

Your POV

You feel the flame hit your skin, but you refuse to flinch, not wanting to appear weak in front of the Mandalorian. You remain still as he cauterizes your skin back together as the smell of burnt flesh fills the air around you. You find yourself wondering how high his tolerance for pain was, if he could essentially melt his skin back together without so much as a twinge. You found yourself exceedingly grateful for the leather which was likely stopping any noises being emitting unwillingly. He closes it up and you feel his hand go to your neck.

“I’m not dead” you say unmoving, your body was still in shock.

“You hadn’t moved in a while, I just wanted to make sure.” He says reaching for the salve,

“Leave it we may need it later.” You protest, but he ignores you, putting it over the wound, evidently not in the mood to argue with you. After a while you stand up and make your way to the mirror to check out his handiwork, not too shabby you think.

“Well now you’re not going to bleed out, you should get some rest” you say, throwing him his glove back before picking up your shirt and rinsing it out in the sink. You lay it out to dry over the radiator in the bathroom.

“You rest i'll take first watch” he says

“Seriously” you say emerging from the doorway “you lost a lot of blood.”

“I won’t be able to rest until the kid’s found.”

“No use to it if you're half asleep, off your game and get shot down one parsec in.” you retort. With that he accepts defeat and gets on top of the bed spreading out his legs and placing his hands behind his head. Careful not to disrupt Anya who was curled up on the bed's corner. You pour yourself a glass of the leftover vodka, swirling it around as you gaze out the window of the 21st floor. The city lights illuminate the sky as if it was daytime, you couldn’t understand why anyone would choose to live in such a place.

You gaze over to the Mandalorian, was he really asleep? He looked like he was, you’d never seen him splayed out like this before. Must be the only comfortable way of sleeping in all that clunky armour. You still couldn't wrap your head around how he kept it on all the time. Staring back out the window you imagine what life will be like once you’ve gotten the child back and you're free to lead a calmer life. After a few hours you hear the rustle of bed sheets. Turning your head you watch as the Mandalorian maneuvers off the bed with ease.

“Batteries recharged?” you joke, finishing the last of the vodka.

“I'm not an android” he replies, not having caught that it had been a joke. You make your way to the bed and get under the covers which were still warm from where he had been sitting a few moments ago. You rest your head back onto the pillows and shift to your side pulling the covers over your head to block out the lights of the city.

“What are you doing?” he ask

“I’m trying to get it dark enough to sleep.”

“I can close the curtains”

“And you'd just sit in a chair in the dark like some kind of weirdo?” he doesn’t respond after that and you doze off before another conversation can be started.

You wake up with the sun in your eyes, you must have de-cocooned yourself sometime during the night. Shit, you’d slept through the night. Not something you’d usually be upset at but you felt guilty for making Din take the majority of the watch.

“You should have woken me up, I would have taken another watch” you say sitting up in the bed and stretching your arms up to the sky, the tightness of the closed wound pulling slightly as you do.

“It seemed like a restful sleep. I figured you needed it.” You hop out of the bed and go to the bathroom pulling your blood stained shirt back on, muttering out a gross. The heat from the radiator had crusted the residue into the fabric.

“I’m gonna go get some towels from the front desk do you need anything” you ask scratching Anya’s ears and grabbing a room key. He shakes his helmet no.

You make your way to the desk, taking note of the assortment of well-dressed creatures moving throughout the lobby in the light of day. They stare as you pass through the lobby either disgusted by your bloodied appearance or suspicious of your intent.

“Must be a bounty hunter. I wonder if she has any idea what’s being auctioned off tonight. Should I ask” You overhear a woman ask as you pass by

“Good morning” a new concierge says.

“Morning, can I get some towels.” You ask, nonchalantly rifling through one of the many pamphlets littering the desk.

“Of course anything else madam?”

“ No, that's all thanks” you say, taking the towels. “actually yes this auction what’s that all about.”

“Oh yes the collector, he's having one tonight. Its location has been kept top secret. It changes each year to add to the excitement.” they explain.

“How would one go about getting an invite?” you implore, placing the towels back down on the counter.

“They usually find you. If you're rich, important or dangerous enough that is.” They say offering you a smile.

“Thanks” you say, formulating a plan the second you start your walk back to the elevator.

“I’m, so sorry” you say bumping into a woman who had been flashing around an invite when you had first entered the lobby. Slipping your hand into her shawl you grab the thin piece of paper pocketing it as she exclaims something along the line of how they're just letting anyone in these days.

As you re-enter the room you hear the shower turning off.

“You shower in that thing” you ask when the door opens.

“Not the towel.” He says “where are the clean ones?” he asks, tossing the bloodied fabric onto the floor.

“Got something better. A lead” you say throwing the invite on the table.

“We won’t get past the door, looking like this” he says. You hold up a finger and dial the front desk putting on the voice of the woman in the lobby.

“Hi it’s Mal Ytha” you say looking at the card, “the dress for tonight should be delivered to room 2108, yes its changed, thank you” you say hanging up the phone.

“How do you know it’ll fit?” he asks.

“She looked about my size.”

“If you’re planning on going in alone to get the kid, think again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, invites got a plus one which means you get to be my bodyguard.” This gets a laugh.

“What” you say, his laugh still taking you by surprise, its sound not quite matching up with the gruff Mandalorian you knew.

“ It’s just a funny thought, you needing a bodyguard.” He says as you open the knock at the door.

“Thank you”, you say, taking the towels and garment that had just been delivered by a member of the hotel staff.

“Shine up your armour princess, the event starts in an hour and its inner city, so we should probably drop our stuff back off at the ship before we head in ” He nods in agreement.

You get back to the ship and drop Anya off with the rest of your stuff, not willing to risk bringing her into another auction room. You change in the cockpit, the bathroom was too small and you didn’t want to devalue the constitution of the dress, afraid it may cause you to stand out. If the rich could spot anything it was someone masquerading as one of them. Fortunately your ability to guess proportions were right and the dress fit almost perfectly. Dins rearranging the armoury as you lower yourself down his helmet doing a double take when you enter into his line of sight.

“Don’t worry I can still run and fight in this thing if needed.” you say, assuming that’s why he had been staring for so long. Little did you know he was staring because he’d never seen something so beautiful in the entire galaxy. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“I’m not worried.” He says clearing his throat, trying to get a hold of himself.

“Good”, you say slipping the knives into the pants concealed beneath your dress.

“Shall we” you say, gesturing to the door in front of you.

#mando x y/n #mando x you #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #star wars #alliance #chapter 5 #two idiots in love #slow burn #din dijarin x reader #din dijarin #din djarin #din dijarin x you

[hazel-writes]

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female OC

Summary: Aristeia, an ambitious and self-reliant journalist on Tatooine, crosses paths with a Mandalorian after a harrowing encounter with Imperial remnants.

Word Count: 5,000

Warnings: canon-typical violence, death

A/N: Oh my gosh, I finally did it. After months of reading some absolutely incredible Mando fanfics, I took the plunge and started writing my own. I'm so excited to share this with all of you!

This fic starts during episode 1x5 and will loosely follow the show's timeline (I will be taking many creative liberties). The first chapter is from Aristeia's point of view, but I'll be going back and forth between her POV and Din's afterwards. I jump straight into the action in this fic, so if things seem a little crazy at first, don't worry, all will be explained soon :)

This is my first time writing for our favorite space cowboy, so any and all feedback is welcomed! If you want to keep updated on this fic between updates, check my bio for other places you can find me. Also, a Spotify playlist to accompany this fic is coming soon!

Without further ado, please enjoy this chaotic mess of a chapter! ♥︎

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Aristeia sighed as she weaved her way through the busy streets of Mos Eisley, Tatooine. It was almost sunset and most people were heading home after long days at work. A layer of dust rose around the feet of those attending to last-minute errands. She watched as a woman bought a large red fruit from one of the street-side vendors. A soot-covered teenaged boy stood by the neighboring building, stocking up on mechanical supplies. Near his feet, two sunburnt children fought over a small toy. The scene was normal to her: ever since settling on Tatooine years ago, Aristeia had slowly grown accustomed to the slow and gritty flow of the planet.

As she continued walking, she kept her head down, eyes always focused a few steps ahead of her feet. However, whenever someone neared, she would look up briefly to offer them a small smile. Most of the time they ignored her, scowled, or rolled their eyes, but every now and then, someone would return her gesture. Those moments made the effort worth it.

Unlike the people who meandered around her, Aristeia was just starting her work for the day. She kicked up clouds of dirt as she made her way to the recently-abandoned mechanic’s shop. She used to frequent it back when she had a speeder, but after the owners passed away, it had unfortunately turned into a popular site of criminal activity. A few days back, she had intercepted a transmission that mentioned a meeting at the location, and as a journalist, she had to be there to see what was going on. Armed with a small notebook and stylus, she was prepared to document the whole thing.

Turning the corner of a dusty alley, which was littered with miscellaneous tools and sheets of scrap metal, the old mechanic’s place finally came into view. Its exterior architecture was similar to that of the rest of Tatooine, however its dark and doorless entrance led to an underground network of small rooms. With every step Aristeia took towards the building, her anxiety grew. Unlike her other investigative stakeouts, she was going into the mechanic’s blind. The transmission didn’t reveal a whole lot about the nature of the meeting, which she knew meant it was of special importance. These were the kind of meetings that could provide her with a groundbreaking story. They were also the kind of meetings where someone could get hurt.

Aristeia had never been good at fighting – physically, at least – but she did give herself credit for not having died so far, especially in her line of work. Put a blaster in her hand and she’d probably shoot her own foot off. However, put a pen in her hand, and she was a force to be reckoned with.

Aristeia had been writing ever since she was young. It started with little stories: she would go into a crowd of people, find a quiet place to sit, and observe each person that passed by. She would notice what they were wearing, how they carried themselves, who they were with, where they were going, and then she would make up the ‘why’: Why were they dressed like that? Why did they walk like that? Why were they with this person or that person? Her imagination would stitch together the missing pieces of their backstories, creating life narratives of people she had never even met. She did the same thing now from time to time. In fact, people watching was imperative to her role as a journalist.

As Aristeia grew older, she and a few friends decided to start a local newsletter that got sent out to residents of Mos Eisley every month. It was by no means a ‘professional’ establishment. The writers were all residents, many of them barely adults, who wanted to keep their friends and family informed about any activity that could threaten the freedom they had fought so hard to gain after the fall of the Empire.

A group of giggling children ran around the corner, pulling Aristeia out of her thoughts. She watched as they kicked around a near-deflated ball with bare, dust-covered feet. Sighing, she turned back around to peer down the steps of the abandoned mechanic’s. It was just beginning to get dark and the suns had nearly reached the edge of the horizon, casting eerie shadows on the stairwell walls. She looked for any sign of movement in the space below and when nothing seemed to be stirring, she made her way down the packed-dirt stairs and entered into the main room.

The area was small with not very many places to hide, immediately making her anxious. She had never been a fan of tiny spaces. But this was too important of a mission for her to give up now. She looked to her left and spotted a large plant, which obviously hadn’t seen any light or water for quite some time. However, its pot and leaves could be big enough to hide her if she was able to fit behind it. It’s not like she had very many options to choose from.

A noise from above forced her into action. She darted behind the plant as fast as she could, curling herself up against the corner of the wall. The sounds of heavy footfalls met her ears. There were at least five people making their way into the room she was in. From between the leaves of the plant, she could make out the forms of two stormtroopers and a tall, lanky man in a gray uniform. Imperials.

After the fall of the Empire, most people on Tatooine had celebrated immensely. They believed they had finally achieved freedom. It was hard for Aristeia to share their excitement, knowing how many lives had been lost on both sides. She also had always been a realist, never letting herself get too comfortable when everything seemed to be coming up roses. She had been tracking the movements of rogue troopers around the city for a while, trying to figure out who they took orders from and where they were located. In recent weeks, she had intercepted a few transmissions referencing what the Imps called ‘the asset’. Just one day before, she had caught word of a meeting scheduled to take place in the room where she was now hiding. She knew she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get more intel. Once she had enough information, she planned on writing a massive expose, informing all of Mos Eisley to her discoveries.

A raspy voice broke her train of thought: “Have you found the asset?” Peering around the plant’s leaves, she saw that it was the man in gray who had spoken.

“No, not yet,” a Klatoonian replied gruffly. “We tracked the ship to this city. As far as we know, the Mandalorian still has it.”

A Mandalorian… Aristeia shuddered. There wasn’t much in the galaxy that she was terrified of anymore. Sure, she often felt scared. In fact, she was scared most of the time; it’s part of what kept her alive for so long. But there was very little that truly terrified her. Mandalorians were one of those things.

She shook her head, forcing herself out of her spiraling panic. Focus on the facts, she thought – it was a phrase she repeated often when overwhelmed with her work. Focus on the Facts. The Imperial man’s mention of the Mandalorian was new info to her. All she knew from previous transmissions was that the Imps needed the asset for some sort of experiment. She didn’t understand it too much – she was never very good at science.

Aristeia reached into her bag, pulling out her notebook and stylus so she could document her new discovery. As quietly as she could, she opened the front cover of the journal, flipping to the next blank page.

As she did so, her finger caught on one of the pages, slicing a thin cut across the pad of her pointer finger. Kriff, she whispered, accidentally dropping her stylus as she moved to nurse her injured finger. She realized her fatal mistake too late.

“What do we have here?” she heard a voice drawl from above her. The Klatooinian, who had taken a few steps toward Aristeia, peered around the edge of the plant before looking back at the Rodian. “Is this one yours?”

Aristeia scowled at the suggestion. “No, I most certainly am not.”

The two men chuckled, infuriating her even more. “Why don’t you come out so we can take a better look at you?” the Rodian suggested with a devilish smirk.

“Yeah, cause that sounds like it would end well for me…” she mumbled, trying to think of a way to escape the predicament she had gotten herself into.

The uniformed man and his two stormtroopers stayed quiet throughout the ordeal, seemingly bored by the other mens’ interaction.

“She must be terminated. She has heard too much,” the man in gray finally chimed in.

At this, Aristeia started to panic. She was in deep bantha munk this time. Sure, she had been in tricky positions before – it was kind of a requirement of living on Tatooine – but this was bad.

“I didn’t hear anything, I swear! I was just…” She stood up slowly and looked around the room, trying to find an alibi. “...admiring the plants?”

She mentally facepalmed at her attempt of a lie, something she was never very good at. It helped her in a journalistic sense, as she always did her best to remain objective in her articles. She recognised the power that came with telling the truth, especially now, in the wake of an empire founded largely on lies. However, in this case, she could’ve used a good fib. Admiring the plants, really? she scolded herself. After a moment of silence, the uniformed man directed a curt nod at the stormtroopers, who then advanced on her quickly.

Springing into action, she attempted to kick the chestplate of the trooper closest to her, but missed, only managing to clip his knee. Nonetheless, it threw him off-balance, sending him stumbling into his fellow trooper. She took the brief opening to run as fast as she could towards the stairs that led back up to the main street. She got halfway up, mere feet away from freedom, before a large hand yanked her back down the steps harshly. She fell backwards, scraping her elbows and knees on the hard dirt before hitting her head on the floor, hard.

She couldn’t see anything but blurry spots of white and orange as strong and grimy hands pulled her across the floor, back to the troopers. The one she kicked earlier returned the favor, sending sparks of pain through her abdomen. Footsteps approached and a heavy boot landed between her shoulder blades, forcing her against the floor. Another second passed before she heard the charging up of a blaster from above her head.

Aristeia closed her eyes, cheek pressed to the dirt, accepting her fate. She forced warm memories into her mind, not wanting her last thoughts to be of the man whose heavy boot currently pinned her to the ground. Her mind danced from memory to memory, finding it hard to focus on any one image for too long: a familiar, tender hand ran its fingers along the curves of her face; trees towered over her like arrows aimed for the stars; a single candle cast a warm glow over pieces of parchment; a sweet smile, one she probably would never see again, beamed through the darkness...

A burst of blaster fire sounded from above her head. As if shooting her once wasn’t enough, she thought, before realizing that it wasn’t possible for her to make sarcastic quips if she was dead. She opened one eye, then the other, only to stare right into the lifeless face of the man in the gray uniform. It was a sight she was sure would stay with her forever.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

She finally looked up, not recognising the deep modulated voice that sounded from above her.

A shining wall of silver met her eyes, his blaster pointed at the Klatoonian. A Mandalorian, she thought. Waves of terror flooded Aristeia’s body. It was almost as if the universe had plucked him straight out of one of her nightmares and dumped him deliberately at her feet. She was familiar with the Mandalorians, more than most, but seeing one after so many years still managed to send shivers down her spine.

Focus on the facts. Focus on the facts. she repeated to herself.

Something about the way the armored man carried himself made her realize that this wasn’t just any Mandalorian: this was the Mandalorian, the one her attackers had been discussing moments earlier.

His presence seemed to fill the whole room. She found her eyes involuntarily moving up his figure, taking in the pure power that emanated from his armored form. Her gaze landed on his face, or where his face should’ve been. Instead, all she could see was her own terrified reflection in his dark, deadly visor.

When the Klatoonian didn’t make any effort to move, the shiny man looked down and gave her a barely perceptible nod to the side. She knew exactly what he was telling her to do.

As fast as she could, she rolled to her right, hearing blaster shots fire above her as she did so. She scrambled back towards the plant she was hiding behind earlier and watched as the armored man fought the others. While the Mandalorian was distracted with the Rodian, the Klatoonian aimed his blaster towards his silver chestplate. Aristeia considered shouting to the metal-clad man in warning, but didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself. To her horror, she watched as the Klatoonian pulled the trigger.

The Mandalorian, however, sensed what was coming and ducked. The blaster beam rebounded off of a large metal sheet that stood propped up against the wall behind him and hit the Klatoonian square in the chest. He fell to the floor, lifeless. To Aristeia’s surprise, she heard the Mandalorian curse, seemingly frustrated by the death of his attacker. The stormtroopers took his moment of annoyed distraction as a sign to run, bolting back up the stairs before the Mandalorian could stop them.

Aristeia’s senses slowly started to come back to her, as did the pain in her stomach, hands and knees. Unsure of the Mandalorian’s intentions, she scrambled on the packed dirt, trying to find the notebook she had brought with her. She finally found it tucked between the wall and the nearby plant pot.

She turned to see the armored man, having knocked the Rodian unconscious, finally focus his attention on her. She grabbed the stylus that she always kept clipped to the side of her notebook, the one that had caused all this trouble to begin with, and held it out in front of her as threateningly as possible.

The Mandalorian casually put a hand on his hip and popped one of his legs out slightly. His helmet tilted to the side incredulously. If she wasn’t so scared, she might have laughed at his almost-lazy posture.

“Hey, they say the pen is mightier than the sword, right?” Aristeia shrugged nervously, still directing the stylus towards the silver mass in front of her.

He ignored her comment and dipped his helmet towards the bodies on the floor. “What were you doing with them?”

She debated whether or not to tell him. His low, warning tone made it seem like she didn’t have much of a choice. So far, he hadn’t made any move to hurt her, despite the fact that he had every opportunity to. Even now he kept his distance, almost like he was trying not to startle her any further. That, or the stylus really had scared him.

“I’m a journalist,” Aristeia responded. “I was trying to get some information for my next story when they found me.”

She shifted on her feet when he didn’t respond right away.

“Story?” he finally repeated, almost like he was skeptical of the word.

“Yeah.”

She knew it must sound silly. Her stories, and journalism as a whole, probably weren’t on this man’s radar. A lot of people thought that her profession was impractical and meddling, but obviously the work she did was important enough to gain the attention of the Imps.

Whatever the Mandalorian was thinking prompted him to mumble something, turn on his heel, and start back up the stairs. Aristeia was left speechless, her hair settling back into place after being disheveled by the sudden billowing of the Mandalorian’s cape.

