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gotham-daydreams · 10 days

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Not Now (PT. 1)

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Mild General Yandere(ish) Behavior, Mild Arguing, Awkward Tension(?)]

(Sorry, forgive and forget isn't an option anymore. Sort of proofread and lightly edited. If you thought the 2nd chapter was long, you're in for a little treat. A little more focus on Dick this time with some sprinkles of the others, and a bit of Tim in the beginning. Meeting some of the reader's friends now. The 2nd part is longer... and sort of where the 'real' stuff happens, but this part of the chapter is still important imo. Take your time reading this, and remember to take breaks!)

Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain, @d4mi3nn , @mindscape123, @143637-hrrm, @lilyalone, @ceramic-raven , @bruhfan-3 , @i-thirsty-boi , @yandere-enthusiast , @1mawh0re , @vanessa-boo , @agent-nobody-knows , @myeagleexpert , @waitingforanarchicaddiction , @mottysith , @simpingfor-wakasa , @imjustheretogetalif , @toast-on-dandelioms , @instantmiraclekryptonite , @luvr0cksadie , @littlefeather345 , @generosityheart , @emmbny , @sereinitysmind , @love-zami , @angstylittleb1tch , @kiiyoooo , @andrasia , @aenishas , @gyarukitti , @ash1 , @samohxt2-0 , @books-are-everything , @kurai-hono-blog , @veryrascalbiscuitbagel , @lavender-moony

@vikkus-main, @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhha, @iloveanimeandkpop7, @spacecerealbowl,

If you aren't tagged then I'm sorry! I may have missed you, or tumblr was being weird and it wouldn't work :']

Chapter 3 of this post. Chapter 2. Part 2. [Series Masterlist]

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The night was young when everything went to chaos.

The streets were empty for a change, with no one daring to step outside. With those who once roamed them making an effort to quickly step inside, and wait out the rest of the night. Deciding to be more careful, and not tempt fate one too many times for once.

There was something different about tonight, that much everyone knew, but what exactly was going on was anyone's guess. Something was in the air that made it thicker, and harder to breathe. The atmosphere felt different, and weighed down on the city's residents. No civilian or thug was safe from the sudden change and the effects it had on Gotham. Not to mention that the vigilantes — the people who dared to protect Gotham during its darkest hours — seemed more focused than usual.

Not in the way where they were more focused on targeting crime in Gotham, and getting rid of her more corrupted and infectious roots, but in some… other way. Like they were focusing on one particular thing, and ignoring everything else in the process.

What that thing is, no one knew, but most were wary and cautious enough to not get in the way. Unwilling to find out what would happen if they got caught in the crossfire of whatever was happening.

However, this is still Gotham. Where some saw danger, others saw opportunity. So they tried to start something, thinking they could sneak right past the heroes of the city, and fly under their radar more easily compared to previous nights because of how focused they seemed to be on something else.

Yet, just as the fire began to lit, it was snuffed out.

A heavy stomp stopped the flames from even daring to light, killing it before it could even think to rise. The stomp itself coming down much more swiftly and heavier than before, digging the thugs it hit into the ground. They, the vigilantes who dared to protect Gotham and their citizens night after night, were harsher that way. More brutal than the city had ever seen them before, and that was quick to kill off some sparks that were trying to light. They were quicker, faster, and hit a whole lot harder. As if just wanting to get things over with, and quickly move on.

It was almost like they were rushing, and whoever thought that wouldn't be entirely wrong.

They just wanted to put all of their time and energy into finding you, but still had half a mind to take care of the crime in Gotham. Since, they'd have to deal with it anyway if they wanted things to go as smoothly as possible. Not to mention the off chance that some thugs could be messing with you, and so they'd get to swoop in and save you if they ever ran into such an altercation. Though, they didn't want to run around and just hope for that chance, so they also chose certain places and people to interrogate and search for. Taking out any and all thugs as well as minor criminals along the way.

As if anyone in their way was doomed from the day they were born, and dared to step foot in Gotham. As if they were cursed the very moment they dared to live in this damned city at all.

Nevertheless, some went after your teachers while others went to search through places you had been to for one reason or another. Whether it was for a performance or otherwise, it didn't matter. The fact that you had been there before was the only detail they cared about.

Finding you, and any information about you came first. Everything else was secondary.

That's why Tim was more focused on trying to find more… personal information about you. From your email, to where you lived, and who your friends are — he wanted to know everything. Even if he already had your phone number, you weren't responding or picking up whatsoever. Which wasn't exactly helping him calm down.

If only he could track your phone somehow-

["You have any new information yet?"]

Jason suddenly spoke up, making Tim scoff and narrow his eyes at the computer screen he was looking at, as if it was Jason's face.

How annoying.

"You've asked that question several times in the last fifteen minutes."

["And? Do you have any new information, or what?”]

Tim could only roll his eyes, having been scrolling through so many social media posts and pages, that he had lost count of exactly how many he had gone through or looked at. All he knew was that the total amount was quickly approaching triple digits.

Anything mentioning you caught his interest, and eventually he had found your public account — which, as expected, just held dates for your performances and when a new album or song of yours would be coming out. There were also a few previews of songs you would be playing at the time, had written, or both, and as much as Tim would like to listen to them all, he couldn't. Not right now anyway. He had to focus, for you.

… Though he'd keep it in mind for later.

"Besides more places where Y/n has performed, and when? No. Who could've guessed."

Jason scoffs, which almost made Tim smile a little but he quickly wiped it off his face, focusing again.

["Guys, let's not fight, alright? Just focus on finding Y/n."]

Dick suddenly spoke as well, the sounds of a fight slowly dying down could faintly be heard in the background.

["I'm not trying to start a fight, but y'know what would help with finding Y/n? Some fucking new information."]

["Language!" Dick sighs before continuing, "Look, just calm down-"]

["I am calm."]

["-and focus. We'll find them."]

Jason clicks his tongue, clearly getting upset.

Tim couldn't say much, seeing as he's already a bit upset himself, but that wasn't really saying much either. All of them were getting progressively frustrated and annoyed, but it was the source of those feelings that were different for each and every one of them. You were a big part of it, of course, but their anger wasn't directed towards you — not for Tim, anyway. Never.

Rather, it's the factors that surrounded you, and maybe their hate and guilt towards themselves, and what they've missed in your life — is what really drove them to try as hard as they are now. They all want to see you, but they have their own separate reasons despite how similar they may seem.

["How the hell can you be so sure? They could be getting killed, or being tortured right now. We need to find them as soon as possible- and you'll never guess what we need for that to happen."]

Tim could practically hear the eye roll in Jason's voice.

["We're all trying to find Y/n as fast as we can! Have a little faith, they can fight-"]

["You don't actually believe that, right?"]

["..."]

Dick's silence spoke volumes, but some of them understood it better than others, because they feel the same way. Fighting in tournaments and in controlled environments is different than fighting out in the streets, and in Gotham no less. No amount of trophies or medals could change their minds on that. Nothing could.

["See? Even you don't believe it."]

[Dick sighs, "Look, let's just keep looking while Babs and Tim grab more information, alright? We have to be patient."]

["That's reeeal rich coming from the guy who rushed out of the fucking Manor, the very second he heard Alfred didn't know where Y/n was. Weren't you the first one to start looking for them in the city?"]

["Y/n isn't going to be dead in the next few minutes, Jason-"]

["You don't fucking know that."]

Again, a brief silence passes as Dick just sighs again.

["Grayson does have a point, Todd."]

Damian spoke up, causing Tim to roll his eyes almost instinctively. Just remembering that he was technically working with the youngest Wayne, made his mood worsen. Though he just pushed his annoyance to the side, and continued his search.

If it were up to him, he wouldn't be working with half of the family, but that's the thing — he didn't have a choice. None of them really did. Finding you was just that important to them. You, in general, had become that important to them, and in just a few mere hours no less. Even if it left a few of them biting their tongues, and hiding their clear distaste for having to work with certain people. Still, they tried to work together to the best of their ability.

Tim just took a breath, still listening in on the conversation as he scrolls through even more websites and pages. A collection of photos and announcements leading him down a rabbit hole of posts, and finding some accounts that Tim was beginning to think belonged to your friends with how often they commented, the things they'd say, and how you'd respond. Even if the majority of those comments were on older posts, it was still something. So, he dug deeper.

Eventually, he came to the conclusion that your personal account was private. Since, he found one of the accounts he thought belonged to one of your friend's, and they mentioned an account Tim couldn't access. Of course, he hacked it and got in, but there still wasn't anything of use from what he could see. The occasional pictures were nice, even if they didn't show your face too often, but they didn't give him any information he could use to locate you. Hell, even the account itself didn't have a set location listed, and nor did your email. With the only thing he could gather from posts you privated being that you were still in Gotham, at the very least.

However it did seem like you not only didn't post too often, but were careful about what you posted even on your private account. Not to mention who you posted about as well, and how you worded things. As if you knew someone would be looking through your posts someday, and try to find you. As if you knew Tim would be looking through your page, and try to find you by the little bits of information he thought you'd accidentally leave behind. However, all he found was mostly inconclusive with his current objective. The most he could gather was that you either lived in an apartment, were staying with a friend, or settling at various hotels and such just to have a roof over your head. Though not much else.

Sighing, he kept looking.

Just where are you?

["Oh yeah? How so, demon spawn?"]

["Jason-!"]

["L/n knows how to fight, they can surely take care of themself for a few minutes." Damian states. Cutting off Dick, and ignoring the name Jason used to refer to him.]

["Oh, so you believe that?" Jason scoffs.]

["I haven't been given a reason to think otherwise."]

["Right. Okay. So let's say that Y/n isn't dead for a second here. Do you know how many enemies they could potentially have? Or just how many people want them dead? They're known as a Wayne kid, and a musician too, apparently. Anyone could be after their head, or want to squeeze some money out of them for all we know. How are they supposed to fight against threats like that?"]