She looked around the room at the bodies littering the floor, remembering briefly that the troopers had escaped. That alone almost ensured her certain death. They had seen her face – it was only a matter of time before they would find her. Already regretting her decision, she heard herself calling out to the Mandalorian who had reached the top of the stairs: “Wait!”

He stopped his movement, pausing briefly before slowly turning to face Aristeia, who now stood at the bottom of the stairs. She looked up at his figure, which from her angle looked more commanding than ever, his silver armor backlit by the setting suns.

Finally finding her words, she spoke. “Please, I… I need to get off this planet. You have a ship, right? The troopers who ran, they’ll tell the others, they’ll come after me.”

She hated how desperate she sounded, but she didn’t know what else to do. Her friends barely had enough money for speeders. Most of them had never even been off the planet. All she knew was that she needed to leave, and soon.

“Why would they waste your time on you?” the Mandalorian asked, probably unsure how a girl armed with a stylus could possibly pose a threat to the Imps.

She ignored his underestimating tone before replying. “Because I overheard what they were talking about. Once they find out who I am, they’ll kill me.”

“And who exactly are you?”

Kriff, she thought. If the Mandalorian found out just how invested she was in her recent investigations, he could use that against her. “Well… I’m Aristeia.”

The Mandalorian voiced a frustrated sigh. “And?”

“And…”

She was about to answer when she spotted a blinking red light out of the corner of her eye. Upon further inspection, she found its source: a tracking fob held in the Mandalorian’s left hand. Of course, she thought. He’s a bounty hunter. The Klatoonian must have been his bounty – that’s why he was upset when he was accidentally killed in the crossfire.

Aristeia felt her heart rate spike as she devised the best way to backtrack on her previous request for help.

She slowly made her way towards the Mandalorian, subtly attempting to get back up to street level. “...and I really should be getting back to work, so if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just head back up those stairs now.”

The Mandalorian, unfortunately, noticed the unusual change in her disposition.

“What’s the sudden rush?” he asked as the arm carrying the fob shot out to stop her escape.

“No, no, it’s nothing! I really should go. My… husband is waiting for me,” Aristeia lied. The Mandalorian just stared, his arm remaining in place. “He gets upset when I’m late.” She offered with a fake smile, trying desperately to alleviate the tension. When he still didn’t move, she continued. “He’s very big. And uhh… He’s a sheriff!” she added, for good measure. The Mandalorian cocked his head slightly to the left in response, as if seeing how far she would take her lie. “And he has lots and lots of weapons. A whole armory with guns and knives and other… spiky things.”

“Spiky things?” he asked, almost amused.

“Well, yeah.” she replied, but it came out as more of a question.

“Well, you know what I think?” he said, taking a few sauntering steps forward. His posture oozed confidence – one hand was hooked on his belt, just in front of his blaster, while the other hung casually at his side.

Aristeia took a small step backwards. “W-what?”

“I think you have a bounty on your head.”

Kriff, she thought. He’s good.

Aristeia took another step back, but the Mandalorian closed the distance quickly. She held up her hands placatedly.

“Look, I don’t… know if there’s a price on my head. I’ve always just assumed . Over the past few years, my friends, the other journalists here, they’ve been going missing. It was pretty obvious that the Imps didn’t want us sharing their activities with the whole planet. Recently, things had been pretty quiet, at least until they started freaking out about this whole ‘asset’ thing.”

The Mandalorian’s posture straightened and his towering body leaned towards hers menacingly. When he spoke, his voice lacked all the nonchalance it had earlier and instead radiated a seriousness that chilled her to the core. “What do you know about the ki- the asset?”

Aristeia, regarding his sudden change in demeanor, stuttered in response: “N-nothing really – Shouldn’t you know?”

“Nothing really?” he repeated, completely ignoring her question.

“Just what I’ve heard over the coms.” Shoot, she thought. Shouldn’t have said that.

“You have access to their coms?” he asked, a sliver of surprise peeking through his gruffness.

She did. It was one of her biggest accomplishments since arriving on Tatooine. One evening, she had been at her desk, listening to random transmissions on an old faulty comlink her mother gave her years ago. She would do this every night, never once picking up on the voice she was desperately waiting to hear. Instead, she usually caught onto feeds from people nearby: small business dealings, calls to family working out in the dunes, even the occasional secret teenage correspondence. Aristeia enjoyed listening to the small snippets of the others’ lives; it gave her hope in a world that she seemed more and more disconnected to with each new day.

But on this night, she had intercepted a transmission that was far more concerning than her typical listening content. Two voices, one that she now knew was the man in the gray suit and another who she assumed was a stormtrooper, crackled over the comlink. Within a few minutes, she not only knew that the Empire wasn’t dead, but that they were also situated right on her doorstep . After making this discovery, she made sure to keep her com set to that specific feed, which is how she ended up finding out about the meeting that led to her current encounter with the Mandalorian.

“Sometimes I have access,” she responded to the Mandalorian’s question with a nonchalant shrug. She basked in the power that this information seemed to give her over him. “It depends on how close they are, the wind levels, and if my tech is even working that day-”

“Where do you live?” he interrupted hurriedly.

Aristeia suppressed a laugh. “Excuse me?”

“Where do you live?” he repeated slowly, though this time it came out as a more of a modulated growl.

She laughed nervously. “No way, you seriously think I’d tell a bounty hunter where I lived? That’s like breaking every single rule of common sense. I mean, come on, think of this from my perspective.”

His posture relaxed minutely and he released another sigh, this one less frustrated than the previous. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it by now.”

She recognised the truth in his statement, but that didn’t mean she was willing to go out of her way to help him. For all she knew, he could take the coms and turn her in afterwards. Aristeia tried to get a better read of him, but unlike most people she met, she couldn’t. She didn’t have any guesses as to who he was, what his intentions were, or why the ‘asset’ was so important to him. In a universe of starry galaxies, he was a black hole.

“What do I get out of it?” she asked, trying her best to sound confident. She countered the slight relaxation of his own stance with the newfound boldness of her own. “Helping you, I mean.”

The Mandalorian scoffed beneath his helmet. “I saved your life, I think that’s qualifying enough.”

“You were just going after the Klatooinian.”

“And if I hadn’t, you’d be dead.”

“Wow, consider me comforted.”

He sighed, clearly agitated by her retorts. “If you show me the coms, then I won’t tell the Guild about the little notebook operation you’ve got going on down here,” he said, waving a gloved hand towards the bag that carried her journal.

“And now I’m being blackmailed. Fantastic.” she muttered, running a hand through her hair.

Aristeia stilled, evaluating her options. She could either ignore the Mandalorian and risk having him reveal her, and her work, to the Guild, or help him and hope he returned the favor. Neither option was ideal.

“Fine ,” she relented. “Just give me a second.”

Aristeia took the Mandalorian’s lack of response as a signal to go ahead, and made her way back into the darkness of the room that now reeked of death. She tried to think back to the days when she would come to the mechanic’s to repair the many malfunctions her speeder frequently sustained. She always enjoyed the loud and hectic bustle of the establishment. Its owners were kind and would always let the neighborhood kids hang out and watch them work on one project or another, occasionally even letting them help out. Those times seemed distant as Aristeia approached the body of the fallen Imp.

“Hey, you wanna hurry it up down there?” a gruff voice sounded from above.

“Really?” Aristeia replied, astonished at the Mandalorian’s near-childlike impatience.

“I thought you had some husband with a large collection of spiky things who doesn’t like it when you’re late?”

Hearing him repeat her previous lie out loud made it seem even more ridiculous, but she ignored him and continued to move towards the gray-suited man.

“What are you doing?” he called from above, seemingly untrusting of her retreat back to the main room.

Oh my stars, she thought, surprised by her own annoyance at the Mandalorian. Her initial fear had evolved into irritation at his constant attempts at intimidation and control. She couldn’t let her guard down though – she could lose her leverage at any moment and then who knows what he’d do with her.

Aristeia reigned in the sarcastic comment she was about to make and instead answered his question with a restrained sigh. “Seeing if they have any information.”

“In case you didn’t notice, they’re dead. They can’t help you.”

Obviously, she thought with a roll of her eyes, but didn’t say so out loud.

“Yeah, but their pockets can.”

Aristeia stared at the man in gray. Even though the blaster bolt to his chest all but guaranteed his death, she still approached his body warily, as if it could come back to life at any moment. Avoiding his hollow gaze, she dug through his pockets, searching for any more information that could prove useful to her future articles. All she found was a handwritten note containing some sort of coded language she didn’t recognise. She folded it carefully and put it in her own pocket for safekeeping before heading back towards the Mandalorian.

By the time she joined him at street level, the suns had already set. He took a few steps forward but paused when he felt her hesitate behind him. She felt weird leaving behind the mangled bodies of the men in the darkness below.

“We should move the bodies,” she said cautiously, her eyebrows furrowed in confliction.

“No time,” the Mandalorian replied simply, turning back towards the street.

“Please,” she pleaded, looking to her left where a group of children played in the distance. “I- I don’t want any kids finding that.”

He silently followed her gaze and stood completely still for a moment, as if debating his own response. Aristeia tried, and once again failed, to get a good read of what was going through his head.

“Fine,” he finally said. “I’ll get them in the morning.”

She would’ve liked them taken care of sooner, but it seemed that there was no room for negotiation. To be honest, she was surprised he agreed to her request at all. Something was different about this Mandalorian, and she couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing.

“Which way?” he asked, referencing her house. The one she stupidly agreed to take him to, Aristeia thought.

“Uh…” She paused briefly, but it was a moment too long for the Mandalorian’s liking. “This way,” she finished, pointing down an alley to her left. She hiked the bag she carried higher up on her shoulder and took a few steps forward before feeling a hard tug on her arm.

“Hey, I wouldn’t recommend trying anything. It wouldn’t end well for you,” the Mandalorian said threateningly. His visor stared down at her coldly and she suddenly grew extremely frustrated by the fact that she couldn’t see his eyes. She felt vulnerable under his gaze and didn’t like it one bit.

“Let go of my arm,” Aristeia replied, her voice low and serious. His grip remained strong. She stared daggers up at his helmet and it was the first time since meeting him that she was truly angry. “I said, let go.”

To her surprise, she felt his grip loosen and she promptly tugged her arm away from him. Her posture radiated confidence, but the fear in her eyes betrayed her. Without a word, she spun around and continued heading in the direction of her small house, not sparing another look behind her to see if the Mandalorian was following.

He was.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Masterlist || Next (coming soon!)

#supernova fic #hazel writes #hazel's fanfic #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin #grogu #din djarin x female oc #star wars fanfic #star wars #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #quotev

[fairyreaper22345]

Hey can i offer you guys a short fluffy tododeku fic

syke I'm giving it to you anyway

-

Twilight was always Shouto’s favourite time of day. He couldn’t tell you why – although, if you looked into it, it may have been that he saw himself in it. He saw himself as that balance between light and dark, day and night, fire and ice. In a way, he saw himself as the moments of sundown, ever walking the bridge between two sides.

That’s why he always found himself walking along pavements around this time. He found his feet would pace out of the door, mind wandering, not really concentrating on his movement. It got dark early around this time of year anyway, so he found himself going out earlier and earlier - shops hadn't even closed by the time he left, nowadays. He usually spent this time - this time of silent, amicable, cosmic turmoil - buying things for his classmates. He had money, so why not - plus, it was an easy way to make friends. He wasn't very good at the social side of things, but gift giving? Easy peasy. He was quiet, observant, and had plenty of daddy's money. Gifts came naturally to him - it was, well, a gift.

As he wound his way along not-quite-dark, but not-quite-light-either, streets, he listed off what he should buy; more birdseed for Tokoyami, he was starting to run out. Maybe he should keep it in a puzzle-feeder, one of those fun little contraptions that cats like to play with - did Tokoyami need enrichment? Do eagles play with their food? Was Tokoyami even an eagle? He looked more like a crow, honestly. And more importantly, would Tokoyami be mad if he bought a complex feeder? He decided it was worth the risk - PetCo was on route home anyway, he might as well go inside.

Oh, and Mina needed a new pillow… or six. Hadn't she gone and corroded through it again? He was sure she'd mentioned something like that… did she drool acid in her sleep? Sounded like a problem. Maybe they sold metal pillowcases in Home Depot. That didn't sound comfortable, but in a world with such varied quirks, that must come in handy somewhere, right? Did such a thing exist as quirk-proof pillows? He made a mental note to find out.

Oh, and Iida needed some engine oil, too. His damn pipes needed lubricating or something - Shouto didn't really remember the details, just that he'd mentioned his MOT in passing. Shouto didn't know people had to get MOTs - although he supposed it made sense. 

Before he could think of anything to add to his ever-growing shopping list, a bright orange light shone to his right, his side of the road, bright through the dwindling sun. PetCo, fantastic - maybe they had the seeds Tokoyami liked. Sunflower, he thought - he was sure he'd overheard a conversation about them. Or were they his least favourite seed? Shouto didn't want to make that mistake, that would be rather-

Ding!

Todoroki's phone vibrated with a little note in his back pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts, indicating he'd gotten a text. That was a little odd - people didn't usually text him, let alone at this time. They knew he'd be out on his Walk of Contemplation.

Pulling the mobile from his back pocket, a name flashed on the screen. "Midoriya 👉👈" it said, in searing white letters.

Shouto blushed slightly - he loved getting messages from his boyfriend. Izuku was always so polite and complimentary, and so eloquent, and-

Opening the message with a brush of his thumb, he saw that, in reality, Izuku hadn't actually said anything. He'd just sent his location, no word of explanation.

If Shouto was holding anything but his phone, he'd have dropped it, consequences be damned.

Last time Izuku had texted him something like this - in fact, it was exactly this, verbatim - it was about the incident in Hosu city. That time, two of his friends had nearly died, and he could've gone down with them.

It pained him to think about it - he wasn't short on traumatic experiences, but fighting the Hero Killer was truly a grisly highlight of his tragic backstory. 

It could be a butt dial. He was really hoping that this message was a butt dial.

He wasn't willing to take that chance.

He pivoted on the ball of his foot, doing a complete 180, throwing himself away from the store front and back into the cold, darkening dusk - he gripped his phone roughly and ran.

His feet pounded against asphalt. He didn't know much about social cues, or healthy family relationships, but he did know about running. Running from the truth, from his past, from himself - running along sidewalks and cement - he knew all about that. He'd been running since the get-go.

Musutafu roads were well known. He didn't need a map. He needed energy, stamina, and he had it - danger, fear, adrenaline pumped faster than blood and stronger than fire through his broken, hurt, traumatised veins. Corners were obstructions, and side alleys were shortcuts - c'mon Shouto, faster, faster, Deku could be in trouble. His legs couldn't hold him, couldn't hold the speed of his heartbeat. 

He neared the location on the GPS, but his boyfriend was nowhere to be found - in fact, it was a block of flats. Inside the block of flats, actually - and Todoroki could see right through the window, right where Izuku should have been standing, but he wasn't - he wasn't there. Perhaps he was above. 

Fear, dread, seeping into his veins like oxygen, Shouto thrust out his arm, an icy, brittle ladder forming in front of him. On another day, he'd have no problem with something so simple as a set of steps - this day, now, with the concern in his veins, he could barely manage it.

Izuku wasn't on the second floor, either.

Leaning against the window, Todoroki breathed heavily, counting to ten - and then out, closing his eyes with the steadying rhythm of his lungs. Okay, he'd have to think about this analytically, intelligently - he couldn't see fire, or plumes of smoke, so on the surface nothing seemed amiss. In that same, long, deep breath, though, he considered that Izuku, lovely Izuku, eloquent Izuku, concise Izuku, would never simply send a location, unless it was a dire emergency. Unless it was like Hiso.

Pacing himself, he concentrated once more on frozen stairs, this time managing a cascading, glittering set of fractals, that led a path to the next flat up. Perhaps Izuku would be on this one, and he'd explain that it was all just an accident, and thank you for coming to my aide, but actually I'm fine-

The toll on his legs evident, Shouto staggered up his DIY-stairwell, glaring with growing exhaustion into the room above; sure enough, there he was. Izuku Midoriya. 

Lovely Midoriya, eloquent Midoriya, concise Midoriya, sat on a cushioned bed, shirtless, his slender back exposed to the open third-floor window. 

Shouto knew he should've said something, but he couldn't help it - he saw a wonderful, peaceful side of his boyfriend. He saw slightly muscled arms, unkempt green hair that he'd have loved to have messed with, shoulder blades like shields. He was so endearing; his freckles covered his body, from face to neck to legs, like stars in a galaxy-filled sky. Shouto wanted to trace them, follow the constellations with his finger tips, finding new star systems and signs embedded in his boyfriend's skin.

"Izuku," he breathed, at last, eyes still fixated on those Greek Pantheon shoulders, occasionally wandering from there to the All Might posters on the walls (Todoroki wasn't so fussed about the man, now he'd actually met him) or to the neatly discarded pile of today's laundry. 

Deku didn't seem so surprised. If anything, he was gleeful, glad Shouto came to see him - even if he was half-hanging out of a three-story window. "Come in, Shouto," he smiled to the boy behind him, one green eye exposed under the outside street lamp. 

Clambering through the window, Todoroki whispered a question with mild urgency. "I saw your text. I was worried. Is there an emergency?"

Izuku sat on his bed, wearing only his boxers and a smile, and grinned that sun-bringing, crop-watering, skin-clearing grin that Shouto always found himself falling deeply for.

"Nah. I just wanted to see you."

Todoroki released tension he didn't realise he was still holding, breathing a relieved, although exasperated, sigh.

Actions, they say, speak louder than words - in that moment, as he took Izuku's hand in his, kissing his knuckles gently, it was the truth. In that moment, as he rested his mouth against Deku's, it was true that no words could have meant anything more than the lazy gratitude, and the tired giggles they shared.

#no i cant characterise todoroki why do you ask #tododeku #shouto todoroki #izuku midoriya #my writing #fanfiction #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #long post

[commorsicoclub]

The First Beat (When Red met Penny)

Prequel to The Good Chase.  

(G/T soft vore. M/F. Human Prey, Giant Pred. Fearplay. Mouthplay. Belly rubs. Magic tricks. Snarky prey. Non-fatal. )

“You’ll be on your own starting tomorrow,” said the portly fellow in the driver seat. Maynard was thirty something years Red’s senior and was mere days away from his retirement. He’d been shoved onto the man last minute with vague orders to show the newbie his beat and aquatint him with the idiosyncrasies of the department. “I’ve got a few things still to wrap up before the end of it. It’s not a hard assignment. Boring really. You’ll be glad of it at first, but believe me. It gets old fast.”  

Eldridge Park was a middle class neighborhood on the west end of the city metro with its white marble apartment buildings and brownstone townhouses and tree lines streets. It was a nice place and crime was shockingly low so Red was more than a little disappointed to learn he’d been assigned to this particular precinct. He had hoped to be placed somewhere closer to the city center where they had actual crimes. Murders, arson, and armed robbery. Not petty larceny and littering. But he supposed it would look good on his record to have a year or two before jumping to another precinct.

“So, all I do is walk around the park in the middle of the night?” he asked flatly, looking out the window and then to Maynard.

“Not just the park, but that’s the better part of it,” Maynard replied. “It’s a big place, but don’t expect much real action. Worst I ever came across was a homeless fucker feeling up a girl on her way home from a late shift. Other then that, it’s just you and the humans.”

That got Red’s attention. “Humans?”

Maynard’s expression for the entirety of their shift thus far had been a placid neutrality leaning into boredom. But with this exchange, he looked at Red and grinned wickedly. “Oh yeah. Eldridge park is a hot spot.”

Red was no less enlightened. “So I’m going to be keeping hobos in check and arresting vermin.”

“You don’t arrest humans, kid,” Maynard said with a laugh. “Well, on the books we do. But there’s a lot of paperwork that goes with it, so none of us on this beat ever bother.”

“So, what do you do then?”

Maynard reached into his pocket and pulled out a small metal case. He flicked it open with one fat finger and pulled a cigarette out. Holding it between his teeth, he struck a match and lit it. Only after taking a long draw from it did he looked back at Red to answer him. “You eat them.”

………………………………………….

The night was cool and crisp against his face as Red followed Maynard through the traipsing paths of the park. It was dark, but the moon was full and they had no difficulty seeing their way. He watched Maynard’s movements, noting the way the older officer walked and where his head turned to look at certain areas of the park. Old habits he’d developed over an entire career and he as eager to know them.

“They’re not too dissimilar to dwarf, but not as sweet tastin’ as elves,” he was saying. “And not as fast either.”

“And the Chief's okay with us just...eatin’ up suspects like that?”

“Humans are an invasive species, kid,” he said. “They pop through these…cripes, what the hell are they called again. Black hole kind of things. The just pop out of nowhere from some other dimension or something. Rivers can explain the science to you if you really want, but for my purposes tonight, we just gotta catch one.”

“How many do you normally find?”

“As little as one a week to as much as eight. You probably won’t see more than two a shift at most. And you better be real hungry if you get three in one night or you’ll have to file the paperwork for the one when the other two are in your belly. And they make a racket too.”

Red wasn’t unfamiliar with eating creatures smaller than himself whole and alive. He was quite partial to Elf, but the wild ones were so expensive and the farm raised just didn’t taste as good. Dwarf was all well and good, but they tended to give him indigestion. Goblins were tolerable, but they always needed a good wash before being anywhere near edible and their skin was an odd texture. They were a bit of an acquired taste and one he never really developed, even if they were the cheapest of all live prey available on the market. But he would treat himself to wild Elf on his birthday or special occasions when he could justify the hit to his wallet.  

He normally just stuck to sandwiches.

“If they’re so delicious, I wonder why no one’s tried to farm them,” Red wondered.

“Oh they’ve tried,” Maynard replied. “But they don’t reproduce as quick as other prey so the price of them once they reached eating size would be three times the price of top shelf wild Elf. That and most folks just see them as rats on two legs.”

Rev grinned. “More for us then.”

Maynard laughed and slapped the junior officer on the back. “That’s the spirit! Now, let’s see if we’ve got any biters.”

Red obligingly followed his senior officer as he left the main path walked towards a cloister of bushes. Settled inside the thicker portions of the shrubbery, he saw a metal cage. It was empty and had not been tripped. The metal was dark and blended amazingly well within the bushes. He’d only seen it when Maynard pushed aside the leaves and the metal had caught the moonlight.

“I’ve got a good many of these all set up in the park. I’ve got a map in the car of where each of them are. Most human pop through confused and disorientated and try to find small hidey-holes to rest in. Most mistake these cages for a safe little place to stow away.” He looked up and grinned at Red. “Easy lunch.”

Red only nodded, feeling rather curious now. He’d had a good breakfast and he wasn’t particularly hungry, he wouldn’t refuse a little treat. The checked seventeen more traps over the course of the next five hours and none of them had been tripped. Maynard was begging to get a little impatient.

“It’s the perfect night for one to pop through,” he was muttering bitterly. “Cold clear nights are a good sign you’re gonna find one. I still have three more traps to check. Come one, rookie.”

They hit pay-dirt at second to the last trap. Even from a good distance away. Maynard spotted the his trap had caught something and he gave a gleeful hoot and waddled excitedly over. Red jogged to keep pace and could not help but privately ponder to himself that if Maynard hadn’t spent so much of his shifts stuffing himself full of humans, maybe he would be so darn fat.

His attention was abruptly pulled back when there came a shrill cry. There was a small creature inside the metal contraption and he tried to get a good look at it, but Maynard’s fat hand was pawing at it as he tried to open it up. Red was about to offer his assistance when the fat officer let out a “Ha ha!” and he wretched the little metal door open and drew out the prize from inside. The human was a pale pink color and was wearing clothing that looked much the same as an ordinary person would and it looked almost silly to behold it. But he didn’t get much of a chance to study it before Maynard held it up to him.

“Consider it a ‘welcome to the team’ treat,” he said with an oily smile. “She’s a fighter, so probably best to get her down as quick as you can.”

“Let me go, fucking piece of shit, giant ass fuck!” The human was very unhappy and was thrashing against Maynard militant hold on her, but Red was able to smell the distinct scent of fear and her and despite his curiosity to look at her more, to study her, he was all at once rather peckish. Maynard chuckled and pressed the little body into Red’s hands. “Down the hatch, rookie.”

Red laughed, swallowing the excess saliva and tipped his head back as he brought the little human up in the same gesture.

“You can’t be fucking serious right now, dude. No way. No! Holy shit, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...don’t you fucking dare!”

He ignore the panicking mantra from his lunch and slipped her feet onto his tongue. There was a sweet burst of flavor very reminiscent of elf, but it quickly faded into the more deep savory flavor more along the lines of dwarf. Oh, humans were delicious! Complex in their taste and her skin was so smooth. No where near the leathery lumpy affair that was goblin. He hummed in pleasure as he fed her upper thighs into his mouth and gave his first swallow.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, PLEASE DON’T!” Her shrill voice brought him back to reality and his eyes focused in on her face. She trembled in abject terror and struggled as much as she could given her lower half was in his gullet and her top half was firmly being held by his large fingers. He found himself smiling. It was a cruel gesture, but it was instinctual and he relished in the letting the true predator side of himself lose. He wasn’t in a fancy restaurant or a cafe where he needed to mind his manners. This was wild and free and without rules. The true manifestation of what it meant to be the top of the food chain. And Gods did he love the feeling...

He swallowed again and brought the girl’s torso into his mouth. He closed his lips around her neck and let go of her, letting her hang inside him and wiggle as much as she might. She was thicker bodied than an elf, but taller than a dwarf. A perfect middle ground of the two. He felt her little hands pressing against his lips and he almost laughed when one of her hands slipped and ended up slapping his gums. He supposed he’d tortured her enough and gulped hard twice in quick succession, sucking her down into his gullet and sending her on her way down to his belly. 

He breathed deeply now that his airways weren’t blocked and he looked to Maynard with an almost fanatical grin.

“Told you,” he said simply. “Tasty little fuckers, huh?”

“Fuck,” was all Red could manage. The human had spilled out into his belly and was now making all her complaints and protestations known by kicking and punching his insides. Such treatment was usually why he did not often partake in dwarf, but the human was no where near as strong and her strikes tickled more than anything. They were actually rather pleasant and he found himself licking his lips, trying to get one last taste of her.

Maynard laughed loudly, watching his junior partner’s sagging belly bounce and wiggle with his lunch’s frantic movements. He reached out and slapped it playfully. “How’d you like your first human, Red?”

“I think I’m a convert,” he replied, wiping the drool off the corners of his mouth.

………………………..

The human did not stop her squirming for the remainder of his shift. But by the time he slipped through his apartment door, roughly an hour later, she had gone quite and he figured she had finally succumbed to his stomach and would soon digest away like his other live meals. Though, he had to admit she had lasted a good while in there. He was almost impressed.

He pulled off his coat and shirt and sat down on his bed to pull off his boots. The maneuver required him to lean down over his own bulging belly and as he pulled off his first boot he heard it. A soft whimpering. And a voice. “..fucking stupid way to die...so fucking hot in here...can’t breathe for shit...smells like ass...”

Red started to laugh and that seemed to offend his lunch enough to spur her into one last kicking fit accompanied by a cry of, “YOU’RE A FAT FUCKING ASS HAT!”

He sat back up and looked down at his belly. “Well if I’m fat, you’re to blame.”

He wasn’t sure if her abrupt silence meant she had passed out or was too surprised to that he spoke to her to reply back. But then she did answer him.

“COUGH ME UP YOU FUCKER! YOU CAN’T GO AROUND EATING PEOPLE JUST BECAUSE YOU FUCKING FEEL LIKE IT!”

Red patted his belly, amused. “Funny you say that. Because I’m pretty sure I just did.”

She kicked him, lower than before and he winced. She’s struck a kidney or something.

“Dude!” she yelled again, but her voice had lost the volume. “Please, just...please let me out...”

“Why?” he asked, rubbing his gut in an almost affectionate manner.

“Because I don’t want to be your fucking food!”

“And yet, you are in my belly. Where food normally goes.”

“That was your mistake, not mine!” He was grinning. He’d never even spoken to his food before. More so because he didn’t speak elvish and the dwarf accents were so hard to understand that he just never bothered. And he wasn’t even sure Goblins had a real language. It was a pleasant change of pace.

“Tell you what, morsel,” he said, his voice low and almost growling. “If you can give me one reason why I should swap you out for the cold sandwich in my fridge, I’ll let you out.”

The human was silent for a moment. “...you promise?”

“Sure. I promise.”

“Like...pinkie swear and shit?”

“Well, I can’t exactly do a pinkie swear with you in there so...”

“Symbolic pinkie swear then!”  

“Okay. Symbolic pinkie swear. You just have to convince me you’re worth more alive then as lunch.”

After several moments, he felt the human suddenly shift. “Magic!” she said. “I can do magic!”

That got Red’s attention and eyed his belly dubiously. “Really now?”

“Yup! I can do magic.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I can’t show you from inside your fucking stomach now can I?!”  

Red stood up and walked to the kitchen. He flicked the light on and went to the sink. “OK. I’ll bring you out and you can do your magic, but I warn you now morsel. If you’re lying, I’m gobbling you back up and this time...” he paused. “I might just bite a little.”

It was surprisingly difficult to push his food back up once he’d swallowed it. Putting his fingers down his throat didn’t really do much other than make him wretch and his stomach clench. Which the human really did not appreciate. After the fourth failed attempt, he was ready to say fuck it and just go sit and watch TV until his belly finished her off. But he was genuinely curious now and he was spurred on more by annoyance and stubbornness than anything.

“Should...should I...like...help?” the human asked tentatively.

Red growled. “Might be nice.”

He tried one more time was shocked when he felt the warm lump push up into his esophagus. Once it had a good hold on the human, the rest went much more smoothly and after only a few moments, he felt her push up from the back of his throat and her little hands were grabbing onto his tongue and trying to pry herself out. He opened his mouth and plucked her from inside, pulling her from his jaws and setting her down onto the counter. She wobbled on her feet before falling hard onto her knees, too weak and disorientated to remain standing. Her skin was flushed and red from where his stomach acids had began to burn her and he felt a soft pang of guilt. It looked like it hurt. But he steeled himself and looked down at her with a frown.

“Alright, human. Let’s see this amazing magic of yours.” He knew some Elves could do magic and most fairies, but he had never seen any of it. Maynard hadn’t said anything about humans being able to perform magic, so maybe only some could?

The human held up both her hands, showing him the back and her palms as though to prove she held nothing. She presented the back of one hand, the thumb bent inward and used her other hand to place the tip of her other thumb so it aligned with the profile of its fellow, index finger and middle finger bent over to hide the gap. She slid the hand with the tip of her thumb visible back and forth as though she meant it as an impressive deed and the clapped her hands together and presented them both. Each hand still in possession of their thumbs.  

It was a parlor trick. A silly hand illusion to trick simple minded children that one could sever the tip of the thumb and magically reattach it with a simple wave of their hands. And almost as though to add insult to injury, the human finished their performance with a tired sounding, “Ta da.”

Red starred, expecting more and when the little human only starred back, he realized that he had been had. There was no magic. Just a magic trick, an illusion and it should have angered him. It should have made him furious and he should have devoured the wretched little liar right then and there…

...but instead he started to laugh. Loudly. He leaned back against the opposite counter and covered his face as the laughter turned into a fit of giggles and when he peeked between his fingers at the human, who was now looking at him with a fearful uneasiness, his laughter was renewed. It an absurd bargain she had made with him, betting her very life on the idea he might be impressed by such a paltry little showing. It was stupid and reckless and oddly...brave.

“S-so...” her shivering voice brought him back. “So...are you going to...let me go?”

He composed himself and regarded the little creature for a long moment and then said, “No.”

She scowled at him. “I knew it! You’re a fucking liar!”

He scoffed. “Me? What about you? That wasn’t magic.”

“It was a magic trick,” she replied firmly. “I just omitted a word. I didn’t lie.”

“Well, in any case I didn’t say I’d let you go,” he replied with a smug grin. “I said I would let you out. Never mentioned anything about releasing you or even that I wouldn’t be putting you back in later.”

The human’s scowl was gone and she bite her lip. As she began to scoot back across the counter, she started shaking in fear again. “Fucking liar...”

Red watched her shake and tremble, easily imagining she thought he meant to eat her then and there and he wasn’t in too much of a hurry to assure her of the contrary. He was having fun.

“I didn’t lie,” he purred as he loomed over her.

“You said all I needed to do was convince you I was worth more alive,” she spat, tears falling down her face now.

“And do you feel like you sufficiently did that?”

“I made you laugh,” she retorted. “Like...a lot. That should count for something, right?”

She was bargaining again, Red mused. “It was amusing, but if that’s all...”

“I didn’t say it was all,” the human snapped back. “I have more.”

Red regarded her with a flat, unimpressed look. “Oh do tell...”

“I can stick my tongue out and touch my forehead.”

Red blinked and his confused silence seemed to give the human the impression he was waiting for her display the odd quirk. But all she did was stick her tongue out at him and...touch her forehead with the index finger of her right hand.

Almost involuntarily, Red smiled and started to laugh again. He paced around the kitchen for a moment and then out into the hall before doubling back into the kitchen, laughing all the while. The human had taken his momentary absence as a chance to hide, but his kitchen countered were sparse and there were only two places to hide. Behind the toaster or inside the bread box. He could see the toaster well enough to know she was not there so he flipped open the box to see the human trying to hide under the remaining half loaf of bread. He chuckled at her and reach inside to pull her out.

She fought, but had grown very weak and could not do much of anything but smack his hand and kick her feet. “Please...please don’t kill me...”

He looked at the human and found that he didn’t want to eat her again. Not because she was not appetizing or that he wasn’t hungry, but she had succeeded in her original task; To convince him she was worth more than being his lunch. She was far too amusing a creature to sacrifice to his belly.

“I’m not going to eat you,” he said and watched her study him as though trying to figure out if she should believe him. “You’ve won your bargain, human. Congratulations.”

She sucked in a breath and shuddered, fat tears rolling down her face. “You’re not lying?”

“Nah,” he replied. “You’re a funny little thing. Might be worth keeping you around for a laugh.”

She held out her hand, little pinkie extended. “Pinkie promise.”

He eyed her. “We already did.”

“Real pinkie promise,” she said. “Promise that you aren’t lying and you won’t eat me ever again.”

He rolled his eyes, but obligingly offered his own pinkie of his free hand to her. “Fine, I promise I am not lying to you and I will not eat you ever again.” Their different sizes made it an awkward exchange, but the little human seemed satisfied enough. He sat back down on the counter and once she was standing under her own power, he grinned at her and licked his lips. “I make no such promises about eating any other humans though.”

She gaped at him, horrified. “Dude!”

He laughed and then asked, “Have a name, human? Or should I keep calling your morsel?”

“My name’s Penny,” she replied.

“Okay, Penny. I’m Red.” 

#soft vore #fearplay #non fatal vore #teasing pred #human prey #giant pred #male pred #g/t vore #vore writing #female prey #m/f vore

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

I want to write this as a full story, this is based off of a weird dream I had

Lascia che ti porti in paradiso

You drove you car down the highway and couldn't help but wriggle around try not to reenact the dance from Napoleon dynamite as Canned heat played on the radio. You couldn't help but feel like the world was rooting for you, you had woken up two days ago to find out that you had been written down to be the soul inherentor of a stranger's fortune and estate.

At first you were reluctant on the offer, thinking there must have been some mistake or a scam but no it wasn't and it turned out the stranger had no living relatives and had picked out your name out of the thousands of others in the state rather then let the government take it.

You were now on your way to your new home with the few things you had from your apartment all packed in the back.

You had sold most of your furniture since your new mansion already had a ton.

You hummed as you tapped your hands on the steering wheel before seeing a man run out Infront of your car. You slammed your foot on the brake and closed your eyes, hoping you wouldn't hit him. Your car made a screeching halt and you opened you eyes and saw that the man had fazed through the front of your car. You were face to face with the ghost.

"Danm it you nearly made me a ghost myself! don't you know some of us living can see you!" You scolded.

"Sorry..." He replied.

"Trying to kill yourself isn't going to do anything... You need to fulfill your life task if you wanna move on" you explained to him before someone knocked on you window.

"Yes?" You asked the man outside as you winded down the window slightly.

"Why the fuck did you slam on the fucking brake! Nobody's in fucking front of you!" The man yelled as he hurled profanity after profanity at you.

"I'm sorry, I just had a bit of a panic attack..." You explained to the male before driving off again.

You had become accustom to the existence of ghosts, you had been able to see them for most of your life. You had especially grown use to it while living in that dodgy apartment since a lot of drug use and domestic abuse happened around that area. You could have become a psychic medium but really couldn't see yourself being one so you lived a life like everyone else.

You made a turn off the highway and drove through a few streets before stopping at a service station to refuel your car. In the store you paid the woman at the counter that had disinterest written all over her face before your phone ran. You quickly grabbed it out of your pocket as you made your way back to the car.

"Hello?" You answered to the phone.

"Oh hello miss (Y/n), I was wondering how long you'd be to the house?" The inheritance lawyer asked.

"Well I just got off of the highway, I'll probably be there in another hour..." You responded.

"Ok that's perfect, that'll give me time to drop my kids off at my mother's" he explained.

"Ok, I'll meet you at the house soon" you said.

"Bye"

"Bye"

You put your phone back in your pocket before opening your car door and grabbing out the mapbook and finding the right page.

"Ok so I'm on Charlotte Street now... so I'll have to go straight through Devondale then turn off at Rochester road then Tamala way til I reach Willow peaks" you said to yourself as you looked through the map before starting up the engine again.

🍁🍁🍁

You stopped your car at a pair of large gates that stood proudly Infront of your property. You hopped out the car and approached the gate and unlocked the the padlock that sealed it shut before hopping back in and driving up the long winding driveway where tall trees blocked out most of the sunlight til you reached a clearing. The  three to four story mansion shadow loomed over the land where a beautiful garden grew with an abundance of colourful flowers. Roses, carnations, snapdragons, dianthus, gardenias, if you could name a flower it was most likely there. You parked you car outside the garage. You stepped out and the fragrance of the garden hit your nose like a surprisingly pleasant punch to the face. You admired the garden even more as you walked past the flowerbeds and inspected the flowers more closely. They were so well kept, surely the previous owner had hired gardeners to maintain it after they passed.

You walked around the back to see various fruit trees in bloom. Cherries, peaches, plums, apples, lemons and oranges. In the middle a old water fountain stood. As you approach you could make out the statute, a young man with long in robes and chains holding up a flower with it's roots intact. You stood on the edge of the fountain and looked at features of the worn statue that was made of a mixture gold and bronze or copper.

The man had long wavy hair with a curled fringe, plump lips, a young but well built body and eyes that seemed to see all despite being a statue. You then took note on all the lime and calcium that had built up on it as well as how full the metal was maybe you would go and grab some stuff tomorrow and give it a well needed clean.

"The estate is very impressive, isn't it?" A familiar voice asked.

You turned and saw the inheritance lawyer who was a few metres behind you.

"It's amazing, if the outside is this this good then I can only imagine how the inside must be" you replied.

"How can somebody keep a garden so perfect?" You asked.

"The previous owner told me that she hadn't worked on the garden for five years yet it had never overgrown" he explained.

"Did she know anything about this statute?" You asked, so curious to find how such beauty had been immortalized.