["And you think they aren't prepared for that? With how much time has passed, I doubt they'd still remain ignorant to such risks. Especially with the career they've chosen as well." Damian scoffs, as if frustrated and offended on your behalf, "No wonder L/n left."]

["Damian!" Dick exclaims, the youngest Robin's words clearly uncalled for.]

["What? You don't truly believe they just ‘ran away’. Do you, Grayson? Even Father doesn't believe such nonsense."]

Tim could only remain silent, but he had suspected as much as well. He didn't particularly enjoy agreeing with Damian, but for a change, it seemed that they were on the same page.

After all, the more Tim looked, and the deeper his research went, the possibility of you having left, instead of ran away, was turning into a clear certainty. Not to mention that various details he noticed in different posts, seemed to indicate that you had no intentions of coming back home, further proving that thought to be true.

It wasn't really even through posts you made either, but instead posts your friends had made. Various pictures and videos shared on their accounts showing the pieces of your life that the family had missed out on. Showing Tim what he had missed out on.

From parties and celebrations that were held for your accomplishments and your friend's, to events you attended with them instead of someone from your family. To smaller things such as various study sessions that were held, sleepovers and all the fun activities you did with your friends, to sneaky photos taken of you practicing, and how nervous you used to be behind stage — only to later show how confident and comfortable you had grown in more recent pictures.

He saw your life and nearly every part of it he had missed through someone else's eyes. Through the camera lens that captured how much fun you had, or just how happy you were during the time the photo was taken, or how calm you looked as you set up your instrument and prepared to play it, and how focused you became when you did. Videos that showed you getting into the zone, and displaying your amazing skill and talent that Tim never saw up until now. That the rest of the family never knew about until recently, just because they couldn't put a few seconds to the side to even try and give your music a listen. Just because they never made time for you, and now they were finally paying the price for it. Finally realizing what they had truly lost, and why the occasional, soft melodies that would play at night had stopped entirely.

They had pushed you away, and you left. That was the true reality of the situation.

Yet the others didn't seem to believe it, or maybe refused to. Seeing as no one dared to say anything else for a few moments.

["... Bruce?" Dick hesitantly spoke up, he clearly didn't want to think about it. Let alone consider it.]

A heavy sigh could be heard before Bruce said anything.

["It's a possibility." His cold, calculated voice pierced through the air. It was less clear, but he didn't seem too fond of the idea either.]

["'Possibility'? Father, you can't be serious-" Damian tries to speak up, only to get cut off.]

["Exactly! Yeah! It's only a possibility, and we won't know for sure unless we find them." Stephanie pitches in, clearly trying to stay a little positive despite the situation.]

["Right…" Dick took a breath, "Well, what do you think, Tim?"]

"..."

Tim's silence said everything, and besides, he was much too focused on a particular thing he managed to find to really be paying attention anyway.

["... Tim?"]

["To think that Drake would be the only other sensible person here. Unbelievable."]

["Look- we don't know for sure, okay? But anyway, how did the interrogation go? Find out anything?"]

The rest of the conversation fell into the background. Tim would roll his eyes, but again, something else had caught his attention, seeing as he found a rather peculiar post.

On one of your friends' accounts, there was a post that showed you and two other people. All of you were wearing formal clothes, and stepping out of a theater that Tim recognized. The person taking the selfie had an arm wrapped around your shoulders, and he noted that they were the owner of the account. The other person was hugging your arm, and did bunny ears behind your head. All of you were smiling, and you looked so… happy..

Tim shook his head, and just focused on the individual hugging your arm. He didn't recognize them, not completely anyway, but noticed how their account was tagged in the post, and how it was an account he hadn't looked into yet. So, he went to their page and scrolled through their various posts. A particular detail already catching his interest as he scrolled down.

This person seemed to spend a lot of time with you…

Not that your other friends didn't, but this person seemed to have more posts with you in them, compared to the other accounts Tim has looked through thus far. There were many photos of you both hanging out, with some other personal posts sprinkled in here and there — but Tim isn't here for that. He's looking for you, so of course he ignored posts that didn't involve you.

Most of the photos showed you both hanging out and doing various activities together. With Tim's heart squeezing the more he saw, and further began to realize just how much of your life he had missed. Though he pushed it all to the side, just as he has been doing this entire time.

He could feel terrible about all the nights you spent away from home, and how no one noticed, later. He could feel guilty about all the time he's wasted not being with you when given the chance after he found you.

Only then, once you were safe again, once you were home, would he allow himself to feel the full weight of all he hadn't done. Though only when you were home, would he let himself fully see and realize just how little of an impact he had on your life. How he may as well have just been nothing but a figment of your imagination with how often he was present, along with everyone else.

Though, for that, he had to find you first, and he will, so he kept looking.

Eventually, he did stumble across a curious post. One that not only confirmed his suspicions, but also gave the most important piece of information Tim could've found right now.

It was another photo taken without your knowledge, seeing as your back was facing the camera, and a bit of your friend's face could be shown. You were moving some boxes into a building, and your friend seemed to be covering their mouth with their other hand — as if they had been laughing and were trying to cover it up. The caption of the post said how you lost a bet, and now had to move in most of the boxes yourself, but how they'd help you if they saw you genuinely struggling. Only to put in parentheses how viewers of the post shouldn't tell you that.

However, what caught his interest was the text on the image itself, and what parts of the building were shown.

['First day of moving in!!! Already making my bestie hate me by having them do all of the work♡ They're the best! Look at them go ♡♡'] The text in the photo read, with the building itself having a number, among various other details to suggest that it was an apartment building.

Tim felt his heart leap to his throat. No way, had he really…? No. No, he couldn't get his hopes up, but he searched for the building by using the other photos your friend had taken that eventually got him a street name and number. It didn't even take him a minute to find the exact building that perfectly mirrored the one in your friend's photo.

He tried to not work himself up too much, as he didn't waste any time finding the building's security system, and hacking into it. He didn't want to get his hopes up, only to end up disappointed. He didn't want to think about certain things or make up assumptions, only for them to turn up untrue. Yet, his heart rate increased as his hands began to shake despite his efforts.

No way, he thought. No way.

Getting into the system was a breeze, but Tim could hardly focus on that as he immediately looked through the building's security footage. He matched the dates of both the post and footage, and found you bringing in boxes, just as the photo had shown.

He watched you go into the elevator and took note of what floor you went up to, and eventually what apartment you walked into as well once you got there. Tim even observed as you took a second to yourself, sighing before going back down, and doing the process all over again — and even how you had to use the stairs at one point. Seeing as your friend had the bright idea to 'race' you, and see who could get most of the remaining boxes to the apartment in the least amount of time. It was a close tie, and your friend had won, but that's besides the point.

Tim went through other footage just to make sure he had the right information, and knew for certain that you lived in this particular apartment with your friend. For all he knew, you could've just offered to help them move in that day, so he had to be sure. He had to be certain. He couldn't afford to be wrong this time around.

Yet with all the footage he was able to review, and all the dates getting closer and closer to the current day, he was able to confirm it. He saw you walk in and out of that exact apartment on that exact floor, and leave and enter that exact building multiple times. With the amount of time that's passed, it made sense — even if Tim couldn't figure out where you had stayed between the few weeks you had presumably left the Manor and when you moved in with your friend, but that hardly mattered now. What did matter is that he found out where you live, and now had your address.

He almost couldn't believe it, staring at the document where he has been listing all of the information he's gathered from this search.

Having just finished writing down your address, it all felt so unreal.

He's done it. He's finally done it.

"Holy shit." Tim cursed under his breath, disbelief clear in his voice.

["Language, Tim."]

Bruce's voice suddenly sounded, causing Tim to jump before he quickly tried to settle down.

"Right, sorry." He apologized, placing a hand over his racing heart. God, that scared him more than it should've.

["Did you find anything?"]

Someone tsked at the question – while Tim just looked at his screen, still processing all that's happened, and suddenly feeling unsure.

Should he just keep this to himself, so that he could go after you? The others didn't know where you live… they didn't have to know yet. This was a golden opportunity — should he really be giving this up?

["With how long it's been? And all he's been able to find out? We'll be lucky if he even knows if Y/n is dating or not."]

["Jason, c'mon.." Dick tried to pitch in, dragging on.]

["What? I'm just saying-"]

"I know where Y/n lives." He found himself blurting out, Jason's words irritating him more than they would've. More than they should've.

["... Really? Where are they, Tim?" Dick didn't waste a moment to ask.]

["Yeah, just spill already so we can go get them."]

["Send me their location."]

["Send me the info too!"]

Tim could only sigh, rubbing his temple as he tried to collect his thoughts. Of course he just had to run his mouth before thinking things over. Of course he had to let that little comment get to him. Of course he just had to allow it to get to him so much that it made him give up the most important piece of information he had found out tonight.

Of course. Just great.

["Guys, I don't think it's a good idea for all of you to just go and see Y/n."]

Barbara finally spoke up, voice calm and collected.

["Why? I mean, I get that seeing the whole family all at once might be a little overwhelming… but I don't see why a few of us can't go." Dick questioned.]

["Because it's been months since they've last seen any of us? There's a reason why they haven't gone back to the Manor, and still haven't picked up your or Tim's calls."]

["... You're not saying-"]

["I'm just suggesting that maybe only one of you should go to kind of… test out the waters. We can't be sure of anything, and the best way to see how we should go about things is to know how Y/n feels about us first."]

["But we need to bring them home, they're not safe out here." Jason pointed out, already not liking the idea.]

["I know, but we can't just show up and expect them to comply because we're family. For all we know, they might-"]

["Okay! Um, I think we get it now." Stephanie interrupted, the idea already bothering her.]

["Fine, then I'll go." Jason proposed, sounding like he was just finishing up taking out a few thugs, if the faint noises in the background were anything to go by.]

"And why's that? I already have the location, so I'll go." Tim pointed out, already gathering his stuff, preparing to leave as quickly as he could.

["Because if they try anything, I'll be able to stop them. What're you going to do with your scrawny, lanky arms?"]