"No she didn't, it's been here since this place was first constucted in 1797" he explained.

"1797?!" You gasped.

"Yes, but of course it's had it's fair share of renovations, some to preserve it and others to extend it" he explained to you but your attention was soon diverted to one of the windowsills as a curtain was pulled aside and somebody peered through only to close it again.

"I'm excuse me but is anybody in the house already?" You asked as you looked back to the man.

"No there should be anyone else here, why do you ask?"

"I was just curious, that's all" you replied.

"You must be eager to see the inside" he chuckled as you both returned to the front and approached the front door. He grabbed out the keys to the house before unlocking the door and opening it.

You both walked in to see the massive entranceway. A high celling with a crystal chandelier hanging down, two sets of stairs on either side of the room, dark wallpaper and lavish rugs, painting decorating the walls. It was like what you'd see in the movies.

"This is amazing!" You gasped.

"Yep and you haven't even seen the 28 rooms" he said but before you could respond you saw somebody in plain sight run across the upstairs balcony.

"Did you just see that?" You asked as you pointed to where you saw them.

"No, I didn't see anything, are you sure your mind isn't playing tricks on you?"

"It's probably just me" you sighed before he lead you off to see all the rooms on the ground floor.

The kitchen was huge and so was the dinning room and entertaining area. You had your own laundry room, a study, two bathrooms and an atrium which led to the garden. You even had a basement / cellar. Then he brought you up to the second and third story where ten large bedrooms were placed, two of them being connected to large bathrooms with a nice black and gold colour scheme that screamed opulence. There were four more bathrooms for guests and then another study / entertaining area before you reached the attic which was the only place that wasn't clean. It was filled to the brim with boxes and spare furniture covered in cobwebs and dust. You had a quick look through all the furniture.

"I'll go down the the dinning room and get the paperwork ready for you to sign while you have a look around" he said as he left.

You took a step and accidentally tripped over a sheet, a framed portrait falling onto you in the process. You got into a sitting position and picked up the painting. It was of the same man depicted in the statue. His skin was fair, one of his eyes was a blueish green while the other was amberish, somewhere between brown and hazel. His long locks were a golden blonde, his arms were loosely wrapped around the neck of a young doe while a snake was loosely draped around his neck. The man's features seemed peaceful but he also seemed to radiate an aura of superiority.

The male must of had something to do with this household. The question thou was how?

#yandere x reader #yandere #jojo golden wind #jojos bizarre adventure #yandere giorno giovanna #yandere giorno #giorno x reader #giorno #jojo giorno #spacy works

[lu-undy]

Chapter 9 - SBT

Here it is! And thanks for those who leave comments and appreciate my scribbles :D !

Lucien’s next destination was the tailor. He needed to fill his wardrobe, but not only that, he also needed to get his first contact with the man. He was on the list of the people he should visit to fully understand where he was. 

The Frenchman went back to the hotel to get his car. The tailor was quite further away. As soon as he arrived, he went straight to the reception.

“Mister L, how can I help Sir?”

“I will need my car ready in a few minutes. Would that be possible?” He left one key on the counter.

“Of course, Sir. Anything else?”

“Non, that will be all. I will be waiting in the lounge.”

“Understood.”

Lucien waited on a sofa, a glass of water in his hand. He tried to remember the content of the file as regards the tailor. He used to be based in France but had asked to move away and his heart had set to Australia. 

“Hm.”

Australia was as far as one could get from France. There weren’t a lot of places further away from home. He looked outside the hotel’s front window and could see a bright blue sky and the sun shining beautifully. It almost seemed as though he was on a different planet. One where he was clean shaven again, dressed in a suit, and off to be what defined him the most, a spy. He smiled to himself in that bittersweet feeling. He felt decades younger for a fleeting moment.

“Uh, sir?”

Lucien recognised the shy voice.

“Oui, Bastien, right?” He asked and the young man nodded timidly, his head lowered down.

“Your car’s ready, Sir.”

“You can call me L.”

“Thanks, Sir.”

“Thank you.” Lucien answered and stood up, heading for the door.

“Uh, Mister L, Sir?”

Lucien turned.

“Oui?”

Bastian was staring at his feet and the Frenchman took it for shyness.

“Uhm, thank you, Sir.”

Now Lucien understood. Bastian was staring at his new shoes.

“My pleasure. See you later.”

They courteously bowed to each other before the Frenchman exited the hotel and hopped on his car. 

“Bien, allons-y.”

[Right, let’s go.]

He placed the map on the passenger’s seat next to him and put on a pair of sunglasses. Lucien drove while glancing at it from time to time. Soon enough, he found himself in the right street and was lucky enough to find a slot to park the Panthera. He exited his car and entered the tailor's. 

"Bonjour, good Sir. How may I help?"

A man impeccably dressed himself came to welcome the Frenchman. He was about Lucien's height but quite older as his equally neat white moustache showed. Judging by his spot on pronunciation of "Bonjour", Lucien confirmed that he was indeed French too. 

"Bonjour, Monsieur. I would need a word with you. My request is rather unusual." Lucien answered. 

"But of course, Sir." The tailor moved behind his counter and invited Lucien to follow.

"Your name?" He asked as he looked down at a notebook behind his counter.

"L." 

The tailor looked around. A few apprentices worked with him. He sent them to the workshop behind the shop and went to the door. 

"Pray take a seat." 

Lucien went to one of the leather armchairs and sat down. He watched as the tailor flipped the sign on his front door from "open" to "closed" and locked the door. Eventually, he released the curtains and to whoever passed by in the streets, it seemed as though the shop was closed. 

"Bien, we may talk now and please feel as free as you would in Paris." The tailor finally broke the silence and sat on the armchair opposite his client. "My name is Richard. I am honoured to meet you, L." 

Hands were shaken. 

"So am I. You knew I was coming?" 

"I have received communication from Paris, oui." 

"News travel fast." Lucien answered. 

"They do indeed. But tell me, how may I help you?" 

"I have come to get to know you and your trade. But before you explain it to me, do you mind if I smoke?"

"Non, please by all means."

Lucien nodded and offered a cigarette to his colleague who politely refused. 

"I have stopped smoking ages ago. My wife you see, she made me see reason." 

Lucien smiled. 

"I am sorry for you then, Richard." 

The older man smiled softly. 

"Don't be. She's the best thing that happened to me in my life. But I can tell by your smirk that you haven't met yours yet."

"The description that you make of your wife is touching. But indeed I haven't met a woman who fits this description yet." 

"And yet your reputation tells me that you have met quite a few, non?"

Lucien chuckled. 

"Quite a few, oui. But let us come back to the point." 

"Oh, of course. My trade? Well, I sell high quality, custom designed and custom made suits. Uhm, do you mind standing up for an instant…?"

Lucien put the cigarette between his lips and obliged. The expert tailor had a close look at the Frenchman's suit. His fingers carefully ran on the sewing lines, the shoulders, the buttons and the pockets. 

"Ah, you had Jean-Marc do this suit, non?"

Lucien opened wide eyes. 

"I did indeed, how could you tell without looking at the-"

"I know a thing or two about suits. This is very classic, almost strict design. The sewing lines are tense. This is Jean-Marc, there is no mistaking it. Also, this is very uhm, French. I guess you have arrived recently…?"

"Indeed, I have." 

"Tell you what. I'll tell you more about the house while I get busy, alright?" Richard suggested and before Lucien could argue, the tailor clapped his hands and his apprentices came in the room. They guided the spy on the side. There was a stage there, a few steps to climb on it and three large mirrors surrounding it. 

"Now, les enfants, allons-y!"

[Kids, let's go!]

Lucien watched as they removed his jacket and started taking measurements. 

"Feel free to speak in front of them as you would in front of me. They are my sons." 

"Ah, I see. Nice to meet you, young men." 

Both nodded but remained silent. 

"While we make this new suit for you, allow me to discuss our business further. The front shop is a tailor and that is my first job. However, clothes are not the only things I sell. You will find a variety of… Well… equipment in my shop."

"What kind?" Lucien asked as Richard's sons walked around him and took more measurements.

"Weapons and accessories you might find useful. Of course, my suits can offer possibilities of storage for such equipment." 

"I see. So, should I need to prepare for some more frontal encounters, I should visit you first?" Lucien asked. 

"Exactly." Richard answered. "But that is not all."

Lucien's eyebrows rose as Richard's sons put the spy's jacket back on his shoulders and showed the measurements they had taken to their father. The tailor inspected the notes scribbled by his son closer. 

"Hm… I understand your reputation." He said. "Your proportions are worthy of a model!" 

Lucien smirked proudly and adjusted his tie. 

"I have never had any complaints." 

Richard chuckled. 

"But pray tell me what else you can do." The spy asked. 

"Before I answer, for the suit, do you have any preferences?" 

"Something classic, something that doesn't stand off too much. Maybe grey, or brown."

"Ah, that might work in Paris, L, but here you have to wear a bit more colour."

"Hm…" Lucien winced. 

"Don't worry, I am not suggesting you should dress up like a clown. Why not try this…" 

Richard stepped off the stage and Lucien followed him. He took a Burgundy cloth off one of the shelves. 

"A mix of cotton and linen. Sober and classic, yet the red brings that little touch of colour to be more discreet." 

"More colour to be more invisible?" Lucien asked. 

"Australia is a parrot zoo. If you want to blend in, you need to be as colourful." 

Lucien sighed. 

"You are the expert. I will follow your advice." 

"I deeply appreciate it. Now, boys, get busy with this! And you, L, pray follow me." 

The tailor went on one side of the room, he pushed the clothes rails aside and put his hand on the wall, at the shelf's height. There was a fleur-de-lis flower made out of what looked like silver. He pulled it like a lever and Lucien heard a metallic click. 

"Boys! If you please…?" 

Richard's boys came back and opened the wall as if it was two doors. The gentlemen now stood in front of a corridor. 

"This will lead us to my more uhm, private, shop." 

Lucien nodded and followed Richard in while his sons closed the doors after them. If the decor of the shop was very traditional with wood and yellow lights, this secret part was much more modern. The walls were made out of white marble and the lights shone bright. Lucien could almost see his reflection on the white tiled floor. 

"Here we are." 

Richard opened a door and unveiled a room full of weapons. Revolvers, assault rifles, shotguns, sniper rifles. You name it, Richard has it. 

Lucien entered and had a look around. 

"These are all very modern I see."

"We try to keep our library up to date, indeed. Should you need other models, we can have them delivered within a day, sometimes less." 

"Any blades you might have?" Lucien asked. 

"In here…" 

Richard and Lucien went to a display case. 

"Ah…" 

"You are quite the traditional man, L."

"For my equipment, most definitely."

"And your suits too." Richard added. 

Lucien's eyes didn't leave the blades. He inspected them one by one, paying the closest attention to any detail. 

"I guess you are making those yourself. They are most definitely very beautiful. The work on the handles is quite unique."

"Indeed. I can also repair one or add a few features to it if you insist on keeping yours. Same for the guns. Most upgrades happen here but we sometimes send the guns to other places as we are not yet equipped with all the machinery necessary for them."

"I understand. May I have a look at the revolvers and pistols?" 

"But of course. If you would be so kind as to look behind you…?" 

Lucien obeyed and bent over another display case. 

"Any non-lethal ones?" 

"Those on display are lethal but I do have their non-lethal counterparts in store. Also, and given who you are, I will personally make sure that whatever piece of gear you get from us will be custom made and adjusted to your hands."

Lucien's eyebrows jumped. 

"That is most kind of you, Richard."

"It isn't everyday that one gets the privilege to work with you, L." 

"Bah, I am merely doing what must be done." 

"Quite so, quite so… I can leave you to have a closer look at the library in peace if you prefer?" 

"Non I think I have seen enough. Although, Richard, may I ask you something?"

"Anything, L, of course." 

"Let us go back to the shop first." 

"As you wish." 

In a minute or so, both men found themselves back on the armchairs, surrounded by the shelves of fabric. 

"Do you know this restaurant called The Queen Victoria?"

Richard nodded. 

"Yes, of course. The most sought after of all places here."

"I will need to go there shortly. May I order a few suits from you, for the occasion?" Lucien asked. 

"Please do. We have your measurements already so it shouldn't prove too hard although the red suit will be my priority." 

"Oh?"

"Once I finish it, I will have your taste and measurements in my fingers and it will be much easier for me to get to more stylish pieces." 

"Ah, I see."

"But tell me, I guess it will be for dinner?" Richard asked, pulling a notepad and a pen off his inner pocket.

"It is for business actually, but yes, it will be the evening. Also, I need to impress. I have the main things sorted out but if the suit could help, I will appreciate it greatly." Lucien added.

"I see…" Richard continued taking notes. "I have it all in mind. Anything else you want me to do for you?" 

"Oui, actually. Do you have any information on the target?" 

"A few, but I doubt it will be anything of value to you L."

"Pray tell."

"Fine. The gentleman you seek is rare to the sight of the general public. I am told that he likes his golf and his fine gastronomy. He has ladies like the pearls on a necklace and some of them we never hear from ever again…" 

"I see." Lucien frowned. "Any idea on his recent activity?"

"Non unfortunately…"

"Dad, Mister Black and his friends should be arriving any minute now to pick up their suits." 

"Oh, yes indeed, time flies! L, I will have to re-open the shop, anything else you needed?" 

Lucien shook his head. 

"I have heard and seen enough to get me started. Merci beaucoup, Richard." 

[Thank you very much, Richard.]

The tailor nodded and signalled his sons who pulled the curtains and opened the shop again. Lucien stood up and shook hands with his new acquaintance. 

"All the pleasure is mine, L." 

Richard accompanied his client back to the door. 

"How long should I wait for the suit?" 

"A few days. We shall let you know." 

"Good. Well, I wish you a good day, Richard." 

"And to you too, L. See you soon!"

The Frenchman nodded and exited the shop. He slipped in his car and drove back to Victoria's restaurant. He parked in front of it and went to sit at his usual table. Lucien didn't have to wait too long for the young lady to appear.

"L! You came back for lunch?"

"Indeed I have."

"So… Uhm… ¿Qué te gustaría?" She asked with her notepad in her hands.

[What would you like?]

"Ah, I see someone has done their homework…" Lucien smiled.

"Was that correct?" 

"Oui, not a mistake!"

"Haha!" Victoria laughed, triumphant. 

"And to answer you, lo que me gustaría es lo que te gustaría."

[What I would like is what you would like.]

"Ah, uh, ok, so, uhm… If I were you, I'd have uh… Hm…" 

She pouted and scratched her head with the back of her pen. 

"I know! Go for the roasted chicken and potatoes. It's a nice day, it'll go with it nicely. You can add mayonnaise too!"

Lucien laughed. 

"Fine, I will follow your recommendation but please, unless the mayonnaise is homemade, I would rather not have it."

"You're so posh…"

"I have standards, V, nothing more." 

"Yeah, yeah… And to drink? Let me guess, posh sparkling water?"

"Is there a posh edition?" Lucien taunted her. 

"Oh, you know what I mean!" 

"Indeed I do. Sorry, I was pulling your leg as you say in your language. But oui, tienes razón, I will have the sparkling water please." 

[You're right.]

"I know I'm right, I always am!" She arrogantly answered and Lucien rolled his eyes with a smile. "But L?"

"Hm?"

"D'you mind if I sit with you to have my lunch break?" 

"Non, of course, by all means." 

"Right, give me a few minutes then."

Lucien looked through the window and thanked the Lord that the sun had turned and was not hitting him directly. The Australian sun was much more aggressive than back in France. Victoria soon came back with a full tray. 

"Here we go, old man! Posh sparklin' water and chicken and potatoes!"

"And what will the young demoiselle have?"

[Lady]

"My usual, good old homemade sandwich!"

Victoria sat in front of the Frenchman.

"You call that a sandwich?"

"Oh alright, I'll go have my lunch in peace elsewhere…!" The young woman said as she dug in. 

"As if…" Lucien confidently answered. "Mh, the chicken is very good by the way." 

"Oi, why d'you say 'as if'?"

"Clearly you had your hopes up."

Victoria blushed. 

"You have waited for me to have your lunch."

She averted her gaze. 

"Don't be ashamed when it is the truth." 

"Hm…" 

She buried herself in her sandwich and the Frenchman chuckled softly. 

"I apologise, V. I didn't want to put you on the spot."

"It's alright…" 

Both ate their food and Lucien didn't dare say more. 

"L?"

"Oui?"

He raised his eyes to her. 

"D'you have any family?" 

Unfazed, he answered:

"A companion, only." 

"Oh, what's her name?"

His ice-blue eyes met her hazelnut ones. 

"Solitude." 

He smiled. 

"Oh… I'm sorry…" 

Lucien shrugged. 

"You really have no one? No parents, no kids, no…?"

His gaze impressed her. She didn't know if he was saying 'Do I look like I'm joking?' or 'I'm as sorry as you are'. It might have been none, or even both. 

"I-I'm sorry." 

Lucien wiped the corners of his mouth elegantly. 

"No reason to be. I prefer it that way." 

"Really? I-I mean, are you ok to talk about it?" 

"Of course, go ahead." 

Victoria frowned. 

"Don't you feel like… alone? Like, you're missin' someone even though you don't know who? You're just missing like a… presence?" 

The Frenchman let a half smile slip through his lips. 

"At the beginning, oui. Not anymore now." 

"What's changed?"

"What do you mean?" He asked. 

"How did you go from 'oh I'm lonely' to 'Bah, whatever'?"

"I accepted it." 

"Bullshit!" She answered and Lucien's eyebrows jumped. 

"Pardon?" 

"I don't have anyone either and it's impossible to not feel lonely! It's just not possible!"

"Non, Victoria. It is possible, you are just still too young, you have experiences to go through still before you hit that point."

"What point?"

"The point of no return. The point where the only emotions that your body are able to produce are contempt, pride and disdain; but not sadness, not heartbreak, not anymore."

Victoria had listened through and her eyebrows frowned further.

"Crikey… that sounds…" 

"Liberating." He said.

"Awful." She answered.

Silence fell for an instant. 

"Anyway." Lucien said and stood up. "I shall see you later. Don't wait for me for dinner."

He left what he owed on the table with a tip and left without adding a word. Victoria didn’t know what to make of her friend. Had she struck a nerve? No, he had seemed unfazed, he couldn’t have been moved by her words, or could he? 

On his drive back to his place, Lucien was brooding, the slight breeze of the air conditioner in his car barely enough to keep his mind cool. His brow was furrowed behind his sunglasses and his mind was set. He needed her to wrap her arms around him, he needed La Solitude to comfort him.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

[ivesblosson]

Bonding

Day 3 at @official-batfam-week : Injuries | Bonding During A Mission | No Capes/Civilian AU

Also on AO3

She groaned as she sat on the hard metal floor. The fluorescent light in her mask cast a strange aura around her face. Parts of her costume also shone in neon purple and the dim light was enough to let the others see her silhouette, especially since she was the only thing glowing in the darkness. “Great, now we are stuck here”, she mumbled for no one in specific. “Batman is going to be so pleased with us.”

The older boy couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s all your fault, blondie”, he grunted, pointlessly kicking the door that separated them from their freedom.

“My fault?”, Stephanie exclaimed raising up in a swift move. She rolled her eyes, despite knowing that Red Hood had no way of seeing it, and laughed. “He’s the one who locked us in here”, she yelled, pointing her gloved finger to the newest Robin, who was pacing around the old freezer trying to get a signal.

Damian stopped in the middle of a step, then turned back to stare at his partners with a death glare. “We would not have needed to hide if you hadn’t been so loud”, he said bitterly at the young girl.

“But I wouldn’t have yelped if he”, Steph gestured towards Jason, who tried to play it cool, casually leaning against a wall, “hadn’t poked me with a freaking gun!”