"They won't fight me, Jason." Tim sighed, as if that was obvious, "and besides, I thought you didn't think they could fight anyway?"

["I don't, but anyone could take you down without even trying."]

["Jay! Ugh," Dick groans, "Look, I'll go, okay?"]

["Oh yeah? And why should you go instead of me?"]

["Because at least I won't scare them off, and if anything happens then I can handle it too."]

["I'm going." Bruce stepped in, speaking as if the decision was already made.]

["If Father is going, then so am I." Damian chipped in.]

["The last person Y/n needs to see right now is definitely you, demon spawn." Jason scoffed.]

["You'll just scare them before you even get a word in, Bruce!" Dick tried to reason.]

["Hey, um, what if I go instead? At least I won't intimidate them or push them to come with us too hard." Stephanie suggested.]

Tim sighed, "Look, I can go and reason with them. Again, I already have the location so it makes sense-"

["No." Bruce said flatly.]

"But why!?"

["Father already said that he and I are going to see L/n," Damian stated, as if it was obvious, with a small scoff. Adding on, "Todd may also have a point."]

"So?! I already have the information, and I already said that Y/n won't fight me!"

["We can't say for sure what they will and won't do," Dick said, trying to deescalate the situation, "like Babs said, it's been a while. We don't know how they'll react or how they feel about us."]

["Is this you just trying to seem reasonable, so you can go see them first?" Jason asked, unconvinced.]

["What?! Of course not-!"]

["You're not really convincing anyone here, Dick…" Stephanie pointed out.]

The back and forth went on for a while. None of them could come to an agreement, as they all want to see you. They all want to be the first to actually meet you, and to experience what they all have found out about you first hand. Even if certain individuals were more guilty of that than others, the point still remained.

They just want to see you so much, could you really blame any of them?

Barbara sighed at the chaos, the arguments and defenses just getting more and more ridiculous. Eventually, just boiling down to certain people trying to prove that they want to see you more compared to others, and therefore should be the first to see you.

They all miss you, or desperately want to see the idea of you that they had created in their heads, but that wasn't a valid reason for why they should go and see you either. Especially considering how important this meeting would be. Since it would change and determine a lot of things, depending on how well or awful it went.

"Guys, look, just- whoever's the closest to the location should go." Barbara suggested with another sigh, which thankfully caused the constant arguing to stop for now.

["Fine, alright then." Tim agreed, albeit reluctantly.]

Barbara could only be a little thankful for the cooperation, but slowly grew confused at the silence that followed.

"Tim?" She asked, only to get another sigh as a response.

["It's Dick."]

["What? Really?!" Dick exclaimed, clearly happy at this turn of events.]

["Yes." Tim confirmed with a small groan, the frown evident in his voice.]

"Well, that settles it. Dick, you're going. Tim, send him the address. The right address, okay? We don't need more arguments or complications on this." Barbara says, "Don't push them too hard. The last thing we need is for their opinion of us to get worse, Dick."

["I know, I know. It'll be fine! I've got this!" Dick still sounded a little too happy, before suddenly going quiet.]

Barbara could only hope for the best at this rate.

["Did he seriously just turn off his comm link, and leave?" Jason asked as his voice rose, clearly upset.]

["Seems like it. Can't say I'm surprised since he sounded reallly happy to be able to see Y/n." Stephanie confirmed, sighing softly.]

["This is going to go poorly." Damian grimaced with another scoff.]

["Yeah, well, we can only hope he doesn't mess up too badly."]

["Let's try to think a little realistically, Tim." Jason said.]

Barbara just let out a huff as she looked at the screens in front of her. A little hope never killed anyone, but really, she didn't have a good feeling about this.

Maybe Dick really wasn't the best choice.

—

You were still calmly sitting in your apartment, messing around with the instrument in your hands. Since you've been switching between the ones you have every now and again, trying to find a particular melody you were looking for, but hadn't found just yet. You didn't have easy access to as many instruments as you did a few months ago, but you learned to work with what you had. Having taken home the very first instrument you bought yourself, and a few more of your favorites that could fit in the apartment that you managed to get your hands on for a decent price.

Sure, you did have other places you could go to that allowed you to play the other instruments you didn't have, but you liked to play at home if you could help it. There was just something about being in a comfortable space while composing a song or melody, that just felt nice. You truly felt at home, a feeling you didn't realize you missed until you left the manor and finally had a space that you could truly call your own. A feeling you didn't want to let go of, if you could help it.

Your life was still busy but it was beginning to slow down. You dedicated more time to things you actually enjoyed, but also made an effort to take care of yourself and hold onto good habits you had developed over the years. Though you were still trying to let go of some bad ones, you were making progress.

You felt… happy here. At peace, even.

You were surrounded by people that saw you and even recognized you, and were beginning to see that you had a family of your very own all along.

Unlike the family you were adopted into, your friends showed their care and support — and if anything, made sure you wouldn't forget it. With you showing the same care and support back, and your efforts being recognized instead of pushed to the side. Being reciprocated instead of leaving you with nothing, and making you feel more alone and unwanted than words could describe.

Sure, it wasn't perfect, and you've had your fair share of arguments and times where you needed space, but that was okay. You didn't need perfection, and you didn't need constant happiness. You just needed love and care, and that's what you found. Among other things you didn't ask for or necessarily need, but appreciated deeply regardless.

You felt like you had finally found what you've been searching for, and nothing could make you happier.

Yet, somewhere in your heart, you knew it couldn't last forever, and as if hearing your worries, an abrupt knock echoed throughout the apartment.

You paused what you were doing, humming curiously to yourself as you turned to look at the front door from your position on the couch. Who could that be at this hour? It certainly wasn't your roommate, seeing as they were sound asleep in their room, and you could still hear their snores despite being in the living room. So who else could it be?

Maybe it was Ms. Harry again, seeing as she had a bit of an odd tendency to knock on the wrong door sometimes. After all, she was old, and her memory was slowly getting worse, but she was always quick to fix her mistakes. So you just shrugged and turned away, convinced that it was another one of those nights where she just so happened to mistakenly knock on your door. So you let it be, knowing that she'd correct herself on her own and move along.

However, another set of knocks sounded.

They were a little louder this time, as if the person on the other side of the door really did want to be noticed. Which made you pause and look back at the door, taking a brief glance at the clock.

It was getting late, and not many people were out and about during this time of night. Not the people on your floor, anyway. Though, you still tried to think of anyone who could be at the door right now.

Besides your roommate, not many of your friends lived particularly close. With the amount of them that would not only be up at this time of night, but would also personally come to bother you without sending a text or anything, being even smaller. The more you think about it, the shorter the list of potential people got, and you don't know if that should make you more confused or worried. Maybe a bit of both, but you weren't sure.

More knocks sounded. Again, they were louder compared to the last set, if only by a little.

Well, whoever was at your door was being rather persistent, so you decided to at least check it out.

Reluctantly, you set the instrument you had been fiddling with for the past hour to the side. Sighing softly as you got up from your spot on the couch, and quietly approached the door.

Moving about as silently as you could was an odd habit you couldn't shake, and while your friends have joked and commented about it, you suppose it was just another remnant of your life in the manor. A life you were still trying to gradually leave behind.

Regardless, you made your way to the door, and yet here — right at the foot of it, an odd feeling began to blossom in your chest. You couldn't make sense of it, but as you reached for the knob, you found yourself stopping. It didn't feel like a good idea to open the door, and though you couldn't figure out why, you just took a small breath and pushed the feeling to the side.

Clearly, you were having a weird night, but just to humor yourself, you decided to 'comply' with whatever this feeling was, and check who was at the door by looking through the peephole instead.

It was only then did you understand.

You took a few silent steps back, putting your hand over your mouth as you kept your eyes on the door. Tingles of unease slowly crawling down your spine, and your heart began to beat against your chest harshly. You don't know if what you saw was real, but you didn't want to check again. Once felt like enough, especially since your legs felt like they were sinking into the floor.

How… how did they know where you live?

You took a breath, trying to calm your nerves as you took a few more steps away from the door. You have no idea what's going on, but all you know was that you don't want Dick knowing where you live. He might know the floor and building, but you refuse to give him the exact room if you could help it. So, you quickly moved to your room and got ready, a quick plan forming in your head.

Changing was easy, and so was gathering the stuff you thought you'd need for this. Not exactly too worried about the shoes you put on or anything like that, as your heart leapt from your chest to your throat when more knocks came, basically pounding against the door.

Fuck. He was getting impatient.

Picking up the pace, you made any last minute adjustments you could to your appearance, before quickly deciding that you looked good enough to be outside. Rushing to a window, you didn't waste any time opening it, grabbing onto a pipe that was exposed on the side of the building, closing the window, and sliding down the pipe until you reached the ground. Thanking your past self for having done that enough times to be used to it.

Knowing for a fact that you heard more knocks on your way down, you hurriedly rushed back into the apartment building and basically ran to the elevator. Thanking the gods that it had opened when you first called it, you rushed inside and hit the button for your floor. Hurriedly tapping on the button that closed the elevator doors as they slowly shut, as if that would make them move faster somehow.

As the elevator rose, you prayed that it wouldn't stop and that it'd go straight up to your floor, not knowing if you could afford to risk losing time like that. Especially when the thought of a certain vigilante breaking down your door because you didn't answer it, popped into your head.

Your hands were sweaty, your heart was racing, and you could hardly stand still as you waited for the elevator to reach your floor. Staring at the counter above the elevator buttons as if that'd make the numbers go up faster, and occasionally glancing at the doors as if they'd open at any moment. Questions and possibilities rushed through your head, but you hardly had any time to think about any of them as a small ding sounded, and the doors finally opened. Ignoring how the small sound made you jump a bit, you tried not to look too nervous as you stared at the hallway in front of you.

Oh god, you were really doing this.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you stepped out of the elevator and took a breath. Trying to calm down your heart a bit as you gathered your composure, and acted as normally as you could manage. Walking forward, you rounded the corner, and there he was in all of his tainted glory.