“I’m sorry you can’t take a joke”, he grunted, taking the pistol from it’s holster and flipping it in the air. “Just playing”, he said, flashing a devilish smile.

“You shouldn’t be playing with guns”, she replied, taking large steps in his direction and attempting to take the pistol from his hand.

“Relax, they are unloaded, see?”, he stated and fire against the ceiling. There was the noise of the trigger being flicked, but nothing came out of the barrel. 

On the other side of small room, Damian cleared his throat, causing the others to drop their discussion to look at him. “In case you have forgotten, we are here hiding. If you keep yelling, you’ll blow our cover.”

“Fine”, Steph muttered, grumply sliding back to the floor. She pulled back the purple hood of her cape, letting her blond hair flow freely and rested her head against one of the many boxes laying in the floor.

Jason followed her example and also sat down, removing his red helmet and revealing his jet black hair with a white streak. “If I were you,” he said to Damian, “I would sit down. No use trying to find a signal. we are five floors below street level.”

“Sitting there isn’t going to help either”, the boy hissed.

“Suit yourself,” Jason replied with a shrug. What the brat did was the least of his worries.

“You know, we are lucky the freezer isn’t a funcional one…”, Stephanie commented, lost in her thoughts. “What do you think they kept in here? Dead bodies? Horse meat? Cocaine?”

In that moment Jason wished he had brought a flashlight with him, just so Steph could see the expression in his face. “Why would you keep cocaine in a freezer?”

“I don’t know. To keep it icy?”, she sighed. “Do I look like I do cocaine?”

“No, honestly, you look like a mushroom girl. Especially since you are fucking glowing.”

“Firstly, don’t say the f-word, there’s a kid in here--”

“I’m thirteen. I’m not a kid”, Damian shouted.

“Second, it’s called emergency lights. My suit has strategically placed glow sticks that I can activate when needed”, Steph explained. 

“Call it what you want, they are ridiculous”, he pointed out.

She huffed. “At least I can see.”

“Yeah, and be seen by every criminal from Gotham to Metropolis.”

In silence she wondered if the idea was as stupid as he made it sound. She had been very proud of her invention, and the memory of how embarrassing the one time she accidently activated the neon lights in the middle of a stealth mission was still fresh in her mind. There’s no need for Jason to know about that, she thought. From the depths of the pockets on her cape, she took an old fidget spinner that glows neon green. She had bought it back in 2017, when everyone was playing with those and forgotten about it, luckly, she now had something to play while they waited for rescue. 

Damian, finally giving up his useless task, sat cross legged near Stephanie. “I finished my analysis. I’ve concluded that there’s no exit. The best course of action is to sit and wait for Batman to realize we have been gone for too long and come looking for us.”

“Then we are going to be here forever. Bruce won’t even notice that three soldiers of his army have gone missing, he’ll just replace us. Especially since we ain’t exactly his favorites”, Jason grunted, thinking about how Bruce had quickly forgotten about him the time he died and how soon Tim had taken the mantle of Robin.

“Shut up, Todd, you don’t get to talk about my father like that”, Damian snapped. “You are an ungrateful piece of shit.”

“And for what I should be grateful for, uh? All he did was get me killed.”

“Oh shut up, Jason. No one wants to hear you talk about Joker and that crowbar again”, Stephanie complained. Everyone had heard that story at least a hundred times. “Besides, you aren’t the only one left for dead”, she added, thinking about how she almost had met her own end in the hands of Black Mask.

Jason seemed to recall that too, as he murmured a half-hearted apology to her. Silence took hold of the freezer for what seemed a long time.

“It’s not his fault,” Damian whispered, making the others snap out of their thoughts. 

“What did you say?”, Stephanie inquired.

“I said it’s not his fault the two of you got killed. We knew what we were signing up for. The dangers that came with the job. And we still chose to do it, so we can’t blame Batman for what happens to us, it was our choices. And actions have consequences.”

Jason chuckled once more. “Seriously? I was 12. I wasn’t old enough to make a life changing choice. He knew that, he took advantage of that to mold us into his image.”

“He has a point, though. No one made you go to Egypt and get blow up --”

“Ethiopia…”, Jason corrected.

“Whatever. And no one made me go after Black Mask alone.”

“And start a city wide gang war”, Damian added.

“Gezz, thank you, Damian, good to know I can count on you to keep reminding me of my worst mistakes.”

“Can we stop with the first name basis? We are in patrol.”

“Right, sorry, Robin”, she corrected. “You know what? No wonder no one likes you. You come in out of nowhere, tries to kill Ti-- the former Robin many times, disrespects Nightwing and think of yourself being so superior. And then when someone tries to defend you, you act like a asshole!”

“Bullshit”, Damian yells, standing up revolted. “I never disrespected Grayson.”

“Stop with the first name basis? We are in patrol”, Jason mocked, imitating Damian’s accent.

“And it’s not like they like you either”, the younger boy continued, his voice cracking. He fought to keep the tears from falling and tried to regain his composure. “You are a screw up”, he pointed to Stephanie, who was sitting playing with her spinner, “and you are a killer”, he angrily shouted at Jason, who was juggling with his guns. Neither of them seemed affected by Damian’s words. It was almost as if they had been hearing the same thing every single day and the words had lost their impact.

“Look who’s calling me a killer…”

“Yeah, and I may make mistakes, but at least I got friends”, the blonde said, thinking of Cass, Barbara and Tim. “Not that you would know what that means”, she added in a whisper.

“Shut up! Shut up!”, Damian screamed, slamming his fists against the freezer’s walls. Now he couldn’t hide the fact he was crying. 

Slowly, Stephanie rose from the ground and walked towards him. Before he could react, she had him trapped in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that”, she said softly. She glanced back to Jason and mouthed for him to join them.

“Yeah, Robin, I’m really sorry”, Jason apologized joining the group hug.

They stayed that way, arms tangled together until Damian had stopped sobbing. He didn’t say anything, but the way his tiny arms clung tightly to Stephanie’s waist was enough to let her know he regretted the things he had said.

A loud pounding at the door startled them, making them pull away. 

“That’s it, they found us”, Steph whispered, rushing to get her mask in place. 

Jason nodded, picking his helmet from the floor and putting it back on. He stood near the door, guns pointed at the entrance. “Don’t worry, those two are loaded”, he said, smiling underneath his hood.

Damian prepared his fighting stick and Steph got in position. Another bang echoed in the chamber. And finally, the door was pulled outwards.

The three of them let out a collective sigh of relief at the sight.

“Kate”, Steph exclaimed, running to greet her.“I’m so glad you found us.”

“Yeah”, Batwoman replied, gently pushing Steph aside. “Now, do any of you care to explain how the hell did you get locked in a freezer?”

“It was totally not my fault”, three voices shouted simultaneously.

#batfamweek2020 #batfamily #red hood #spoiler #jason todd #stephanie brown #damian wayne #robin #mine #writing #dc

[robinskey]

Steve x Nancy’s Childhood Friend! Reader (pt 6)

Part One//Part Two//Part Three//Part Four//Part Five

A/N: Even if you haven’t read the rest of the series, you can totally read this part! It could pretty much be its own stand-alone one-shot. The series just adds a little more context.

If you have been reading the series, (yay! hi again!), you’ll notice that the formatting is different than usual. I started doing this part in bulleted points, but I decided to go with a more traditional format since this part of the story focuses on one main scene. It’s also a HECKING LONG part (at least for this series-it’s about 3K words), so I’m going to put it under the cut for anyone who doesn’t want to scroll through the whole thing.

Warnings: Swearing

Half an hour later, you and Steve are sitting in a little red booth and squinting at menus in the dim lighting of the diner. Posters and framed pictures line the teal walls, along with colorful neon signs and license plates from just about every state. Elvis Presley croons from the jukebox in the corner of the room. His voice mixes with the sound of feet shuffling across the black-and-white tile as servers bustle between tables. The tantalizing smell of juicy hamburgers lingers in the air, mingling with the sweet, fruity scent of the freshly-baked pie.

Your stomach growls in protest. If the waitress takes much longer to get to the table, you’re going to start slobbering all over the menu.

“What’s good here?” you ask casually.

It’s more of an attempt to make conversation than an actual question. At this point, you don’t care what it is, as long as you get food in your mouth ASAP. Fortunately, Steve assures you that “everything’s good here. You can’t go wrong.”

“Okay,” you say, laying the menu down on the table. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

Steve lowers his menu and raises his eyebrows.

“Are you sure about that? I can eat a lot of food.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“So can I, asshole.”

That was probably a little harsh.

But if anyone can take it, it’s Steve Harrington.

“Fine, fine,” he sighs.

Over his shoulder, a busty waitress makes her way toward your table.

“But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he says, then proceeds to order half of the items on the entire menu. “And the same for the lady.”

The waitress peers over the top of her cat-eye glasses at the boy in front of her.

“Now, you’re not about to order all this food and then skip out on the bill, are you, Harrington?”

“Now, Janet, have I ever cheated you or this fine establishment?”

The woman’s tight corkscrew curls bounce as she shakes her head gently, the whisper of a smile on her lips.

“Not that I know of. But you’re full of surprises, Steve,” she says, then directs a wink at you.

You’re still staring after Janet when Steve’s voice tears you from your thoughts.

“Don’t mind Janet. She’s a little loony,” Steve says with a roll of his eyes.

“How do you know her, anyway?” you ask, swirling the straw around the glass of water Janet’s just delivered.

“Oh, I’ve been coming here for years. My parents used to take me here after Little League games for a celebratory milkshake when my team won. That stopped around the age of ten, when I finally admitted to my dad that I didn’t actually like baseball, and my mom convinced him to let me quit,” he says, laughing despite himself. “My parents quit coming, but I eat here at least once a week.”

“Yeah?” You’re still staring into the glass as you add, “I guess you bring all the girls here, then, huh?”

“I don’t, actually. I brought Tommy H. and Carol here once, and all they did was complain about the jukebox because they’re assholes with no taste in music,” he says, and his matter-of-fact tone makes you laugh.

“I thought they were your friends?” you ask. You knew he hadn’t been hanging around them much lately, but you figured they still partied together, at the very least.

“Nah. Not anymore. To be perfectly honest with you, I shouldn’t have ever been friends with them,” he says. His tumultuous chocolate eyes meet yours for a microsecond before his gaze flickers to his own drink. “The only person worse than Tommy H. and Carol is ‘King Steve’ Harrington.”

“Was,” you correct him. He looks back up at you for clarification. “‘King Steve’ was the worst. But just because you were a piece of shit in high school doesn’t mean you have to be for the rest of your life. You can change as a person, evolve as a human being-in fact, I think you already have.”

Steve stares at you for several moments longer. His lips finally part, as if he’s about to speak, and-

“Hot stuff coming through!”

The steel kitchen doors swing shut behind Janet, who pushes a metal cart stacked with plates of steaming fried foods across the tile floor. To your surprise, she stops at your booth and unloads the contents of the entire cart onto your table. By the time she’s done, plates cover every square inch of the surface.

“Hope you’re hungry, sweets,” Janet says, throwing another wink your way before disappearing back into the kitchen.

You’re so overwhelmed by the mountain of food in front of you that you completely forget about the conversation you and Steve were just having. Thus, when you notice him still watching you,

you figure it’s because he’s smugly waiting for you to admit that you’ve made a mistake-that there’s no way in hell you can consume even half of this feast.

But you, being the ultra-competitive, incredibly stubborn person you are, refuse to accept defeat without putting up a fight.

“I bet I can eat more of this than you can.”

Steve simply blinks in disbelief.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can. I’ll prove it to you,” you say, picking up a fry and popping it into your mouth. “We can make a little competition out of it. And whoever loses has to pay for everything.”

You reach for another fry, but Steve swats your hand away.

“Stop it. You’re getting a head-start.”

“Oh, a two-fry head-start. Consider me the world’s biggest cheater,” you say, waving your hands in the air mockingly.

Steve uses this opportunity to grab a fistful of fries and shove them into his mouth.

“Hey! That’s not fair, jerk!”

“Fight me,” he says, the words muffled by the food.

You kick him under the table hard enough to give him a dead leg.

“Ow!” he yells, just loud enough to make an older couple at the next table shush you both. Steve glares at you.

“What? I thought we were playing street rules.”

“When have you played this game on the street, Y/N?”

“Shut up.”

It takes a whopping twenty-three minutes for the two of you to polish off the buffet of food. And by the two of you, I mean Steve. You tap out about ten minutes in, after devouring your third plate of greasy goodness. As much as you don’t want to foot the bill for this meal, you definitely don’t want to vomit all over the floor of Steve Harrington’s BMW.

Janet’s not nearly as impressed by Steve’s food feat as one would expect her to be when she returns to check on you. Apparently, this isn’t even the most Steve’s eaten in one sitting. Clearly, you were doomed from the start.

Janet even has the audacity to ask if either of you would like dessert.

You answer with a resounding “no.”

But Steve practically yells, “Hell yes!”

“Mr. Harrington! Language!” Janet says, tsking with her tongue. “What would your mother say?”

“Oh god. Please don’t tell her. She’s already on my ass about college-damn it, sorry! Wait, sorry again, sh-shoot.”

Janet laughs at her flustered customer.

“You want your usual?”

“Of course-”

“Now, wait a second,” you interrupt. “I’m cutting you off, Harrington. Unlike your stomach, my wallet isn’t a bottomless pit.”

A denim-clad knee bumps against yours under the table.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I got this.”

“But the bet-”

“-that I never even agreed to?” he says with a disarming smile that makes it impossible to argue.

“I’m lost. Am I getting you ice-cream or not, baby?” Janet asks.

“Yes, please, Janet. And the bill, whenever you get the chance, so I don’t have to bother you again. I know you’re swamped.”

Janet nods, still half-confused, and wanders into the kitchen.

You glance around the diner. Aside from a group of college students gathered around a corner booth and a couple sharing a banana split at a nearby table, the place is completely vacant.

“Swamped?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at Steve.

“Well, not exactly. But Janet...she takes her time. She’s one of those waitresses who will promise to ‘be right back with the bill’ and then disappear for an hour,” he explains. “I figured you probably have some sort of curfew, so it would be best to avoid that.”

“That was really considerate of you,” you say, and the shock in your tone is probably evident, but Steve doesn’t comment on it. “And speaking of considerate, thank you for paying for dinner. We could have split it or something.”

“Don’t worry about it. I ate most of the food, anyway,” he says. He pauses, then adds, “Besides, it’s a small price to pay to spend an evening with a pretty girl.” 

Thank goodness for the dimness of the lights hanging overhead, because your cheeks are as red as the scarlet booth you’re sitting on. At this point, you’re pretty sure he’s flirting with you. Then again, flirting is Steve Harrington’s main mode of communication, so it probably means nothing. 

You remind yourself of this enough times to finally get your blushing under control-until Janet returns with a tall strawberry milkshake with two bright red straws sticking out the top.

She drops it off at the table and tells you two “lovebirds” to enjoy. Steve’s too interested in the milkshake to notice your coyness. It isn’t until he’s drained a third of the glass that he realizes you haven’t had any.

“Aren’t you going to taste it, Y/N? I ordered the larger size for us to share.” 

“I didn’t want dessert, remember? That’s your milkshake.”

“There’s two straws for a reason.”

“Yeah,” you say, flicking yours toward him. “Use both, and maybe you can give yourself a brain freeze even faster.”

“Come on, Y/N. This is the best shake in town,” Steve pouts.

You swear the strawberry milkshake is turning his lips more pink.

“Fine,” you huff, leaning forward and taking a sip.

A stream of sugary yet slightly tart ice cream flows into your mouth. It’s one of the best things you’ve ever tasted. You’re so distracted by the deliciousness that you  don’t notice Steve bending down for a sip until his lips are curled around his straw, inches from yours. You jolt back so fast that you choke on milkshake. Steve watches with wide eyes as you cough violently into the fold of your arm for a few seconds. Finally, you get your cough attack under control, and Steve asks if you’re okay.

“Yeah,” you say, voice raspy, “it’s just-mm. Too...too sweet for me.”

“Really?” Steve asks, tilting his head slightly in confusion. Then he shrugs and says, “More for me, I guess.”

You watch with secret jealousy as Steve finishes off the glass.

You offer to leave the tip, but Steve insists on covering it.

“My dad would kill me if he knew I let a girl pay for anything.”

“Well, your dad’s not here. And besides, isn’t that a rule for, like, dates or whatever?”

“Not necessarily. It’s just a rule of chivalry.”

He lays a few extra dollars down on the table and gestures for you to lead the way out.

“Steve Harrington: Master of Chivalry,” you tease, elbowing him as you walk past.

On the drive home, Steve cranks the music up and the windows down. The two of you sing along to just about every song. When he doesn’t know the words, Steve makes up ridiculous lyrics that clash terribly with the melody.

You cackle with laughter almost the entire ride home. And when he pulls in your driveway, there’s a part of you that wants to stay in the car forever. You unbuckle your seatbelt, dial down the radio volume, and rotate in your seat to face Steve.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Me, too,” he says, beaming so bright that it seems to glow in the dark. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Yeah, we should.”

There’s a pregnant pause, interrupted only by crickets chirping in your yard and an owl hooting somewhere down the street. You look out the car window. Outside, stars are sprinkled across a velvet sky like sparkling confetti, but none shine as brightly as Steve’s eyes as he looks at you

Finally, Steve shatters the silence with a simple offer that comes out as more of a request:

“Can I walk you to your door?”

You can’t stop the giggle from escaping your lips.

“My porch is literally right there, Steve. Nobody’s going to jump out and murder me on my ten-foot trek to the front door.”

“You can never be too safe, Y/N,” he says with the most serious expression he can muster.

“Fine, dork. Walk me to my door,” you laugh.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t force your stomach to digest the butterflies currently swarming around in it.

After approximately eight steps, you’re on your porch, and that nagging feeling of I don’t want to leave you returns. Unfortunately, you know you can’t stay on your front porch forever, so you tell Steve “goodnight” and start to twist the doorknob

“Wait!”

“Yes?” you ask, hand still on the knob.

“Could we talk for a minute?”

“Yeah, of course,” you say. You gesture toward the porch swing.

As soon as the two of you are seated, Steve finds the planks of your porch fascinating. His eyes scan them as if there are letters carved into the wood. He speaks slowly, as though he’s reading those words.

“Do you...do you remember what you said earlier? About...the whole ‘King Steve’ thing?”

You rack your brain for a moment. You eventually recall the conversation at the diner that Janet’s appearance had cut short.

“I don’t remember my words verbatim,” you say, “but yes, I remember the gist of it.”

“You said that just because I was a piece of shit in high school doesn’t mean I have to be one for the rest of my life. You said I can grow and change as a person-that you think I already have changed,” he says. 

“I did,” you say, scooting slightly closer to Steve, “and I stand behind everything I said-except for that last little bit. I don’t think you’ve changed. I know you have.”

Finally, he turns to look at you. His eyes shine with years of regret.

“You really believe that?”

And suddenly, it’s not King Steve sitting on the porch swing on your house. It’s not the idiot who broke your best friend’s heart. It’s not Steve “the Hair” Harrington, whose mane is almost as high and mighty as his attitude.

It’s just Steve-a broken boy yearning to be better.

And that’s when you wrap your arms around his neck for the second time today. This time, you’re much more gentle. Steve only freezes for a millisecond before his arms twine around your waist. It’s been so long since someone’s held him like this, and Steve’s starved for physical contact, so he pulls your body flush against his. He buries his face into your neck as a single drop of water soaks through the sleeve of your shirt. One of your hands gravitates toward his hair; you comb your fingers through his soft curls soothingly.

You stay like that for several minutes, embracing the boy you could have sworn you hated two days ago. 

When the tears stop falling, Steve raises his head. His damp face shines in the moonlight. Before he can pull away, embarrassed by this show of emotion, you reach up and lay a palm on his cheek. You tenderly dry his face with the sleeve of your sweater, then press a kiss to his forehead. His eyelids flutter shut, and you can’t resist making your junior high fantasy come true by pressing another kiss to his mouth. Steve’s lips are as velvety as you imagined and even sweeter than you could have dreamed, thanks to the strawberry milkshake residue left behind.

Steve’s eyelids peel back as soon as you pull away. His eyes flicker between yours, focusing on one and then the other. Clearly, he’s panicking. He didn’t want to kiss you. And now-

Steve’s lips crash onto yours like a tidal wave. He tightens his hold on your waist, and you tangle both your hands in his hair. You both break away at the same time, breathless. Steve leans his forehead against yours. The two of you admire the stillness of the night.

“Bark! Bark! Bark!”

“I’m coming, Rufus. Mama’s going to let you out to potty.”

Steve leaps out of your embrace, nearly falling off the porch swing, as a light flickers on in your kitchen.The luminescence spills out of the window and onto the porch, darkened only by the silhouette of a woman in curlers.

“That’s my mom,” you hiss at Steve. “You gotta go.”

Steve pecks the top of your head, then sprints to his car. He peels out of the driveway and takes off down the road as your mother swings open the front door. The family dog trots out and onto the lawn to do his business. Mom squints at you, and you offer a tiny wave.

“Y/N? Is that you? I didn’t realize you were home.”

“Yeah, it’s me. I haven’t been here long. I was just-looking for constellations,” you say, pointing to what you think might be the Big Dipper.

Your mother narrows her eyes at the sky. But considering she can barely recognize her own daughter’s face a few feet away, you know the bodies of gas in the sky, light-years away, are all a blur to her naked eye. 

“Did you have a good time tonight?” she asks.

“I did,” you answer, standing and brushing off your jeans. “I really did.”

“Good,” she says, then grimaces. “It wasn’t your boyfriend who made that god-awful screeching tire noise a few minutes ago, was it?”

Her question’s annoying, sure, but you can’t keep the smile off your face as you say, “No, it wasn’t.” 

Technically, it was his car. 

“And he’s not my boyfriend, Mom.”

Not yet, anyway.

A/N 2: So that’s that! I think this is a pretty good stopping place for the series, but if you guys want more parts to it, I could probably do a few more. I love you all. Thanks for reading. :)

Taglist: @novaddictx  @irreplaceable-ecstasy @swiftxdreams @ahoycapnsteve @write-from-the-heart @yllwtaxi @httpakasha @asheseiler @broadwayandnetflix @readinthegarden12 @yessii-i 

If you want to be added to the tag list for this series/my writing in general, leave a reply or send me a message! Thanks again for reading. <3

If you want to read more of my fics, here’s my masterlist. :)

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve stranger things #stranger things steve x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #nancys childhood friend series #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler x reader #nancy wheeler x friend! reader #steve harringto #steve harring #steve harringt #ok im out of tags #parker-potter writes

[trashpandaorigins]

The Body Keeps the Score Ch. 15 Where We’re Going Where We’ve Been

You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain*

Title of this fic is taken from the book of the same title "The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma," by Bessel van der Kolk

Daughters sharpen their knives and they hunt for food, others watch their children grow

Mothers going to work, and they shake the hands of a corporate tycoon's ghost

And I'm afraid, ah, I'm so afraid

Ah, what if I lose?, is what I think to myself

I'm finding my shell, I’m afraid of it all, afraid of loving you

So Afraid - Janelle Monae

Back in the beginning when she and the others were newly taken, when they were still themselves, Gamora, Proxima, Nebula and the others dreamt of escaping. Each attempt was futile of course. No matter how strategic Proxima tried to be, no matter how thorough Gamora had surveyed the guards and goons. They were caught. On the eleventh and last attempt they’d been so close. Proxima was getting the stolen ship ready for takeoff, it was Gamora who insisted on waiting for their youngest sister. And when the cyborg girl-more her own flesh then metal at this point-finally had appeared, it was with Thanos. She had told him of their escape plan. That was the first time she had tasted the bitterness of betrayal.

Even now, walking the streets of Tarque with Peter, Drax and Groot she kept a lookout for Nebula. One hand on her sword, the other swinging by her side, ready to reach out and seize anyone who dared come close.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Peter whispered as they walked. His warm breath against her ear tickled, making her stomach flit pleasantly for a moment. “We’ll find some way to explain this to the Nova Corps, there must be a mistake.” Gamora only bit her lip, to have an ounce of Peter’s laid back attitude. I envy it. She forced a nod, maybe it would be okay. Maybe. Probably not.

“We killed their officers and destroyed their ships!”

She whispered back, inching just close enough to him.

“Yeah, well... I mean…”

His voice drifted off.

“Awe crap,”

“What is it?” Drax asked, turning to the two of them.

“Nah, it’s just that I wanted to look over which planets in the Keystone quadrant had Nova Corps bases but I left the little thingy back on the ship.”

“I’ll go,” Gamora immediately volunteered. She needed to clear her head, get some space.

“Gamora, are you sure you want to be walking around alone after our recent battle?” Drax asked, a concerned kindness she almost never saw from the man. She grinned, appreciatively.

“Thank you Drax, but I”ll be fine.”

The destroyer’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded after a time, conceding.

Gamora left the three of them, making down the winding thoroughfare back to the Benatar. Eyes scanning every which way for any sign of trouble.

The Nova Corps would know of the fight by now. They’ll notice that three ships did not come back and none of the officers….they’ll come after us. Kill us. Capture me. The thought of another cage made her heart quake with dread. Thanos, Nova Corps. A prison was a prison. She walked on, darting between people, examining them for any concealed weapons or motives. Tarque was small, but no less reassuring. Gamora looked behind her, every several feet, checking the alleys and shadowy corners. Looking up into the buildings and the ships that flew low above the streets. If she were here Nebula could be hiding anywhere, and so could Nova Corps agents.

Under arrest for endangering my crew? Preventing further harm to planets and peoples? I didn’t endanger anyone…. her mind rolled through the list of decisions, and arguments, and recent actions in the past few turns.Finally out of the throngs of people the orange, blue chrome of the Benatar stood out. Gamora breathed a sigh of relief.

She looked around her once more, palms sweaty. Jogging forward Gamora quickly punched in the codes and ran up the ramp of the ship, sealing the doors shut.

Calm down, breathe. In...out...you’re in the ship, which has more security systems in place than most prisons.

Still she did not let her guard down, peering around each corner and down every hallway towards Peter’s quarters.

Something creaked, Gamora’s heart spasmed a moment, instantly pulling out her sword instantly expecting some enemy.  Right, left….above...down.. something blinked:

Rocket’s data pad. That should have plenty of maps on it.

She picked it up fiddling with the thing. Something blinked, a hologram appearing on the screen.

“Incoming Message: Officer Vakrien of the Nova Corps.”

Her stomach dropped, knees swaying.

No….no he wouldn’t….not after everything they’d gone through. Even someone as selfish and greedy for units wouldn’t...  

Gamora selected the icon. The image of a helmeted Nova Officer appeared, reciting a pre-recorded message.

“Subject 89P13, your intelligence has proven most valuable. We are on our way to you now to apprehend Gamora. We appreciate your cooperation. We are transferring another  60,00000.00 units to you.. However, if your crew or yourself should attempt to hinder our arrest you will also be arrested. We look forward to your continued cooperation.”

The message ended with a static, the hologram of the officer going fuzzy and clicking off showing the blank screen.

He did….he... she swallowed, mouth dry. Her stomach turned with discontent. The wires beneath her flesh pricked and stung. The very arm which he’d taken such good care of now trembled. How dare he......after everything… Gamora gripped the data pad tightly, stuffing it into her pack. He healed me….he...cared…no. Thanos said he cared too, Thanos would heal her wounds occasionally, speaking sweetly as he did to comfort her, reassure her. Only to laugh as she was tested the following day. She warred with herself conjuring the image of Rocket dexterously fixing her wounds. The oddly soft way he’d spoken to her. Thanos whispered nice things too. Made me believe he loved me…. the memories of it threatened to drown her. She stormed off the ship. That miserable….rat! No, he’s not a rat. But... I thought he changed. No he hadn’t and she was fool enough to believe it.

Rage simmered, rushing into the place of raw sorrow and dejection. Betrayal. I trusted him…. she thought painfully.

Then, even worse the realization dawned on her:....... he was my friend.

She sniffed,  straightened and tightened her grip on her sword. Where is he? She bypassed the main street, slipping down alleyways. No wonder the treacherous rodent slunk away as soon as we landed. She walked with purpose, peeking into every bar window.

“How could I have been so stupid?”

How long had he been feeding the information? Since they left Xandar? Since they’d broken out of the Kyln?

“Evmon’s,” Gamora spotted the glowing sign across the way and dashed towards it, looking through the dirty window. There he is, the image of the raccoonoid illicit  an all consuming fury in her chest, weeping out of  the hurt and vulnerability. She pushed open the door, ready for yet another battle.

“You,”

Rocket turned slowly in his stupor. Already reeking and blinking slowly.

“You betrayed me to the Nova Corps!”

The words tumbled out, bubbling up from the place of self-loathing and hatred Thanos had so keenly exploited. Gamora shouted down at him, miserable wretch.

“Star-Shit?” He mocked cruelly, those foreign animal orbs eyeing her. He could see through her, into the feelings she harbored for Peter, he was trying to exploit them.

“Groot,” she corrected.

Make him hurt. He’s a monster….like Thanos and he manipulated you just like Thanos did. You fell for it. After all this time you fell for it.

“ I thought...we were a family after that. That we could be something better. Groot taught me that.”

It was true after all. The large flora had sacrificed himself for all of them, her and Rocket included. Though she’d hardly ever done anything to warrant such a selfless act. The longest she and Groot had ever interacted was when she’d lopped his limbs off.

I never apologized for that, she realized. But in this instance of hurt and betrayal she twisted that guilt back, spouting it upon Rocket.

“I guess his death wasn’t worth much after all. Not to you anyway.”  The words were out of her mouth before she could stop it. The drunk ringtail flinched, alien eyes narrowed.

“You were right Rocket. You are a monster. I’m sorry Groot didn’t realize that sooner. It would’ve saved him if he had.” The grief of it made her voice crack. The raccoonoid was not the only one who missed that calming, innocent, stable presence amid a very unstable life.

Rocket inhaled sharply, his bottom lip quivering. Something beamed within her, satisfied at his hurt. Good, she mused inwardly. He’d hurt her, terribly. But Gamora was never one to succumb to a blow. Oh no, she resolved, she’d beat him back and hit twice as hard because that was the only thing that had ever kept her alive.

“Your heart. You have none. The only thing that's there is a cybernetic pump. No different then this tap,”

The ringtail spluttered for words, mouth agape. His usual blustery demeanor now diminished. Wounded.

“Shut up! You don’t know what the flark your talking about!” He tried to defend, but it was no good. Gamora huffed, eyes wild.

“I saw the scans Rocket. You had them saved on your data pad. You want to know what was in there? A metal pump with wiring connected to your main circulatory system. There’s no heart. Just a machine.”

 The lie was out of her before she could stop it. Of course she’d seen a passing file on the data pad labeled “89P13,” assuming it contained images of Rocket’s past but she hadn’t opened it. She fumed but the traitor in front of her didn’t seem to notice the lie. His own pain turning to anger as quickly as her own.

“Shut up! You're no better than Thanos!”

It was her turn to look struck, though she should’ve anticipated it from someone so defensive as Rocket. I am nothing like Thanos.  The ringtail of all people should know, how hard it was to separate yourself from your creator. His words cut deep, to the bone.

Enough of this,

She snatched him up by the back of his head, depositing him out on the street.

“When we get back to the ship, I’m telling the rest of them what you’ve done,”  she stated. Rocket quaked, trying to gather himself up.

“N...no!” He slurred, giving her one last nasty snarl. She shrugged, not bothering to indulge his tantrum.

Gamora stalked away, back into the crowds. Better to be attacked by a stranger then someone you know.

She found Drax, Peter and Groot shortly, following the little flora’s incessant “I am Groot-ing”

“Gams!” Peter grinned across the way, opening his arms for a hug. “There you are! You got the maps?”

She allowed herself to be wrapped in his arms, if only for a moment. Safe, comfortable. Too safe. Too comfortable. She pulled away, revealing Rocket’s data pad from her bag.

Predictably the raccoonoid indeed have an interactive map of all Nova Corps bases not only in the Keystone Quadrant but every quadrant in the known galaxy. Intel on their total numbers, codes to several of their files included their most wanted list and their registry of bounty hunters in their employ, of which he himself was still registered.

Peter’s words of assurance did little to calm her nerves. Her mind inwardly toiling with mixed emotions of fury and raw hurt peppered now and again by occasional guilt.

I should not have lied about the scans.

“Okay so good news is there’s no Nova base on Tarque!” Peter exclaimed happily. We’ll head back to the ship and go from there. I’ll transmit a message to Danarian Dey, let him know it was honestly our bad for killing those guys and we’ll smooth things over, how’s that sound?”

How Gamora wished she could believe him, wanted to allow herself that peace of mind. His efforts to make things better were heartening. But she could hardly reciprocate, not with the drip drip drop of Rocket’s betrayal eating away at her like acid.

I have to tell him, she looked up again at Peter’s bright eyes. In the moment Gamora managed a nod, and a smile as they turned and headed back to the Benatar.

“I am Groot?”

“I’m sure our furry friend will catch up to us,” Drax assured the little flora with a pat on the back.  

“I AM Groo!!” Gamora swallowed the irritation of Groot’s cries.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go get him,” Peter offered, turning to her as if for permission. This time she could not bring herself to nod or smile, but motioned for Drax and Groot to follow her. She watched Peter taper off through the streets, the air of momentary levity gone with him.

---

Gamora retreated to her quarters as soon as they made it back on the ship. She needed to hide, to get away and be gone from all of them.

Nova Officers would come after them again. They would not give up the hunt, they were ruthless in their prosecution. I got into this mess, by trusting. By thinking that vermin was capable of friendship.

She practiced with her blade the remainder of the evening, swinging and slicing, turning her animosity into something productive, something that could serve her.

“Again Gamora,”

Thanos words toyed with her mind. She thrust forward, stabbing the target with the tip of her sword.

“You will have to do better than that,” and then he’d sigh, or shake his head and gesture for Ebony Maw to take her, for another session of procedures, for more modifications.

“No!” She screamed, twisting and slicing again.

“G...Gamora?”

Peter.

She tried to steady her breath, wiping her head with the back of her arm and wiped her blade; putting it away before she opened the doors to her quarters.

“You look...good,” he tried awkwardly.

“I’m covered in sweat,” she laughed, this time genuine.

“Yeah well...I just mean...you...you look….like, ready for battle.”

She stepped aside allowing him to enter. He looked around awkwardly, anywhere but her.

“You don’t have a lot of stuff in here,” he noticed.

“I don’t have a lot of stuff anywhere. Thanos allowed us no possessions but our choice weapons and I didn’t exactly catch the orb on Xandar thinking I’d join this….this…” she gestured with her hands. Peter’s eyes shifted around, considering, then finally landed on her again.

“I’m sorry Gamora, I didn’t mean…”

“It was Rocket.”

She picked up a weight on the ground and lifted it with ease, focusing on taunt muscle and the sweet burn of her body pushing itself.

“W...what do you mean?”

She put the weight down, with more force than necessary and sat on her bunk, hands gripping the metal rim of it. Body tense and rigid with exertion.

“It was Rocket who sold me out to the Nova Corps.”

Peter blinked, fumbling for a moment and finally sat down beside her. She watched his arm move out of the corner of her eye, almost making to place it around her but stopped, placing it back in his lap.

“He wouldn’t. I mean, he’s bad. But he’s not that bad. He wouldn’t do that to any of us. Say what you want about him. He’s not a snitch and you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Gamora smiled, tentatively placing her hand on his. Large and warm and always open. He squeezed it but made no further motion, stars knew how grateful she was for that.

“Do you still have his data pad?”

Peter nodded it, pulling it out. Gamora found the messages easily and tapped the one from Officer Vakrien. The message played, but she hardly heard, staring down into the floor and curling her fingers around the metal rim of her bunk. That inexorable rage rose in her again, she almost wished the raccoonoid was here.  Her attention moved back to Peter, watching him take it in. His eyes widened, listening then set his lips in a firm line, brow furrowed. The recording clicked off.

“That little…..” the man’s eyes searched for a while, Gamora could only imagine the various scenarios playing out in his mind. Finally Peter’s look softened. 

“....what do you want to do about it?” Gamora huffed, flopping backward uncharacteristically laid back down on her cot, staring up at the chrome ceiling of her small room.

“I confronted him,” she sussed out. “Back on Tarque, I….what’s the expression, let him have it?”

Peter laughed, laying down sideways next to her, one arm propping his head up so he looked down at her with ….admiration? Sympathy? Understanding? Longing? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“I lied to him,” she finally muttered, redirecting her gaze upward. “Told him I looked at the scans on the file he must’ve stolen of himself.” Peter’s face twisted in confusion but he let her continue, leaning only slightly closer, listening. 

“He told me once, he doesn’t know what his creators did to him. If they replaced his flesh and blood heart with metal machinery like nearly everything else.” She took a deep breath, “It eats at him. I can tell.” The same way it eats at me.  After all, Ebony Maw did much more than simple enhancements for fighting. They were both, as it were, built to be weapons. She shivered. Peter reached out, gently rubbing the ball of her shoulder. Gamora only stiffened once but found herself relaxing under his coaxing touch. He withdrew after a moment.

“But….so what?”

She frowned.

“So what if he has a flesh and blood heart or not? What he did was heartless. He acted heartless and my mom always said actions speak louder than words. Or...I guess...body parts in this case? Man...that’s..weird...but...I guess taken out of context..”

“What’s your point Peter?” She nudged, hopefully not unkind.

“My point, ooof yeah my point is,” he flopped the reset of the way down beside her on the bed, the two of them laying just close enough that she could feel his warmth. I could lean into it...it’d be so nice and safe….relaxing. Peter wouldn’t hurt me. Wouldn’t betray my trust. Maybe he’s the only one who wouldn’t. No….no he could just as well. You felt safe when Rocket was holding your hand in the forest, you felt comfortable when he was checking out your wounds in the common area...Peter is no different. You can’t. You’ve already let your guard down once. Do not do it again. Do not do it again little one. Thanos taunts echoed from the back of her head. She bit back the anxiety, focussing on Peter’s words.

“It doesn’t matter even if he does have a literal heart. Or a machine, whatever is in there certainly isn’t making him into some altruistic hero. He...he betrayed you, he lashed out at Groot, he’s nothing but mean and unforgiving to all of us...he’s acting heartless. And besides, you could be right. They could have replaced a little raccoon heart with something more...uhh...advanced. I mean everything under his skin is probably cybernetic. In all likelihood you’re right. But it doesn’t even matter.”

Gamora nodded, considering. He had a point. A good one. One that was assuring and placated, at least for a moment her guilt at lying.

“You know,” he continued with that impish tone she’d come to recognize as ‘I have an idea. It’s probably not a good one and you’ll never agree to it but I’m going to say it on the off chance you do agree.’She decided to humor him this one time. “We could find out the truth,” he moved his fingers across the data pad, clicking open several files until he reached the one labeled 89P13.  Gamora slapped his hand away,

“That’s private, we shouldn’t.”

“Awe co’mon now I’m really curious!”

“No Peter,” she repeated, though less stern. “I may have been unsure about the truth but that isn’t ours to discover. If Rocket really wanted to know the answer to that question, he would’ve looked at his own scans by now. He hasn’t done that because he knows the truth. He’s a hardened little monster,” she spat. Even Peter flinched this time but did not leave her.