"Di- I- I mean, Nightwing?" You call out, trying to grab the vigilante's attention before he did anything rash — and you seem to have caught him at just the right moment. As he seemed just about ready to bust open the lock to your door, and break into your apartment. Which, he thankfully pulls away as he whips around to look at you, clearly surprised.

You were almost too grateful to have caught him just in time.

"What are you doing here?" You took a few steps forward, but nothing more. Not wanting your efforts to go to waste right away, even if you knew it was only a matter of time when it came to these guys.

"Oh! Y/n- hi! I didn't, um, I didn't see you there." Dick greets with a smile, acting oddly nervous, which makes you raise a brow. "How long have you been, uh, standing there?" He asks, probably trying to see if you saw how he was about to break into your apartment. You both know you did, but you could play dumb for now.

"Um, I just got back so… not long, I guess? Why?" You tilt your head to the side, taking note of how Dick seemed to visibly relax.

Was he always so… tense?

"No reason! I was just wondering, but, uh," He glances to the side before looking back at you, and taking in your appearance. He took in every little detail he could, and wow… you really were different from what he was expecting, but in the best way possible.

Your voice was different than he remembered, and everything about you was just so… fitting, even if he's never seen it before. Even if he didn't remember having seen the style of clothes you wore on you before, or seeing the accessories you had on your person either. You really look like you've grown up now and have become an adult, with your own sense of style and fashion. Having all these little ways to show how you've grown, and become more comfortable with yourself.

Dick couldn't help but love it as much as it hurt him.

"It's good to see you." He couldn't help but blurt out, smiling softly. Though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

You only fiddled with your sleeves, averting your eyes for a moment as you purse your lips into a thin line. The way he looks at you made you feel uncomfortable to say the least, and his whole demeanor was nothing you have seen from him before. Not directed towards you, anyway, and you couldn’t help but struggle trying to remember the last time he smiled at you in person. All you could remember was seeing his back turned towards you as he walked away, a flash of a pathetic smile showing on his face briefly before he continued walking forward. Never looking back...

Maybe you've just grown too familiar seeing his smile in photographs and painted pictures, instead of in person.

Yet, how he looks you over now — and seems to take in every detail he manages to find — isn't exactly making this the most comfortable situation to be in. You feel exposed, and rub your arm before stopping yourself. You couldn't afford to show signs of weakness or vulnerability. Not with him. Not while he was in the suit.

Taking in a short breath, you gave a small nod. Managing to look back at Dick, and push down your nerves. The last thing you want was for him to notice how you truly feel, and point it out, or feel some kind of obligation to do something about it. The last thing you need was for him to stick around for longer than he has to.

"Yeah, um, anyway- that didn't really answer my question…?" You hesitantly point out, unsure if you should've mentioned anything at all, but feeling the need to do so. Even if you rather not be in this position, you prefer this over him breaking down your door.

"Did something happen? I- I don't know how much help I can give since… y'know- I'm not a crime-fighting vigilante in latex, but I can see what I can do?" You try to joke a little, mostly for yourself and to further ease your nerves as a few small chuckles escape you. Yet it doesn't help as much as you would've liked.

Did they always scare you this much?

"Oh, no! No, no, no- nothing happened! I just wanted to, um, come see you, is all!" Dick admits, and even if that may have been enough reasoning for him, it wasn't for you. It just doesn't make sense, and maybe that was the years of being put off to the side — or almost outright ignored — talking, but you couldn't imagine him just randomly popping out of nowhere, just because he wants to see you. There has to be a reason, even if you don't know what that reason would be.

"By going to my friend's apartment…? That doesn't really make a lot of sense.. um, Nightwing."

"Oh. Uh, you don't live here?" It was so weird seeing someone like Dick be so openly nervous. Was he always like this? You couldn't really tell, but if there was something going on he wasn't hiding it very well. It was almost like he was trying to not mess up or something, but you don't know why.

"No… but I do visit often? I mean, that is why I'm here and everything-" A few nervous chuckles escape you as you scratch the back of your neck, once again averting your gaze. "If you want, we could talk over a cup of coffee? I know a good place nearby, and even if I'm sure you can't exactly dine-in or anything, I could just take it to-go or something." You hesitantly offer, getting the feeling that Dick wouldn't leave easily, and still thinking that if there really is something going on — you could give him a chance to talk about it, at the very least.

"Sure! Yeah! But, uh. Is that really a good idea? It could be dangerous, and I think it's for the best if we stay inside or go to your place instead." Dick suggests, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion.

"My place?"

"Yeah, I mean I would offer mine but Bludhaven isn't exactly close, y'know?" He snickers. Yet it only made you pause. The smallest bits of a bad feeling beginning to form in your stomach.

"I- I don't think that's a good idea…"

"But it's better than hanging around outside or something, right? This is Gotham, after all." You didn't like how Dick says that. Saying it like you didn't already know. Like you were ignorant of how bad the city you live in was, despite having experienced it first hand on multiple occasions.

"I know, but there has to be some other place we can talk, then just my place."

"Well, there is the-"

"No." You immediately shot it down, already feeling like you knew what he was going to say, "Not there. Let's- let me just grab the coffee first, and we can figure it out from there, alright?" You didn't want to deal with more than you have to, and you weren't going to go back. Not now. Not ever, if you could help it.

"Oh, sure! I'll just tag along," Dick said simply, almost as if it was obvious, as he smiles, approaching you casually.

"I-" You pause before just sucking in a breath and giving a small nod, a weak smile displaying itself on your face, "-yeah, sure. That- that works." Even if you don't want Dick to follow you, it is better than having him just stand at your door, anyway. Though you still aren't exactly comfortable with the idea, you didn't have many options.

"Great! I'll meet you outside!" Dick grins before leaving through the window at the end of the hall.

Now by yourself for a while, you exhaled deeply, not even realizing how long you've been holding your breath.

You aren't sure if you could do this, but you don't feel like you have much of a choice anymore as you just try to steady and calm down your racing heart.

Making your way back to the elevator, you try to not think too much about what's going on as you step back inside, and push the correct button, waiting for it to descend.

Your heart felt heavy in your chest, and despite how you try to ignore it – you could feel that something was wrong. Though you just chalked it up to how you aren't used to Dick talking with you, or smiling towards you – or really anything at all when it came to him. You tried to, anyway, but you were slowly beginning to doubt it.

There was something in his smile, and the way that he spoke that just felt strange to you. Even if you haven't had many conversations or interactions with him, you could still catch how different he seemed tonight. Though you weren't entirely sure. After all, you didn't know much about his personality or usual antics, just as he didn't know much about you as a whole.

On any other occasion you'd try to let it go, but doing so didn't feel right this time. It feels stupid, and almost as if you'd put yourself in more danger by trying to, so for now you'd just keep it in mind. Even if nothing came of it, at least you were being cautious, right?

You aren't sure, not entirely anyway. Since it was always hard to tell what is and isn't a good decision with Dick and the others, but you don't have much time to dwell on it as the elevator doors open once again.

All you could do was just hope that this would end as quickly as it started. For both your and Dick's sake, but mostly for your own.

Nevertheless, you step out of the elevator and make your way out of the building. There, you saw Dick leaning against a lamppost, before looking at you. The smile he gave only made the pit in your stomach grow bigger, but you tried to return the gesture the best you could.

Neither smile reached either of your eyes.

"So, you know where it is?"

"Yeah- it isn't too far from here. Just a few blocks away, it's not that far of a walk."

"Great! You don't mind leading, then?"

"No, um. I can lead."

"Perfect, let's get going then." Dick says, his smile growing a little bigger as he makes his way over, and stops beside you, waiting for you to lead the way.

You just gave a nod, taking a nervous step forward as you both began to walk. You knew the directions by heart at this point, and so you just let your own feet guide you along the streets of Gotham. With Dick following right along, humming under his breath.

An awkward silence fell over both of you.

You try to not think about it too much, knowing that the detail would only further bother you, and make you feel more nervous than you already are. So you drew your attention elsewhere, and focused on the city itself instead.

Not many people were walking about, which immediately struck you as odd since Gotham was always so lively despite how dangerous it is. Even if more people were out during the day, there were still lots of people who were out at night for one reason or another. Granted, most of them are dangerous, everyone knows that, but some just simply went about their business. The city was dangerous, but that didn't stop people from going about their lives. Even if it did make it easier for thugs and the like to hide within the crowds.

Still, the change was noticeable. Gotham wasn't exactly known to be quiet, let alone this inactive. It felt strange, and when you glance over to Dick, you couldn't help but feel a little surprised that he didn't seem all that bothered by the change. If anything, you were almost getting the impression that he hadn't noticed it at all.

So, you just keep looking ahead, and focusing on other things. Deciding to not comment on anything if Dick wasn't.

Yet you still couldn’t shake it.

The absence of sirens in the air and occasional gunshots didn't sit right with you, and even the amount of people driving by wasn't as much as it'd usually be. The city didn't feel busy, let alone as alive as it would've been on any other night, and it's bothering you. It's like some sort of silent evacuation is going on, or a lock down of some kind that not everyone was informed of. There were more whispers than there were shouts, and a kind of awkward peace, instead of striking violence and chaos.

You couldn't believe it, was this Gotham's first real quiet night?

CRACK.

Perhaps you spoke too soon.

A sickening crack sounded from somewhere within the city, the noise so loud and sudden that it immediately caught your attention, as you looked in the direction of where you heard it come from. You could've sworn you heard a scream that followed right after, only for it to swiftly get cut off.

It was only then did you really take a look around, and notice how the people you passed by looked equally tense and nervous. An unsaid, but shared feeling of tension and anxiety hung in the air, and now that you noticed it — you couldn't ignore it.

What didn't help was when you saw someone in an alleyway cocking their gun, only for them to swiftly get roped into the darkness, causing them to drop their weapon in the process. A sickening pop sounded, and then deafening silence followed. The only evidence that anyone had ever stood in that particular spot, was the gun the thug had dropped.

Through the shadows of the alleyway, and faint light from the moon, you could almost make out a figure in the darkness. Yet just as they turned to look at you, your eyes darted away.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Are… are you sure there isn't anything going on? It seems oddly… quiet, tonight." You point out hesitantly, small tingles dancing down your spine, and they were far from pleasant.

"Hm? Oh, well, I guess you could say something is happening, but the others are taking care of it." Dick reassures as he waves his hand dismissively. "Though that's why I think it'd be better if we talked inside. The last thing I want is for someone to eavesdrop on our conversation, and for you to get caught in the crossfire of everything." Yet you couldn't help but feel like it was a little too late for that.

Being associated with Dick, and the others — let alone being someone that they'd actually turn to for assistance or anything — already made someone prone to being caught in any crossfire that dealt with their vigilante work. Even if the person didn't get caught in between things by some miracle, it would be hard to ignore the newly painted target on their back. Being known for having a connection to Batman, and anyone he had taken under his wing one way or another, had its problems, and you already had to deal with your own fair share of trouble just for being known as another kid who got adopted by Bruce Wayne.

You wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly had to deal with more trouble just from this conversation alone, since word traveled around fast in Gotham, but you didn't want to think about that right now. You'd just deal with that when the time came, if it ever did.

Still, you didn't fully believe Dick. Your feelings of the situation becoming more messy, and unclear as you try to piece things together. You couldn't tell if what was going on was something to worry about, or stress over. Since Dick was acting so dismissively about it, and yet the effect it's having on Gotham was unmistakable. Is it big enough to cause the city to go quiet, but not dangerous enough to worry about? Or is it something else entirely?

You took a breath. Maybe it's best if you just think about it later. You already have enough on your plate as it is, and the biggest thing you have to worry about right now is Dick. All you have to do is find out what he wants, and handle things from there. That's it. That's all you have to do.

So, you nod hesitantly. Still not looking at Dick as you said, "Right. Okay. That… that makes sense, I guess," but your voice betrays you despite your best efforts as it wavered slightly. Still, you make sure to add, "but I still don't think it's the best to talk at my place."

Dick only gave a nod, saying, "Alright," and nothing else.

Your body refused to relax after that.

You still couldn’t shake the odd feeling you were getting from Dick, even if you couldn't exactly pinpoint what's wrong or where this feeling is coming from. The distant sounds of snaps, cracks, pops, and cut off shouts and screams in the distance didn't help much with that either. Especially when they weren't far, and sounded like they were only a few blocks away from you, with the distance slowly growing shorter each and every time a new sound echoed across Gotham. Especially when you realized that the snaps and cracks were the sounds of bones breaking, and the pops were joints getting dislocated. Which caused various memories to pop into your head that you tried to shove away.

Small beads of sweat began to roll down your neck. Your hands feel clammy, and you try to steady your breathing once you realize it was wavering again. You try to fix any outward reaction you notice you were displaying before Dick could catch on, fiddling with your sleeves as you try to reassure yourself.

You're going to be okay.

CRACK!

You're going to be fine.

SNAP!

You're going to make it through this.

POP!

You could tough it out.

"AAAHHH-!" CRUNCH.

This would all be over soon.

So, you try to ignore how the pit in your stomach continues to grow with each second that passes. How each sound causes you to tense, and sometimes jump the smallest bit, but you try to ignore that too.

You glance over to Dick once again, only to catch him immediately turning to face forward. The detail made you pause and furrow your brows, had he been looking at you?

You shove the thought to the side and face forward again as well. A weight of some kind begins to form in your chest, yet you still try to push on and keep walking.

Seconds turn into minutes, and it's only now that you fully realized how long this short walk felt. The sidewalks stretched on, and the streets never seemed to end. The traffic lights felt like distant glimpses of life and civilization that one would catch in fog, with the small amount of cars on the road not helping with that feeling. Dark clouds begin to form overhead, and cover the inky black sky. With the full moon looking down at you. Its sight pinned on you, staring in silence.

Maybe that's why you were so relieved when the diner finally came into view, and you found yourself holding back a sigh of relief. You had to stop yourself from running over, and rushing inside so that you didn't have to walk beside Dick anymore. Further reminding yourself of how awkward this whole experience has been for you thus far. Which didn't help with how you are feeling at all.

"How do you like your coffee?" You decide to ask, seeing as the diner was only a few steps away at this point.

"What?" Dick asks, seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he was in. With your question bringing him back to reality.

"Um, how do you like your coffee? Since, y'know. That's what we're here for?" You repeat, giving Dick a confused glance.

A look of realization flashed across Dick's face as a small 'ohh' left him. "Right, yeah. Uh," he stumbles at first before saying his preference, with you just nodding along.

"Okay, I'll just go inside and order so… you can just wait out here?" You said, unsure as you glance at the diner, only to look back at Dick.

"Yeah, I can do that." He agrees with a simple nod and small thumbs up. Making you nod as well as you took a breath.

"Right, okay. I'll just, um, head inside then." You exhale sharply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "It shouldn't take too long." You stop once you're in front of the door to the diner. Folding your hands into fists, squeezing your fingers and digging your nails into your palms, before releasing, letting your fingers relax, before repeating the process a few more times.

"Got it." Dick nods again, and you return the gesture as you open the door and step inside. Once again holding yourself back from letting out a sigh of relief, as you made your way over to the counter. A weight of some kind being lifted from your shoulders the moment the smell of food, and freshly brewed coffee hits you.

It's only when you reach the counter and see your friend did you finally sigh deeply, and heavily. You rest your arms against the counter and let your head hang low, a feeling of exhaust and fatigue slowly eating away at you. Not being in the immediate vicinity of Dick definitely made you feel exceptionally better, especially now that there’s a wall between you and him.

"Y'know, lots of people have been comin' in and sighing just like that, tonight." The waitress points out as she makes her way over to you. Her comment causing you to lift your head, and look at her. She gave you a little smile, amused by your antics, but you could see the little worry that hid behind her eyes.

"Really?" You ask, allowing yourself to relax a little, now that you were in the presence of a friend. You didn't see Jessica outside of the diner much, but that was never a problem since you've been a regular for a while now. You had met when you first began coming to the diner late at night for coffee since you couldn't sleep, coming around just when the place was about to close. It was only after a few more nights passed that you both began to talk, and really connect. You like to consider her one of your closest friends because of all she's done for you, and not just because she knows how to make your coffee just the way you like it.

"Yeah, it's kinda weird but there's seems to be somethin' going on tonight. So I guess it makes sense." Jessica says with a shrug, "Anyway, you want the usual, I'm assuming?"

You perk up at that, "Wait, you think something's going on too?" You couldn't help but ask, though made sure to also say, "Oh, and that'd be great. But I'll… um, take it to go this time, and I'll have another coffee for my…" you glance over your shoulder and look at Dick. He had his back turned to the window, and looked to be talking to someone with what you assumed to be his comm link.

You turn back to Jessica, a crooked smile on your face, "My acquaintance…?"

"I can't think of anyone who doesn't. Everyone can tell that something ain't right about tonight. Hell, even Jim looked bothered when he came in. I swore he was shakin' like a leaf, and looked like something was out to get him too." Jessica replies, writing down your order on her notepad mindlessly, already knowing it by heart.

"Jim? Like the commissioner?"

"Nope, I'm talkin' about the guy who came in from Metropolis."

"Oh." You said, before slowly nodding as you thought about it, "I guess that makes sense. Though, I didn't think that guy had a single nervous bone in his body, to be honest."

"Well, y'know what they say; Gotham changes people. It can even make people like him, who're barely present with the rest of us, get a little shaken up every now and again." Jessica hums, looking at what she has written down for a moment.

"Right… yeah."

Jessica sighs softly, looking at you with unsaid care and concern before speaking up again, "Anyway, does your…" she drags out the 'r' as she glances behind you, before looking back at you. Waving her pen in the air as she gestures towards the window, "'acquaintance' want anything else?"

"No, um. Just the coffee will do." You rub the back of your neck, making sure to mention how Dick said he likes his coffee. Jessica only gave a nod as she wrote it down.

"Alright, but I gotta ask. Is that guy bothering you?" Jessica asks as she starts to brew the coffee, shooting you a certain look, "I can get William to have a chat with 'im if he's causing you trouble. He won't like it, but he'll do it, y'know."

The question catches you off guard, but you quickly shake your head, and try to adjust the smile on your face to look less obvious. As much as you don't want to be in this situation, you at least want to hear Dick out. If there's even the smallest chance that he really does need something from you — you want to help. You don't want to be the reason why whatever is going on is prolonged any further, or if a solution they have is delayed.

Despite everything they've done to you, and the little they've given you throughout all of your life, you want to do this one last thing for them. That's all.

You could afford to do this one last time, you thought as much anyway.

"I'm fine, he- he isn't bothering me… I promise." You try to reassure your friend, mustering the most convincing smile you could as you watch her work. She clearly knew what she was doing, since it looked as if it came so naturally to her, and you wouldn't be surprised if it did, with all she's told you in the past.

"Well, alright. But if he does anything you can always shoot me a text or give me a call. I can't do much myself, but I know people."

You huff at her words, an easy smile making its way up your face as your shoulders relaxed, "I know. Thanks, Jess."

"Don't mention it. After all, I've gotta look out for the person who gives the best tips." She snickers, a smile of her own beginning to show itself. You can't help but laugh lightly as you just shake your head, and look away.

The soft tune of old melodies plays in the background, filling the space of the diner and washing away any awkwardness that may have been present otherwise. Some jazz begins to play, and you couldn’t help but tap your foot along with the rhythm, the voice of the singer taking all of your worries, and whisking them away.

The other customers are quiet for the most part, but seem at ease for the time being. The outside world almost seemed so far away despite being just past the windows, but there was some peace to be had with that. The street lights gave off a homey feeling with their soft orange hues spilling into the diner, the quiet from the outside only making this place feel more safe, in a strange way.