“Well,” he began slowly, putting the pad down on the bed behind him. “I did just see Rocket off. He went somewhere in our last escape pod.”

“What?!” Gamora sat upright,

“Yeah, he didn’t say where he was going just that...I’m to take care of Groot if he doesn’t come back in a bit and...he told me to...tell you that he’s sorry. Wow this makes so much more sense now that I know he was snitching on you and got chewed out for it.”

“Any idea where he went?”

“No,” Peter sat up beside her. “But we can find out. He took the only other escape pod after Nebula grabbed the first one….we really need to start putting some security procedures and locks on those things.”

“The Nova Corps may have already  caught up to him,” Gamora thought aloud. “If he’s caught by the Nova Corps he’ll tell them where we are.”

“...you think he’d do that?” Peter broached slowly. Gamora raised a brow skeptically. The man nodded, reluctant.

The woman reached up, running a hand through her hair.

“How could I have been so stupid? You think running from Thanos and Nebula would teach me a lesson,” she shook her head pursing her lips.

“What lesson?” Peter asked gently, he stood up, coming to her slowly, tentatively as if waiting for her to swat him away. She eyed him carefully, planting her hands on her hips, pacing.

“Trust,” she answered curtly.

Peter looked at her with sympathy, his hands gingerly touching her wrists. He stood close, the scent of leather and fuel and maybe some sweet rellian candies lingering on his body and breath. Gamora clenched her jaw, willing herself not to blush, not to feel at ease, not to lean into him.

“When I was with Yondu as a kid, man, I couldn’t trust anyone, especially not the blue bastard himself. I used to hide in the storage or up in the ventilators in fear of being eaten, or beaten or dragged into some dangerous scheme,” he spoke with unbelievable ease. “...after a while the only person I trusted was myself. But….for what it’s worth, I trust you.”

She glanced up at him sharply, her eyes softened. She took his hands, and allowed him to rub her arms. He smiled, sadly this time, bittersweet.

“You do?” She whispered.

“Yeah, Gamora, I do.”

He inched towards her, face close to her, their noses almost touched. Lingering in that space just before intimacy, so close. Gamora yearned for it, closing her eyes. She was not about to kiss this human on Knowhere, not even with his music in her ears and the shimmering celestial stars all around them-but here….on this ship, now...maybe, just maybe she could…

“Quill! Gamora!”

Drax’s shout from the other side of the door shattered their moment. Gamora’s heart sank as she stepped back. Peter pressed his lips into a thin line, closing his eyes,

“What is it Drax?”

“If you two are not engaging in intercourse I have a plan for how we may seek out and destroy this traitor.”

Gamora gave Peter one last grin, opening the door to her quarters.

The large tattooed man looked between them in confusion.

“So you are not having a sexual encounter?”

“No man of course not!”

“Oh….that is too bad. You would make a handsome pair. “

“What was your point Drax?”

“Well, I have been thinking about this treacherous fiend. I say that we go back to every planet and place we have been since Xandar and destroy anyone we came in contact with if they do not agree to tell us the truth.”

“Drax I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Gamora reasoned.

Do I tell Drax? There will be no hope for him and Rocket if I do, with one so honor bound as him.

“Drax, where’s Groot?” Peter wondered all of a sudden concerned with the well being of the sapling.

“Oh,” the Destroyer looked over each shoulder, then to the ground and frowned. “I do not know where the small dumb tree went. He was annoying me so I went to find you.”

Peter grumbled something, shaking his head and leaving to go find the little flora; not before throwing Gamora one last sympathetic look. She returned it, waving for him to find Groot.

“Gamora,” Drax rumbled.

She stopped, going rigid for a moment glancing at her swords laying nearby.

“I just want to assure you, it was not me who was selling you out to the Nova Corps. I would never betray my friends that way.”

“Thank you Drax.”

“I would very much like to disembowel the honorless traitor myself. But, I will restrain myself. When we find them, I would be honored to watch you laugh as they screamed. And marvel as you bathe in their blood.”

“.....Thank you Drax,” Gamora placed a hand on his large shoulder, the skin raised and taunt, rippling with tattoos. He returned the gesture comfortably with a bubbling beaming smile she had not seen outside of fighting. Warmth crept into her chest, different from that she felt with Peter and different from...the friendship she had felt when she took Rocket’s hand. But still budding and strong with potential.

“Guys,” Peter called. Drax and Gamora took off down the hall towards his voice. “I found Groot!”

They came on to the flight deck of the Benatar, Peter crouching over Groot who was playing with the controls of the two escape pods.

“I found Groot….and Rocket.”

Gamora looked at the screen, used for tracking the pods. A crude map of the Keystone Quadrant with a blinking blue dot shown in the fourth sector, drifting further away. She scrutinized the screen, another set of blinking catching her eyes. The second pod, Nebula.  Her escape pod was flying just inside the third sector. The realization dawned on her slowly, anger returning anew.

“Peter,” she whispered, “I know where Rocket’s going.”

#my writing #the body keeps the score fic #starmora #gamora #drax #drax the destroyer #peter quill #starlord #groot #baby groot #rocket raccoon #gotg fanfiction #Guardians of the Galaxy #guardians of the galaxy fanfic #nebula

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Please more of artist Jamie!!! So beautiful!

Follow up to this story

--

January 1976

 Elias Pound had known Mandy MacKenzie for all of fourmonths – but he already knew he’d gladly follow her anywhere.

 So when she proposed they spend an evening at a downtownart gallery – in a neighborhood she called SoHo (“But we have one of those inLondon,” he had protested – and she’d replied “This one has a capitalized H,silly goose”) – he immediately leapt at the chance to be with her. Even if itmeant following her on the subway (“Don’t you have one of those in London?” shehad teased), gaping at the half-beautiful, half-terrifying graffiti scrawledover the walls and seats and windows and exterior of the cars, stepping around thegarbage and panhandlers on the platform at Times Square and Grand Central whenthey transferred from the 1 to the Shuttle and then to the 6.

 Once above ground at Spring Street, he thought she’d madea mistake – for the neighborhood appeared to be stone dead, even at arelatively early hour.

 “Where is everybody?” Elias dug his hands into thepockets of his peacoat, pulse rocketing from a mix of fear and sheer joy asMandy slipped her mitten-clad hand through his arm.

 “Barely anyone lives down here,” she explained, lookingboth ways before stepping off the curb. “It’s mostly artists and galleries.They love the big old buildings – fantastic twenty-foot ceilings in the rooms.”

 A cab appeared out of nowhere, horn blaring. Mandy tuggedhis arm to stop – and the cab squealed by, the driver hurling obscenities.Calmly Mandy kept walking down Broadway, turning right onto Prince Street.

 “And how did you find out about this exhibit?”

 His eyes darted over to her; she just smiled and keptwalking.

 “Here we are!”

 And they were – for in the first sign of life since they’dleft the subway, a line snaked out of an industrial metal doorway and aroundthe corner. Elias could only see a tiny sign above the door – The Broch Gallery – and a burly man outfront, clearly the security guard.

 Elias steeled himself to wait outside in the cold –regretting he hadn’t brought his knit cap – but then Mandy marched right up tothe man at the door.

 “Hi – I’m Mandy MacKenzie,” she explained. “Elias here ismy guest. I should be on the list.”

 The man fished in his pocket and produced an index card;he squinted, looked up at Mandy, and nodded. “All set, miss. Coat check is onyour left.”

 “Thank you,” she smiled sweetly, taking Elias’ hand anddrawing him inside.

 A woman wearing black took their coats and handed themeach a small booklet. Before Elias could even glance at the cover, they turned anothercorner and came face-to-face with a panel of text on a gallery wall.

 JAMES FRASER: ART WITHOUT LIMIT, 1920-1975 – A RETROSPECTIVE

 Elias could see several dozen people milling around in atleast six adjacent galleries, sipping champagne, studying the walls intently.

 “Who’s James Fraser?” he whispered.

 Mandy looped her arm through his. “Someone I’ve admiredmy whole life. You’ll see why. Don’t bother reading the labels – I’ll be yourtour guide.”

 And she was.

 The first gallery displayed small pastels and watercolorsof New York City street scenes in the 1920s – old cars rumbling down widestreets, women in elegant dresses pushing old-fashioned baby carriages onsidewalks, children playing tag on a gorgeous summer day in Prospect Park, ruddy-facedmen toasting their joy in cavernous long-gone beer halls.

 These were interspersed with photographs. A combinationof society portraits and even more street scenes.

 “Is that the Flatiron Building?”

 “It is. Can you believe that it wasn’t yet twenty years oldwhen this photograph was taken? Even then it was still so controversial.”

 Elias tilted his head at a series of three of formal,posed paintings of different women. “Who were they?”

 “Wives of wealthy businessmen and lawyers.” Mandy noddeda thank-you to the woman who offered a tray of snacks. “He made a good livingas a portraitist. Back in the day, that was a way for men to show how muchmoney they had – by paying an artist to paint their wives. Even after photographybecame popular – they still insisted on it.”

 Elias chewed thoughtfully. “I’d think it still is a wayfor men to show how much money they have. Someone I went to school with – I rememberthere was a painting of his mother in the house. I never quite understood it.”

 Mandy led them to the next room – and Elias’ jaw justabout dropped.

 It was another portrait – but so radically different fromwhat he had just seen.

 A beautiful woman – her curly brown hair rioting aroundher ethereal face – wearing a dress that could only be described as anincredible shade of electric blue. Surrounded by sumptuous plants andblue-and-white Chinese porcelain. Strongly, confidently facing the viewer – a hintof mischief evident on her perfect lips.

 “It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Mandy squeezed his hand. “Thiswas the first work that truly got him noticed.”

 “I should think so,” Elias breathed. “She’s – she’s so alive. So much more alive and presentthan in what we saw in the other room.”

 “The artistry is without comparison,” Mandy agreed. “But thescandal that surrounded the painting made it even more notorious.”

 “Scandal? What scandal? It’s a modest dress.”

 She shook her head. “This portrait was commissioned byFrank Randall, on the occasion of his wife Claire’s thirtieth birthday, in thefall of 1925.”

 “Frank Randall? As in Randall Steel? That Randall?”

 “The same,” she grinned. “Anyway – Claire Randall wasvery famous in New York society at the time for throwing very grand parties attheir townhouse on East Sixty-Eighth Street. Somehow James Fraser got aninvitation to one of their parties – and once Frank learned he was an artist,he commissioned him to paint Claire.”

 “I don’t see what’s so scandalous about that.”

 Mandy smirked above her flute of champagne. “Well – you canimagine that Claire got to know the artist quite well as he painted herportrait. So well that when the painting was delivered to the Randalltownhouse, she told Frank she was leaving him, packed her bags, and moved inwith Jamie.”

 “Oh my God!” Elias exclaimed. “Did she take the portraitwith her?”

 “Of course! It hung in Jamie’s studio on East TwelfthStreet for many years.”

 “And did they stay together?”

 Mandy set down her empty flute on a passing waiter’s tray,and took Elias’ half-empty flute. “See for yourself.”

 The next gallery was full of Claire Randall. Oilpaintings of her draped in a Japanese kimono. Pastel drawings of her reclining nudein bed, surrounded by rumpled sheets. Striking, black-and-white photographs ofher hands forming different shapes, and the curve of her spine, and the back ofher neck.

 “She was his muse,” Elias murmured.

 Mandy nodded. “My favorite is right over there.”

 It was a small photograph – just about as big as aletter-sized sheet of paper. At the bottom right of the frame was a reflectionof the old-style camera; at the middle of the frame was Claire caught mid-laugh;and peeking over her shoulder was a man – hair parted down one side, eyescreasing with laughter.

 “It’s called Joy;he took the photograph on their wedding day,” Mandy whispered. “In a publicbathroom at City Hall. Probably ten minutes after they exchanged vows.”

 Elias swallowed, his heart soaring at the explosion oflove and adoration captured so simply and elegantly in the photograph.

 “I’m surprised Randall gave her a divorce.”

 “Apparently she threatened to go to the papers with proofof all his affairs. My understanding is that it was settled quite quickly.”

 He wanted to know more – so very much more – but sheushered him into the next gallery.

 Here the artist’s style had clearly matured; thecityscapes were bolder in outline, brighter in their use of color.

 “He immigrated from Scotland as a very young man. But NewYork City has always been his home. His art documents what it’s like to livehere.”

 It did – subways, and buses, and even photographs ofairplanes landing at Kennedy or LaGuardia. Interspersed with photographs ofClaire as she got older – still smiling, now in color – in what appeared to bethe same East Twelfth Street studio.

 Before he knew it, they were in the last gallery. Whichheld a single artwork – another painting of Claire, posed almost identically asshe had been in the scandalous portrait. Surrounded by ferns, and Chineseporcelain; wearing another electric blue dress. Her face had more wrinkles, andher hair was gray – but she was still so vibrantly alive.

 Mandy withdrew her arm, but he didn’t realize she hadcompletely left his side until an unfamiliar voice spoke beside him.

 “Personally I prefer this one to the older one.”

 “I’d have to agree,” Elias remarked, turning to his newneighbor. “In fact – ”

 He froze.

 “It’s you,” he croaked.

 Claire Fraser – hair still curly after all these years,wearing a bright green dress and gorgeous silver jewelry – smiled.

 “It’s me,” she agreed. “Jamie painted this one to commemoratemy eightieth birthday last October – and, of course, the fiftieth anniversarysince the first one.”

 “Oh my God,” Elias breathed. “I – you – um, you are verybeautiful.”

 Then Mandy appeared, and slung an arm around Claire’sside. “Are you flirting with my grandma?”

 “Grandma?”

 “Come on, Mandy – you’ll make the poor man suffer a heartattack right here. I thought you told me you liked him.”

 Stupidly Elias stuck out one hand. “I’m Elias Pound.”

 Claire laughed. “Yes, I know. Mandy’s told us all aboutyou. You study engineering together, right?”

 “Always had a head for numbers, that one.” An older manappeared beside Claire, and kissed her cheek. “Just like our daughter – her Mam.God knows where she got that from.”

 Claire nodded at Elias. “Jamie, this is Elias.”

 Elias gulped. “H-hi,” he stammered.

 “Ach, no need to be shy, lad! I dinna bite.” Jamie Fraserheartily clapped Elias’ shoulder. “So – do ye like the paintings?”

 “Be honest,” Mandy teased.

 Elias cleared his throat. “I – um – yes. I’m stillgetting to know New York, and it’s so interesting to see how your workdocuments how the city has changed.”

 Jamie looked over at his granddaughter, one still-redeyebrow raised. “Very astute observation. Good that he appreciates things thataren’t numbers.”

 Mandy groaned. “Be nice, Grand-da. We go to museums allthe time – we get in for free with our student IDs.”

 Elias cleared his throat. “Also, sir, your work is one ofthe most honest and pure representations of love that I’ve ever seen. I – I can’tquite describe it, but I can just feelit pouring out of the frame. It makes my heart race. And that’s something thathasn’t changed – am I right?”

 Jamie and Claire and Mandy – she had Jamie’s eyes, herealized – looked at him, eyes wide. Quietly Mandy stepped forward to take hishand, squeezing it. So proud.

 “Thank you,” Jamie whispered, drawing Claire to his side.“You understand. She’s everything.”

 “Yes,” Elias agreed, looking at Mandy. “She is.” 

#;mod gotham #this is the best way i can think of to tell the rest of artist!jamie and claire's story #all of the artist aus

[pingo1387]

A Thing Called Love

One Piece Fanfic  Frobin, Modern AU  Based on the tropes “Oh no, there was only one bed!” “Oh no, they were roommates,” and “Oh no, they were fake-dating.” 

The front door slammed open and slammed shut, and Franky barrelled into the apartment with wide eyes and a shout of, “You have to date me!” 

“No, I don’t,” Robin said without looking up from her work at the kitchen table. She chewed on the end of her pen, frowning, and then paused and looked up. “What?” 

“I—hold on—” Franky bent over, catching his breath. “Hoo! I was talking with Kokoro about Iceburg’s wedding, and she asked if I was bringing anyone, and I wasn’t really paying attention so I just said Yeah, and by the time I realized what she’d said, she’d already talked herself into being so happy for me and all that crap, so now I’d feel terrible for disappointing her, so—” 

“—So you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend until the wedding’s over?” Robin finished. “Why don’t you just tell her you made a mistake, or pretend you broke up with your partner before the ceremony?” 

“Listen, I’m not that kind of guy! It doesn’t matter that I made a mistake, I told her I’d bring my partner to the wedding, so damn it, I’m going to bring my partner to the wedding!” 

“And you want that partner to be me,” Robin said, putting down her pen inside the textbook and closing it. “Why?” 

“Why you? Why not you? You’re one of my best friends, and we’re roommates, so we have plenty of time to practice. Besides, everyone always assumes we’re dating anyway.” 

“Plenty of time outside of work, maybe.” Robin closed her eyes and sighed. “Okay … I’ll do it. As long as we don’t have to kiss.” 

“Hell no. If you’re cool with hugs and dancing, that’s as far as we’ll go.” 

“Yes, that’s fine. When’s the wedding?” 

“On the eighth next month, two o’clock. We gotta be there early because I’m the best man again. God, thank you so much, you’re the best.” 

Robin stared at a wall. “I’ll need to go dress shopping.” 

“Yeah, I’ll need a tux top or something.” Franky unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it across the room on the couch and scratching his shoulder under the binder strap. “By the way, we can start practicing real soon.” 

“Oh?” 

“Kokoro called me a bit after I left to invite me and my partner over for dinner tomorrow night at her and Tom’s place. I guess she told Tom right away, and they both want to meet you.” 

Robin sighed and clasped her hands together as if in prayer, resting them on her forehead. “Fine. Fine. What time?” 

The front door opened, and Franky and Robin looked down to see Chimney grinning up at them. 

“Hi, Uncle Franky!” she yelled. She stared at Robin as Franky picked her up to hug her. “Are you my new aunt?” 

“Goodness, no,” Robin said, smiling and shaking her hand. She and Franky stepped inside, Franky hurling Chimney into the couch cushions, making her scream with laughter. “We’re just … dating right now. That doesn’t make me your aunt.” 

“Not yet, anyway,” Kokoro said, stepping out of the kitchen with a ladle. She waved at Franky and Robin. “Welcome home, kiddo and kiddo’s girlfriend. Make yourselves comfortable while us old geezers finish up dinner.” 

“Thank you,” Robin said as she vanished inside the kitchen again. Franky gestured to the couch and they sat, Chimney crawling onto his lap and playing the knuckle song on his metal legs. 

“Robin, this is my niece Chimney,” Franky said, pointing. “Chimney, this is Robin.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Chimney,” Robin said. 

“What’re you doing here, squirt?” Franky said. “Is your papa busy?” 

“Uh-huh. He told me I gotta stay with Tom and Kokoro a lot while he’s getting ready for the wedding with his friend.” 

“Is Gonbe here? Her rabbit,” Franky said at Robin’s curious look. 

“He’s in bed, napping.” Chimney got bored of using Franky as an instrument and looked at Robin. “Do you live with Uncle Franky yet?” 

“We’ve, uh, been living together for a long time,” Robin said awkwardly. “But we only started dating a little bit ago.” 

“Oh, that’s funny.” 

“You know how I get paid to go to school?” Franky said. “Robin does, too. She studies languages no one speaks anymore.” 

“Why?” 

“I like learning about old things,” Robin explained. “I’m a historian. I study history.” 

“Then you should talk to Kokoro,” Chimney said wisely. “She’s real old.” 

Right on time, Kokoro poked her head out of the kitchen again. “You badmouthing me in there, girl?” she said to Chimney, laughing. “Come on in, you three, soup’s on.” 

“Soup!” Chimney cheered, running into the kitchen. Franky and Robin followed, seating themselves at the table which had been hastily cleared of old crosswords and pencils, some still lying on the floor. 