"So it's just for the money, huh? And here I thought you genuinely cared about me." You chuckle, fiddling with your fingers mindlessly.

"Of course I do. But I'd like to see you work in customer service and living off of tips," Jessica chuckles as well, "Maybe then you'd see how that's just me appreciating you more, hon'."

You just shake your head, "Right, whatever you say."

"I'm being serious, Y/n. Even the boss appreciates you, and your wonderful donations." Jessica snickers, beginning to pour the coffee into two cups.

"You make it sound like he runs a charity, and I'm a big donor."

"Of course he does! Except, y'know. It isn't your typical charity, and we gotta work our asses off to ‘give back to the people’. With your money making up about… hm, seventy-five percent of my paycheck?"

"Jess!"

"No, no. You're right, it's more like eighty-three. Maybe even eighty-five at a push." She laughs, giggling at the expression you make as you huff, before laughing a bit yourself.

You both continue to joke lightly, laughs and giggles being shared as Jessica makes your order, and you patiently wait. A light, soft sort of smile resting on your face, and you almost forget what had made you so tense in the first place. Which was one of the reasons you love this diner so much — it felt like a home away from home, even if it was only a few blocks away from your apartment. Jessica just added onto that comfortable vibe you got from this place, and your mind always felt so quiet when you're here.

It almost made everything feel like it'd be okay, and that as long as you remain inside, nothing bad could happen to you.

Unfortunately, it was only that. A feeling, and nothing more. Your current situation only made that detail all the more apparent.

"Welp, here you go. They're both hot and ready, so be careful, okay?" She smiles down at you before snickering, "Though you don't gotta tell the guy that if you don't want to."

You're confused for a moment, not entirely sure who Jessica was talking about until it suddenly hit you. Right, Dick.

You laugh along, but it wasn't as genuine as it was before, and died down much quicker. As if scared that he'd hear both of you from past the window now. The thought alone made you suddenly hyper-aware of his presence outside. "Right, yeah.."

Grabbing the two cups, you slide them towards yourself and stare down at them for a moment, finding yourself hesitating again. You don't know why you were taking so many pauses, but this whole thing just didn't feel right to you. Though you couldn't exactly pinpoint why, you knew the reason was different than why you were so awkward around Dick, and reluctant to talk to him.

"... Are you sure that guy isn't bothering you?" Jessica asks again, leaning against the counter as she places a hand over one of yours. You couldn't meet her eyes, knowing that if you did it'd just make things harder for yourself. So you look off to the side, unsure.

"Yeah!… He's just.. yeah." Was all you could really say. You don't want to say anything that would make Jessica worry more, but most importantly, you don't want to make it harder for yourself to leave. You got this far, would it really be alright if you leave now? If you took back the words you said, and just went back home? Probably not.

You hear Jessica sigh, causing your heart to feel heavier in your chest. "Look, I get it if you don't want me to get someone to handle him, but if you don't want to stick around, and don't want him to see- I can let you out the back." She offers, giving your hand a small squeeze. Trying to reassure you, and give you something to work with.

You perk up at her offer, looking back up at her in slight surprise, "Really?" You ask. The sense of hope and relief that washed over you didn't make you feel any better, and only furthered the conflict going on in your mind.

"Yeah. Especially if it'll get you away from that weirdo." She chuckles with a slight smirk, trying to lighten the mood a little.

You think about it for a moment, just looking at Jessica as countless thoughts rush through your head. Why did this have to be so complicated? Why are you making this so hard for yourself? The choice is so simple, so easy, and yet you just couldn't take it, but why?

You look back at Dick, and make eye contact.

You both stand there, staring at each other for a while, and the music playing in the diner suddenly didn't feel so comforting anymore. Your shoulders lost their weightlessness, and gravity seemed eager to try and pull you down to the floor.

Dick is the first to look away, presumably resuming his conversation with whoever he's been talking to this entire time, but you didn't. You don't.

Turmoil and conflict is clear in your eyes. You could see it through your faint reflection in the glass of the window that separates you and Dick. Which, from that alone, you begin to feel worse.

Even if you did leave, would that change anything? Would you be able to actually leave Dick? Or would he catch on? They already know where you live, and even if you managed to fool Dick momentarily, you doubt that he believes your little lie now if he is talking to the others. Yet if you went back to him, what would happen? Where would you both end up going?

You look back down at the two coffees, and sigh. Either way, you’re faced with uncertainty. If you left now, there's no telling if you'd actually be able to get away. Yet if you went back to Dick, you couldn't even imagine what would happen next. It felt like you were stuck in a lose-lose situation; having to pick between two different types of poison, and deal with whatever consequences that came with the kind you chose.

Holding the cups a little tighter, you think it over for another moment before shaking your head. Taking in a breath, and letting yourself calm down a bit.

"I think I'll be okay, but thanks for the offer, Jess." You gave her a little, appreciative smile, "I'll just message or call you if anything happens, like you said." Jessica didn't seem entirely sure of your decision, but nods anyway.

"Well, if you're sure, then alright. But the moment shit goes south, you know who to call."

You nod, and give her a small ‘thank you’ as you paid and left. Taking the drinks with you as you did so, the warmth of the diner slowly leaving you, and now being replaced with the cold breeze of the night.

"Sorry that took so long, I would've told you otherwise if I had known." You apologize as you turn to Dick, flinching at his close proximity. Since, you didn't realize just how close he had been standing to the door until now.

"It's no big deal! Besides, it didn't take that long." Dick said, dismissing your apology as he kept up that smile of his. You only nod, handing him his coffee, which he gladly took.

"If you say so.." You glance off to the side again, remaining quiet for a moment before looking back at Dick, "You were talking to the others, I assume?" You decide to ask, not exactly sure if you should've said anything, but you didn't see the harm in doing so at the moment.

"Hm? Oh, yeah! I uh, I was." Dick confirms with a small, awkward nod.

"Is… everything okay?"

"Yep! Things are going well. Great, even!"

"Oh. Alright then."

Another beat of silence passed over both of you.

You clutch the cup in your hands, its heat pinching and nibbling at your skin through the sleeve. You took a glance inside the diner, and noticed that while Jessica is doing her job, she's still shooting looks and glances your way past the window. She furrows her brows as you both made eye contact, and you could tell what she was going to do just from that alone.

You shake your head, and play it off as if you were just pushing a thought away once you look back at Dick, shoulders rising and almost locking into place as you try to stop your smile from dropping. Holding it at just the right height, and making sure it didn't look too crooked.

"So, um. How about we walk and talk? Just so that we're doing something instead of just standing around- y'know?" You suggest, a wry chuckle escaping you as your eyes wander off again.

"Sure, yeah! We can do that," Dick nods along, and you give a curt nod in return.

"Great!" You begin to walk off, only to be stopped by Dick as he grabs your sleeve, causing you to flinch a little bit. Whipping your head around to look back at him, your heart stopping for a moment as something flashed in your eyes, before it quickly disappeared.

For a split second, you look at Dick as if he was about to kill you, or something similar to that. Like he was going to hurt you in some unimaginable way by just trying to grab your attention.

Though Dick just pushed that little detail to the side, he couldn't help but keep it in mind. He didn't want to think about what it could mean, but couldn't forget it either. Since no matter how quick it was, or how short it lasted, just seeing that expression on your face and directed towards him — it hurt worse than any injury he could possibly receive in any shape or form.

He didn't want to believe what seemed to be the undeniable truth.

So, instead, he tucked it away in the back of his mind. Still managing some kind of smile as he looks at you, hiding behind a face of confusion.

"Isn't your place back that way?" Dick asks, gesturing behind him with a tilt of his head. He notices how you swallowed — taking note of how nervous and on edge you seem to be. He's known since he first saw you, but he didn't think anything of it. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want it to mean anything.

So he ignores it. Pushing it away until he can't see it anymore, despite it being so clear and right in front of his face.

He prays to every god he knows, and hopes to every heaven he's aware of — blind and ignorant to the fact that they have long since shut him out. The light and grace they'd give, forever out of his reach.

His little wishes couldn't help him now. Not when they never helped you.

"I-" You couldn't help but sigh, shaking your head and gathering your thoughts, before speaking again, "I already said that I don't think that it's a good idea to talk there, Dick. And I don't think it's smart to have this conversation here either- so let's just walk as we try to figure this out. Please?" Your weak smile begins to strain as you take a step back, grabbing Dick's hand and tugging him toward you. You hope he'll listen, if only this one time.

Dick looks to the side, unsure as he weighs his options before looking back at you, and suddenly he's hit with all the convincing he needed.

You look at him pleadingly, almost silently begging for him to comply and just come along with you. The moon, albeit partially covered thanks to the dark clouds passing overhead, lit up your eyes in such a way that further emphasized the emotions you were feeling, but left unsaid. How the internal conflict and struggle you were experiencing, made the color in your irises shine that much brighter, and how such a little thing took Dick's breath away.

Suddenly, for a moment, he realizes how soft your hand was in his, despite the fabric of his glove in between them. Even if it is just for that split second, he can't help but… love it. Love you. So how can he say no? How could he say no when he's slowly beginning to see all of these little things about you in a different way? When his guilt was slowly shifting to something else? Something worth trying for?

How can he deny such a little request from his little sibling? Especially when you look at him like that? He can't. So he didn't. Unable to stop the soft but partially happy smile that grew on his face.

You found it uncanny and misplaced, but he found it fitting and refreshing in a way. A way he hadn't felt before — not in a while, anyway.

"Sure, alright. Let's get going then!" Dick replies after a second of silence had passed, holding onto your hand and walking beside you when you began to move again.

You didn't say anything this time, just nodding as you focused on walking away from the diner.

Yet, Dick couldn't help but look back at the establishment. Curious as to why you wanted to move on from it so quickly, and wanted to see if he could catch anything in particular that might've caused it. Not that Dick was complaining by any means, but he couldn't help his own curiosity.

It was then that Dick and the waitress from inside the diner made eye contact. Causing Dick to narrow his eyes, and the waitress doing the same back with a certain look in her eyes.

He didn't like it, and even if the impression he's getting was far off the mark, he didn't care enough to change it.

Yet, when you and Dick pass the diner, your phone suddenly vibrates.

Oblivious to how Dick's gaze lingered on the diner for a little while longer — or how he was even looking back at all — you fish your phone out of your pocket once you shake Dick’s hand off mindlessly, not thinking too much about the action as you check your notifications.

There, you saw that Jessica had left you a message.

['Be careful with that one. I'd watch your back if I were you, hon.']

You were confused to say the least, but before you could think to respond, Dick turned back to you and suddenly spoke. Smile ever present, eyes trained on you.

"So, where are we going?"

"Oh- um, I'm not entirely sure." You admit, pocketing your phone quickly without much thought. Hoping Dick didn't see what the text said, but you didn't count on it. Not much slipped past him or the others in any given situation, not unless it was something dealing with you. Though, with his attention on you now? You couldn't be too sure of what he would and wouldn't notice. Not anymore.

After all, just knowing that he could see you now, and is actually talking with you, along with the fact that you've been in his space for over a minute was… a new experience. You didn't think you'd get this far — you never have before, and so this was all new territory for you. All you knew, and could gather from how things were going thus far, was that slipping away wouldn't be as easy as it was before. Not with his eyes trained on you like they were now.

"Well, that's fine but we still shouldn't stay out for long. It isn't safe." Dick pointed out again, causing you to sigh and nod your head.

"I know, but I still-" you cut yourself off, and took a quick breath before continuing, "it doesn't feel right going back to my place. Besides, not many people are out tonight… and as weird as that is- at least not many people will be around to eavesdrop on our conversation, if we did talk out here." You said, shrugging your shoulders, and taking a slow but small sip of your coffee. It burned your tongue, but at least it gave you something else to think about.

"That doesn't exactly make Gotham any less dangerous, and besides- those who are walking around, and are still out and about, could be from a worse crowd. You should know that, Y/n." Again, you didn't appreciate how he spoke to you like that. Talking as if you were ignorant to that possibility, or just generally unaware that Gotham was a bad place filled with even worse people.

"I do, I'm just saying-" you try to defend yourself, looking at Dick before immediately looking away. You don't like how he looked at you, and how much taller it made him appear, "Gotham isn't just filled with criminals, and besides… most people look like they're rushing to get home anyway." You comment, noticing how a group of people — presumably friends or roommates, maybe even 'coworkers' to a certain degree — rushed inside what appeared to be an apartment building. Along with how a family quickly got inside of their house, ushering their kids inside before hurriedly closing the door behind them.

"It's like some kind of apocalypse is going on…" You mutter, narrowing your eyes at the sight, before just focusing your attention back on the sidewalk ahead of you. You didn't recall getting a memo of any kind, or an alert if something like that was really going on. Though, your best bet to figuring anything out was unfortunately through Dick, by the looks of things.

Dick rubs the back of his neck, a strange feeling of nervousness, and something close to embarrassment, radiating off of him as he chuckled. The strange detail caught your attention, causing you to look at him and notice that his smile had become uneven, before he fixed it when he noticed you were looking.

You couldn't help but raise a brow, silently questioning Dick with your eyes, a small hint of suspicion growing behind your gaze.

Dick just shrugs, fixing himself the very next moment, which only causes you to narrow your eyes. Were they actually causing some kind of apocalypse? Surely not… right?

"Then that's just all the more reason why we should head inside too." Dick said, giving your hand a soft squeeze. Forcing you to acknowledge that you were holding hands once again – but when did he grab it? You don’t remember feeling him hold it again until now… but that wasn’t important, not now anyway, "I don't want anything bad to happen to you, Y/n. I'm just worried."

You grew quiet at that, a mix of emotions beginning to swirl around in your chest before you just shove it to the side. You couldn't tell if he was joking or trying to be genuine….

Though, your heart and mind seemed to agree that he wasn't being serious, and maybe that's why you didn't like how he looked at you.

Taking your hand back once again, you shook your head dismissively, "You're a vigilante, right? One of Gotham's finest, and looking over Bludhaven at that- if anything happens I'm sure you can handle it." Huffing, you add, "Even then, I can handle myself."

Dick's eyes linger on you for a little longer. The hand that had been holding yours twitched, and he kept it there for a second before letting it drop to his side, his smile beginning to die down before he sighed. "Still, I think it'd be better if we tried to avoid something like that all together."

"I think it'd also be better if we could avoid something like that happening at my place."

"It won't, not with me around."

"So now you're confident that nothing will happen?" You laugh lightly, more air escaping you above all else, and disbelief clear in your eyes and tone. "You can't be sure. Someone could follow us there and find out where I live."

You snicker again, not fully believing that you were actually having to tell Dick all of this, "I mean, it might not matter much to you but-"

"It does matter to me. I don't want you to get hurt, or anyone else to come after you." He took another breath, and you bite your tongue. Reframing from mentioning how it was a little too late to be saying that now. "Look, I understand if you don't want to go back to where you're staying, but if that's the case then we can just got to the-"

"No." You speak up before he could even finish. Already knowing what he was going to say, and the mere thought of going back to that place made you feel uneasy. Causing you to clutch your cup with both of your hands, barely registering its heat.

"I didn't even get to say where…" Dick sighs again, just pushing the detail to the side for the moment, "Can you at least tell me why? I don't see why we shouldn't."

"It just-" You didn't want to say it outloud. Not out here. Not with him around, and listening to every word that fell out of your mouth. "I just don't think that's smart either. Again, someone could follow us back there and find out about… you know."

"Well, then someone else could just take you back-"

"Wouldn't that seem suspicious if someone saw, though?"

"Now you're worried about being seen?"

"Like you weren't before-"

"Y/n, please. We can't just stand around here and talk about stuff all night. Either way, we have to go somewhere." Dick tries to reason, adding on, "Look, if you don't want to go to your place or the 'other' place, how about we just-"

"No."

"I didn't even get to finish!"

"I know what you were about to say, and just-" You took a breath of your own, sweat rolling down the back of your neck as your hands began to shake a little bit. Your nerves were getting to you. You could feel it with how your chest became heavier, and how it was getting progressively harder to continue walking — as if your feet were slowly sinking into the cement below you.

"I don't think it'd be the best to go there either." You mutter, looking off to the side.

"Why? I can sort of understand the 'other' place-" he didn't, but in his attempt to get through to you, he said otherwise, "but why not there? Again, we can't just wander around all night and talk out in the open like this, Y/n. You should know better than that." Dick states, furrowing his brows as his gaze remains pinned on you, never once looking away.

You wish he would. By the Gods did you wish he would look away just once. Yet such a blessing had yet to be given, if it would ever come.

With every second that passed, your doubt only grew.

"I just don't see why we can't go to any other places? Somewhere that isn't personal, or technically considered to be personal since it could reveal your identity and such- and I don't think I have to give reasons why someone knowing where I live, or used to live, would be bad too- but… yeah. Just-" You gather your thoughts, looking down at your cup of coffee for a brief moment, "Just somewhere that isn't necessarily connected to either of us, or could reveal potentially personal or sensitive information on one or both of us? Like the park, or some random rooftop…? You guys still have talks up there, right?" You manage to slide in a little joke, but the laugh you gave is more awkward and nervous than anything, so you just clear your throat and continue.

"Or- or just an abandoned building or something? If you still really want us to be inside? Since Gotham has some of those… maybe too many of them- but that's besides the point." You try to suggest, hesitant to even say anything but managing somehow regardless.

You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at Dick – so you missed how his brows creased, and his smile was just barely holding up. His hand twitches again, but he tries to stay mindful of the coffee he's still holding.

"Are you serious?" His tone made you press your lips into a thin line. Your nails begin to dig into the sleeve of your cup. "I get that you're paranoid, but are you serious right now? Y/n, c'mon." An odd warmth began to bloom in your chest at Dick's words. It was far from pleasant, and lit like a match, with the flame itself bursting to life. It started much larger than you were used to, and controlling it was more difficult than you expected.

"I'm just saying…"

"Saying… what? That we either stay out in the open where anything can happen, or a clearly dangerous place where we're most likely going to get jumped? 'Cause if that's what you're saying, then I don't even know what to say, Y/n." Dick really can't believe you right now. Just how long have you been living in Gotham, exactly? Who were you even living with? He couldn't understand what you were thinking suggesting such a thing.

He had a feeling you may have been unaware of the true dangers of Gotham, since he and the others had kept you away from such things – from what he could tell. Not to mention that you didn't have any intention of becoming a vigilante yourself, from what he remembered, but for you to turn out like this? He had no idea you were so oblivious, and if he had before, he never would've let you out of that apartment building. He never should've to begin with, clearly.

"No! Of course that's not what I'm saying!" You couldn't help but yelp in surprise, finally looking at Dick as you held your coffee closer to your chest. You felt offended that he honestly thought you'd think something so stupid, but you didn't know what was worse. How he didn't seem convinced, or how he looked as if he believed himself more than you.

"Then…?" Dick drags on, gesturing for you to give an explanation. Almost daring you to say something that proved him wrong, or went against his point.

You huff harshly, the warmth in your chest beginning to turn hot as you went on to say, "I'm just saying why can't we go anywhere else, that isn't technically connected to you or me in some way?"

"... And your solution to that is to go to a public area, stay out in the open but on the rooftops, or go to one of the abandoned places around Gotham where something bad will definitely happen?" Dick rose a brow, with you restraining yourself from rolling your eyes. Instead, you manage a sigh – smile long gone from your face.

"Those were just examples, Nightwing." You hold back a scoff, clutching your cup a little tighter, "We don't actually have to go to any of those places, or do those things. I was just trying to suggest ideas, not say; 'Hey, we should go to that one place by the bay that's been abandoned for around five years and have our talk there. Since surely nothing will happen, and a gang totally doesn't hang around that area.' Or something like that."