“There you are, boy!” Tom exclaimed, grinning. He slapped Franky on the back over Chimney’s head. “You gotten taller?” 

“More like you got shorter!” Franky said, smacking Tom back as Chimney dug into her lasagna. Tom winced (metal on skin was hardly a fair fight) and looked at Robin. 

“You chose well,” he said with a nod. 

“Tom, come on,” Franky said, rolling his eyes. “Uh, so, this is Robin. My … girlfriend. Yeah. And roommate.” 

“So nice to meet you both,” Robin said, reaching over the table to shake hands with Kokoro and Tom. “Franky’s told me all about you.” 

“Then we’ll have no secrets in this household,” Kokoro said, grinning. “Dig in, you two, don’t be shy.” 

The table fell silent save for chewing as everyone began to fill their empty stomachs. Halfway through dinner, Tom looked between Franky and Robin and said, “Tell me, what made you two start dating? Having lived together before then and all that.” 

Franky covered his mouth, face turning red and eyes watering as he coughed. 

“It was … um …” Robin looked at Franky and started hitting his back. “Oh dear, let me help you with that, honey.” 

The pet name only made Franky cough harder. 

“Is he dying?” Chimney asked. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, sweetie,” Kokoro said, handing her a napkin. 

“You see, not long ago, we were talking,” Robin said, eyes darting around as she tried to come up with a plausible story while smacking Franky’s back, now clasping her hands together, standing, and pounding them into his spine. “And … we felt some kind of spark. It was like something just … clicked. So … we realized we were … in love … and that was that.” 

“How sweet,” Kokoro said, pouring herself some red wine as Franky slowly recovered, now trying not to laugh. “Either of you kids want some?” 

“A little, yes,” Robin said. Kokoro poured her a glass. 

“Yep!” Franky yelled as soon as he recovered. Robin sat back down. “What she said. That’s definitely how it happened! This is great lasagna!” 

“Man, you two are in love,” Tom said, shaking his head. “Robin, Franky and I are gonna head out to the workshop after Kokoro and I finish the dishes. Care to join us?” 

“Maybe later,” Robin said, lifting her glass to her lips. 

“You gotta come play with me n’ Gonbe, Aunt Robin” Chimney insisted, tugging on her sleeve. 

“Chimney, she’s not your aunt yet,” Kokoro said, her cheeks turning pink as she finished off her second glass of wine. “Don’t be rude.” 

“Sorry, ma’am. Will you, Aunt Robin?” 

“Yes, of course,” Robin said, accepting her new title with raised eyebrows directed at Franky. 

“Looking good,” Tom said, examining Franky’s arm extended on the table. He removed the eyepiece, blinking, and made Franky hold out his other arm. “Speaking of looking good …” 

“I know I look good,” Franky said, crossing one foot over his knee. 

“I meant you and Robin! You’re a good match.” 

Franky shifted. “Uh, you think so? Really?” 

“Really!” Franky pulled back his arm, uncrossing his legs, and Tom knelt to check his legs and feet. “She seems a good fit for you. Even if you ended up friends and nothing else, I bet you could still get married and raise a couple kids, like me and Kokoro.” 

“Tom!” Franky sputtered, kicking him in the chin. “Whoops, sorry—you’re getting ahead of things! We only just started—dating!” 

Tom laughed, rubbing the spot. “Watch it, bucko!” He smacked Franky’s thigh and went back to checking the prosthetics. “Never hurts to think about a positive future. And damn it, boy, you chose to date her, so you better go all in!” 

“I always do everything going all in!” 

Tom let out a booming laugh and straightened up. “That’s the spirit! Your limbs look great!” 

“Of course they do! I made them! It’s like you think I don’t check them myself!” 

“Never hurts to have a second opinion! I’ll check your pacemaker after the wedding. Any idea what you’re going to wear?” 

“Tux top and my fanciest underwear.” 

“Good man!” 

“Listen,” Kokoro said, patting Robin’s shoulder after they’d finished applauding Chimney and Gonbe’s third dance recital. “You’re a good fit for him.” 

Robin bit her lip. “Is that so?” 

“Yeah. You crazy kids would make good parents.” 

“Excuse me, ma’a … miss, but we’ve only been dating for a little while,” Robin reminded her. Chimney and Gonbe ran off while they talked, and a crashing sound came from the living room. “It’s a bit too early to be thinking about children.” 

“What about Chimney? If Iceburg and his spouse want a day alone, guess who gets her?” 

“You and Tom?” 

Kokoro opened her mouth and paused. “Hmm. Yeah, probably!” She laughed. “But it could be you two! Chimney’s already taken a liking to you.” 

“I noticed. She’s a sweet girl.” 

“She can be. I—” 

Another crash came from the living room, and then from Chimney a yell of, “Um, Granny Kokoro?” 

“Come help me with this, will you?” Kokoro said, standing and stumbling away. Robin smiled and followed her. 

Robin and Franky waved goodbye, climbing into Franky’s car and shutting the doors. Franky drove away, backing out of the driveway and zooming down the street until he hit a stop sign. As the car idled, waiting for traffic to slow, Franky and Robin looked at each other and burst out laughing. 

“Tom came out of nowhere with, ‘You two would be great married,’“ Franky exclaimed, grinning. “The nerve of him—” 

“Kokoro said we’d be great parents,” Robin said, shaking her head with a big smile. “Do they always jump to conclusions and rush into things?” 

“Actually, no,” Franky said, checking the road and turning left. “They can both be a little impulsive, but they usually don’t say things without good reason.” 

“Odd …” 

“Ready?” Franky asked, approaching the camera. 

“It’s already recording,” Robin said, adjusting the tripod so it wouldn’t sink into the grassy dirt. 

“Okay!” Franky stepped back and grinned into the camera lens. “This is the Super Sir Franky Kati, Esquire, the Third—” 

“You’re a lawyer?” 

“What? Is that what Esquire means?” 

Robin pressed the button. “Let’s start over.” 

“Okay, okay.” Franky brushed back his blue hair with one hand. “Ready?” 

“Go.” 

Franky grinned into the camera lens. “This is Franky Kati, engineering grad student, and I’m here at Memorial Park to test out this super handmade drone!” He held up the machine and the remote control. “Let’s get going!” 

He ran away from the camera, set the drone on the grass, and backed up. At a button press from the remote, the drone rose into the air, and Robin had to move the camera to keep it in view. 

“Great!” Franky exclaimed when he’d finished showing off some tricks. He lowered the drone back down into his hand and turned it off, running back to the camera. “That was a demonstration of my super prowess! This is Franky signing off!” 

Robin turned off the camera, giving him a thumbs-up. “Great job.” 

“Right?! But this isn’t good enough. It needs paint so it looks cool. Maybe some decorations, too …” 

Robin stared at him, smiling as he talked. It took her a minute to notice when he stopped talking and started staring back. 

“What?” she said, startled. 

“What, yourself?” he said. “You zoned out?” 

“I think so.” She knelt to fold up the tripod, looking away from him. “Let’s pack up and head back so you can start editing this.” 

“Franky?” 

Robin straightened up and turned around as Franky exclaimed, “Iceburg?” 

“Well, hi,” Iceburg said, coming to a stop in front of them. He tucked a strand of violet hair behind his ear and looked at Robin. “Well, hello, Robin. What are you two doing out here?” 

“We’re on a date!” Franky yelled, setting down his machine, grabbing Robin around the shoulders, and embracing her from the side. “We’re definitely on a date!” 

“You two started dating?” Iceburg said in surprise. 

“Oh,” Franky said, relaxing his hold on Robin. “Kokoro … didn’t tell you. I see.” 

“No no, well, that is, congratulations,” Iceburg said with a smile. “To be honest, I thought you two were together at first before it became clear you weren’t. So my hunch was right. You were made for each other.” 

“Your parents and daughter said the same thing,” Robin said, holding Franky’s arm to her. “We had dinner at their place the other night.” 

“What’re you doing here, Assburg?” Franky said quickly, resting his chin on Robin’s shoulder, where it fit so naturally. “Where’s your fianc—” He went silent when Robin leaned her head against his, and his eyes darted to her. 

“Shopping with Chimney and Gonbe. We’re, well, meeting up later.” Iceburg grinned and waved. “Sorry to interrupt your, well, date. I’ll get out of your hair. Glad you two, well, realized your feelings.” 

“Yes,” Robin said. “We’re in love. So very in love.” 

They waved goodbye as Iceburg departed for the lakeside. 

“I guess we should get going,” Robin said, still holding Franky’s arm to her. 

“Yeah, definitely,” Franky said, still resting his chin on Robin’s shoulder. 

They looked at each other and jumped away as if stabbed. Robin hurried to the tripod and Franky to his drone and remote. As they walked back, they found this and that to talk about, and discussed all manner of subjects that had nothing to do with what had happened at the park. 

Little things between them magnified and filled the next few weeks between the present and the wedding. When they found time to make dinner together, their hands would brush and linger reaching for the spices. When Franky drove, Robin would watch him and look away when he glanced at her, and when Robin drove, Franky would watch her and look away when she glanced at him. People had always assumed they were dating, but now when it happened they couldn’t find it in themselves to deny it as sincerely as they had—before. 

Before they knew it, the wedding was just a week away, and it was time to go clothes shopping. 

“No, no,” Franky insisted to the sales associate, both of them equally exasperated. “A tux top. Just the top. Not the pants. I don’t like pants.” 

“Sir, we can’t sell separate pieces of a suit,” she explained with her best cheery voice. Robin, sitting in a chair near the front of the store, rolled her eyes and smiled. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how else to help you. Perhaps you could try a different store?” 

“Excuse me, do you offer rentals?” Robin said, raising her voice. The woman nodded. “There you go, Franky, you can rent a suit and just wear the top.” 

“Hey, yeah! That’s a great idea! She’s super smart,” Franky said to the relieved woman. “So, what’s up for rental?” 

“It’s a good thing you brought your girlfriend shopping, hm?” she said with a smile, leading him to a rack of clothes. 

“Yeah. I mean, she’s—” Franky looked back at Robin. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s a good thing.” 

Uncomfortable as always with long sleeves, it took some time for Franky to settle on a suit, enough for Robin to have left the store and walk around the block twice. 

“Okay,” Franky said, holding the rental and running out to the car, throwing it into the backseat. “Let’s do you now. You got a place in mind?” 

Franky fidgeted outside the dressing room as Robin flitted in and out, having pleasant conversation with the store manager and finding the floor fascinating whenever he mentioned her boyfriend. She tried on dress after dress but came out each time with it on her arm again, the garments fitting oddly even with her corset. 

“Look,” Franky said when Robin came out of the dressing room yet again. “I’m sorry, but I’m getting hungry. How much longer do you think this is gonna—?” 

He turned to look at her and his words died in his throat. The violet dress she wore, held up by a halter top, stretched to her knees and was decorated with cloth flowers on the hem, small yellow centers sewn into each one. 

“If you like this one, we can go,” she said, fidgeting and plucking at the fabric. She looked at him, seeing him gaping, and frowned. “What is it? Franky?” 

“Wow,” he whispered. 

“What?” 

“That one’s good! It’s great!” He stood and gestured to all of her. “It looks great on you. I mean, you look great in it! It’s super!” 

She turned away. “You don’t have to try that hard.” 

He froze. “Uh—what?” 

“If this dress is good, we can go,” she repeated, voice tinged with ice. “Don’t over-praise just because you want to leave.” 

“No, I … okay, uh …” 

His words died down as Robin disappeared back into the dressing room to change back. When she came out again, the dress on her arm, he mumbled something about the car and left the store while she went to pay. 

Franky stood by the front door, checking the clock on the microwave. He tugged on his tux top, imagining tearing off the sleeves and ripping open the front. 

“Robin?” he yelled. “Iceburg’s gonna be pissed if we’re late!” 

Robin’s door opened and she hurried out, pumps clicking on the floor. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, blinking hard to stop her mascara’d eyelashes sticking together. She wore light purple lipstick and eyeshadow. “I’ve never done foundation before, and I hate these shoes.” 

“You don’t have to wear heels,” Franky said, wearing his own shade of bright blue lipstick and thick mascara on his lower eyelashes. He opened the door for her and she hobbled out, slowly regaining her balance and dignity. “I never have. That’s what stilts are for.” 

She choked out a laugh, covering her mouth. “Please, Franky. I just need to get used to them.” 

He shut the door, ran a hand over his slicked-back hair, and stretched. “Let’s do this.” 

They hurried down the stairs, Robin clutching the railing, and got into the car. Robin checked her hair in the mirror as Franky drove, making sure the claw clip still held. 

“Did you lock the door?” she asked when they idled at a busy red light. She took out the clip, letting her hair fall. 

Franky smacked his forehead, wincing. 

“We should probably go back.” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine, we’re practically late already,” Franky said, checking the dashboard clock as Robin redid her hair. “What’re the odds we get robbed the one time we forget to lock the door?” 

“Nineteen to one.” 

“I like those odds.” At Robin’s exasperated look, Franky shrugged with one arm, palm up. “It’s fine! We’re probably okay! There’s not much worth stealing anyway.” 

“Some maniac could make off with the stove,” Robin said, a smile creeping onto her face. Franky laughed, and the light finally turned green. 

“Well, there you are,” Iceburg said, running into the parking lot as Franky and Robin exited the car. His purple jacket was slung over his shoulder and his dress shirt was partially unbuttoned. As he held out a hand to help Robin out, he said, “You’re running late—” 

“I know, I know, traffic was bad,” Franky said, slamming the door shut. “Robin, uh, I gotta help this asshole get ready, you wanna just mill about or—?” 

��Is there anything I can do?” she asked Iceburg, shutting her door. 

“Well, Kokoro and Chimney are setting up the refreshments for the reception,” Iceburg said. “I’m sure they could use a hand.” 

“Are you absolutely sure you’re ready?” Tom asked, holding up the cologne bottle. “I’ve got more of this stuff if you—” 

“I’m fine, really.” Iceburg, now in a full suit and tie, batted away the fragrance. “Thank you both. Well, Franky, are you ready? It’s almost time.” 

“Yeah, totally! I repurposed my speech from last time. Hope that’s okay.” 

Iceburg closed his eyes and sighed. “That’s fine. That’s fine.” 

“It’s all ready,” Kokoro said, poking her head into the room and making everyone jump. Robin and Chimney followed after her. 

“It’s all set up!” Chimney echoed, bouncing Gonbe in her arms. 

“We’re gonna get ourselves chairs, Tom,” Kokoro finished, “so come find us when you’re done.” 

“Uh, sorry I can’t sit with you during the thing,” Franky said to Robin, standing and going over to her. “I’ll meet you for the reception. Gotta talk to you about something.” 

“Alright,” she said, turning away quickly. With a fleeting look, she followed Kokoro and Chimney out the door again. 

Robin, holding Chimney on her lap, watched Franky as he stood by Iceburg, nudging him as they both watched Iceburg’s partner walk up to the altar. Chimney wiggled and moved into Kokoro’s lap as the priest said the traditional words, and the audience applauded as Iceburg and his new spouse kissed, shiny rings on their fingers. 

The audience stood and gathered together for drinks, pouring themselves juices and wines. Iceburg’s father-in-law gave a short speech, followed by Iceburg, followed by Franky, whose speech brought out laughter and an eye-roll from Iceburg when he started with, “Welcome back, everyone!” 

As soon as the toasts were complete, Chimney ran to join her parents, and Franky ran to join Robin, wiping tears from his eyes. 

“Hey,” he said, grinning. 

“Hey,” she said, smiling. 

“Listen,” he said. The music started playing from speakers and the audience dispersed around the room, talking amongst themselves and dancing. “Remember when we were clothes shopping, and you got mad at me?” 

“Yes?” she said, her smile fading. 

“I wasn’t—I didn’t say that because I wanted to leave.” He took her hands in his, thumbs on the sides of hers. “I meant it. You were beautiful. You are beautiful, no matter what you’re wearing, and I should’ve realized and told you a long time ago.” 

She squeezed his metal hands, staring at them. “Oh.” 

“You’re—wonderful,” he said when she fell silent again. “You’re so smart, and clever. Your sense of humor is so weird, and that’s why I like it. You have an amazing sense of style, you—” 

“You’re amazing,” she interrupted, looking up at him, her eyes shining with tears. “You’re like a wizard with machines, remember when our dryer was broken, and you fixed it? You’re so confident—”

“—You’re incredible—” 

“—You’re funny—” 

“—You’re kind—” 

“—You’re enthusiastic—” 

They fell silent, staring at each other. Both were crying now, drawing whispers from surroundng attendees. 

“Remember when you asked me to pretend to be your partner,” Robin said, running her thumbs along Franky’s palms, “and I said yes, as long as we didn’t have to kiss?” 

“Yeah?” Franky said, biting his lip to keep from openly sobbing in the middle of the reception hall. 

“I don’t want to pretend anymore. And I changed my mind about kissing. Is that okay?” 

Franky bent down and Robin tilted her head up, both their arms stretched downward as they kissed. 

“I’m sorry for snapping earlier,” Robin said when they pulled away. “I never thought—I never thought anyone—” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Franky exclaimed, squeezing her hands gently. He brought up one of his hands to wipe at his face again. “I’m not crying, don’t believe what anyone tells you!” 

She laughed through her own tears and stood on tiptoes to kiss his face. “Would you like to dance?” 

“Yeah! Yeah,” he said, his mascara starting to run. “Super.” 

“I can’t believe we already told everyone we’re dating,” Franky said, breaking the silence of the car ride as they pulled into the parking lot. “Now we don’t get the joy of doing it for real. God damn it, will someone tell me why didn’t I ask you out sooner?!” 

“Because you’re an idiot,” Robin said, taking off her shoes and getting out of the car barefoot. 

“Oh, yeah!” Franky got out and shut his own door, grinning. “What a party that was.” 

“What a party.” 

It was a tight fit up the stairs, but they held hands going to their apartment. Franky opened the door and stared inside. 

“Oh, right,” he said. “Forgot to lock it. Let’s go check our rooms.” 

He and Robin disappeared into their rooms, and soon came out again. 

“Everything’s fine!” Franky announced with a relieved grin, which dropped when he saw Robin’s face. “Oh, no, did you—?” 

“Someone took my bed,” she said forlornly. She opened her door wider to show Franky. “Just the mattress,” she corrected, as the bedframe was still there and the sheets were crumpled on the floor. 

“What kind of asshole just takes the mattress?” Franky exclaimed. 

“I’ll just sleep on the couch until I can get a new one,” Robin said, staring sadly into her room. 

“Now hold on,” Franky said. He cleared his throat and looked into his room when Robin looked at him. “I’ve still got a mattress.” 

“I noticed.” 

“No, I mean—you don’t have one. Do you wanna … ?” 

He gestured to his room, then himself, then Robin. He gestured to his room, then himself, then Robin again, until Robin’s eyes widened. 

“You’re offering to take the couch?” she said in surprise. 

“No! I mean, I will if you want me to, but I meant we could … share the bed … ?” He mumbled this last part. 

She covered her mouth, hiding a smile. “I guess I have no choice.” 

Robin knocked on Franky’s door and entered, fresh out of the shower and wearing a nightshirt and shorts. 

“C’mon in,” Franky said, waving. He wore the same thing. Robin tiptoed in, placing her pillow on the bed and getting under the covers. 

“Thank you for this,” she whispered. 

“Huh, yeah! No problem,” he exclaimed, lowering his voice as he spoke. “Um … yeah.” 

They fell silent for a time, listening to each other breathing. 

“Robin?” Franky whispered. “I guess you know this, but … I’m really happy we’re together now. I love you.” 

Robin was silent, and when Franky looked back to check on her, he found her fast asleep. 

“Night,” he whispered. 

#frobin #one piece #opfanfic #writing adventures