"That's oddly specific," Dick gave you a questionable look before shaking his head, "but still. Those places and areas aren't safe. At least the places I suggested are, and if something happens, then there's security measures in place for that."

"How do you know if my place is secure or not?"

"Are you trying to say that it isn't?"

"No- but it's not like I have a super complicated system or hypersensitive security like- y'know. The other places. So what would make my place so safe?"

Dick sighs, "Fine. Alright, maybe your place isn't our safest bet right now. Even if I feel like I can definitely handle protecting a single apartment." You didn't even bother to say anything, just rolling your eyes and shaking your head instead.

"I don't want anything to happen to my place, Nightwing."

"You really don't think I can't defend one room?"

"I don't live alone, D- Nightwing. I don't just have myself or my things to worry about." You couldn't help but say, scoffing under your breath. However, Dick could only blink, a little confused.

"You… have a roommate?"

"Yeah? Who do you think I was referring to when I said I was visiting a friend?"

"Oh! I thought that was a complete lie. I guess that makes sense, but why would you need a roommate anyway? Does your job not make enough money or-"

"Does that really matter right now?" You gave Dick a pointed look, hoping that he would take the hint and drop the subject, "We're trying to find out what the fuck to do, not delve into my personal life."

"Alright, fine- no need to get all worked up." Dick put his free hand up to show that he wasn't trying to start anything, and was trying to keep this peaceful and civil, "But why don't we just go to one of the other two areas? They're secure, and I'm sure your friend won't get hurt if something ends up happening while we're there."

You open your mouth to say something, only to shut it and look away. You clutch your cup a little tighter.

How could you tell Dick that you just don't want to be in the manor again, and that you didn't want to go back — without actually having to tell him? How do you tell Dick that you don't feel comfortable being in a space where you knew the rest of them would be, and that you'd rather have to just deal with him than anyone else? That you had a bad feeling about going to any of those places with him, and you don't trust him or the others at all?

You'd rather avoid going to the manor if you could help it, and you had more than enough reasons for feeling that way. Though, would Dick understand? Would he accept your reasons, and see why you wanted to go somewhere else? Maybe not, and even if he did understand, there was no guarantee that he would value your personal comfort over your 'safety'. There was no guarantee that he still wouldn't try and get you to agree with him.

You also wanted to avoid going to the clock tower. Seeing as just dealing with Dick was… difficult, to say the least, and if you could barely handle one — you couldn't imagine what it'd be like to handle another. Since there was bound to at least be someone else at the tower, just waiting for you to arrive.

The thought alone made you feel uneasy.

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

[Chapter 3, part 2]

#yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #gn reader #yandere dc #platonic yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere dc x reader #yandere dick grayson #not series

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808airsoftbros · 11 months

Text

My Girlfriend is a Mafia Boss Pt.III (Shen Xiaoting)

Author: To check out more of my stories you can take a look at my Masterlist

Xiaoting’s POV

Once I’ve gathered all of my best guys into my office, I briefed them all of their mission, and their objectives. At first, they were surprised to find out that I’m hiring them to kidnap a simple boy for the sake of his safety.

“Are you sure this is necessary, madam? He’s just a boy,” One of my men questioned.

“I’m paying you all to do a job, not ask questions. Is that understood?” I sternly asked and he nodded.

“Welp, as long we’re getting paid, who cares?” One of the men mentioned and I grinned.

“Good, that’s what I like to hear from you, but remember I want him alive, and if I find a single scratch on him, I’ll deduct half of your shares,” I warned and they nodded.

Leaving my office, I looked at the photo that I took of Y/N while we were eating at the restaurant yesterday.

I don’t know what came over me when I first saw him at the grocery store, something about him drew my attention, and I felt the need to protect him from all dangers of society.

Please forgive me, Y/N, but this is for your own good...

Y/N’s POV

Yet another boring shift at the store as it was very slow because it wasn’t a busy hour as mostly everyone was working.

Taking this free time to work on the back stock, there was little to do there as the shelves were full and I didn’t want to cram them or else I’ll look ugly.

Anyway, I sat in the back out of camera range going through Instagram on my phone to pass the time.

That was until I heard multiple footsteps walking inside the back but I paid no mind as it was probably my co-workers... Or so I thought.

Glancing up, I got a glimpse of a group of men wearing trenchcoats and sunglasses and they were walking around like they were searching for something or someone.

“Fan out! Once you’ve got visual confirmation of the package, call us, and will converge to your position!” One of them ordered and they split up.

Shit looks like they’re seeking something and they do not look friendly at all. Hiding behind one of the shelves in the warehouse and I see a man examining the area.

“Hmm... No sign of the target here, moving on,” The man confirmed and left me alone making me sigh in relief.

Peeping out of the shelve to make sure the coast was clear, I quietly get out of the shelve and head to the nearest fire exit.

Unfortunately, the fire exit was closed to two of the thugs keeping a sharp eye out, so I needed to create a distraction or find some sort of weapon.

Looking around the warehouse for any objects I could improvise as a weapon, I examine the tool drawer and grabbed the hammer.

“Yes, now I might stand a chance,” I said to myself.

“Hey, stop right there!” I heard a man bark and I turned around to face the man.

“You’re coming with me!” He said and I swung the hammer at his head.

The impact of the hammer made him crash into one of the shelves making all the can goods collapse onto his body.

Making a run for it, I was stopped by two more thugs this time armed with brace knuckles.

“Hold on, we cannot hurt him, not even a scratch, you heard what the boss said, right?” He asked and he sighed.

“Fine, but this better be worth all of the trouble!” He replied.

The boss? Who the hell are they talking about? I didn’t do anything to anyone so why are they sending thugs to kidnap me?

Anyway, I swing the hammer all over the place and they backed away at a safe distance and I continued to run.

“Stop him!” One of the men yelled.

Bursting through the fire exit, the fire alarm automatically went off grabbing the attention of everyone including the thugs pursuing me.

Fucking hell, I gotta lose them or else God knows what’s going to happen to me if they catch me.

Taking the car keys out of my pocket, I unlock the car, got inside the driver's seat insert the key into the ignition switch but the damn rust bucket wasn’t starting.

“Start you pile of shite!” I yelled as I kept turning the key.

However, it was no use as the windows busted open as the thugs swung a baseball bat at the window and dragged me out of the car.

“Enough games, kid... Tie him up,” He ordered and the men tied my arms and legs.

They carried me to their van, opened the back doors, and threw me in the back. I started to fear for my life as it was over and I wondered what I did to deserve this.

Hearing the engine turn on, we were on our way to who knows where, probably someplace that is far from civilization.

“Good call sabotaging the engine. Otherwise, we would have to charge the boss more,” I heard them.

“Haha! Piece of cake and easy money grab,” He replied.

Damn, so that’s why my car wouldn’t start in the first place because one of them must’ve done something to the engine.

About twenty minutes later, the van stops, I heard the men step out of the vehicle and open the doors.

One of them dragged me out of the back, untied my ankles allowing me to walk, and they harshly pushed me signaling me to get moving.

Following the group of thugs to what appears to be a luxury mansion surrounded by a garden and a security gate.

The leader goes up to the gate and hits the doorbell, the security camera focuses on him and the gates open.

Greeting us, was another group of men dressed in all black, wearing security earpieces, and sunglasses as one of them held a briefcase.

“Hand over the package,” The guard ordered.

“Nu-uh, money first,” The thug replied.

The guard holding the briefcase comes forward, unlocks the hatches revealing millions of won to verify it was all legit, and closes it.

“If that’s enough assurance, hand him over, and will take it from here,” The guard ordered and the thug pushed me towards them.

The guard hands over the briefcase full of money to them and shuts the gate in front of them.

“This way, Mister Kim,” The guard directed and I followed him.

Walking through the garden, it was well kept, and surely whoever the owner is, must be hella rich.

Once we reached the entrance, the standing guards opens the door for us, and we walk through.

I was mesmerized by how fancy this place looked, chandeliers, maids working in the mansion, and of course a staircase.

We walked up the stairs, passed by many doors that lead to all sorts of rooms I assume, until we reached a double door.

The guards opened the door, gestured for me to go inside, and I did what they say as there were no escape routes.

At first glance, it was a huge office, there was a fireplace, bookshelves, and even a large window giving a view of the garden outside.

“Please have a seat,” A feminine voice said.

Taking a seat in front of the strange dark figure sitting in the shadows, I was deeply unsettled as to what this woman has planned for me.

“I hoped my hired bodies didn’t leave a mark on you bringing you here... Did they?” She creepily asked and I gulped.

“N-No, I’m perfectly fine,” I answered.

“Great, now that’s out of the way, next would introducing ourselves, but won’t be necessary in this case... Right, Y/N?” She asked as she came into the sunlight revealing her figure.

“N-Noona?! Y-You did this?!” I exclaimed and she giggled.

“Yes, I did, but it was the only way to keep you from harm's way of my rivals, it was my fault to drag you into this situation, I should’ve known that those scumbags are always watching me and I was certain that they about you so I’m taking responsibility for my mistakes by bringing you here for protection.” She explained.

“W-Why from them? What are you?” I frantically asked.

“Because... I’m the boss of the biggest mafia clan in the entire country! Many want me dead so they can take my place and have all of the power to themselves. I have enough manpower to start my criminal empire and not even the government can’t stop me since they’re so easy to bribe.” She answered and my eye widened.

“N-No way! You’re lying!” I accused and she scoffed.

“Ever heard of the notorious criminal, the Death Angel?” She asked and I nodded.

“Y-Yeah, it’s all over the news,” I answered.

“Well, you just so happened to be talking to her~,” She replied as she reveals the tattoo on her chest and it’s the same one that I saw on the news.

“I-Impossible...” I softly said and she sighed.

“Right, I’m sure this is a lot to take in so will things slowly but for now, I promise you will be safe here as long as you do exactly as I said, understand, darling~?” She asked and I gulped.

#Shen Xiaoting #xiaoting #kep1er Xiaoting #kep1er scenarios #kep1er #kpop #kpopidol #kpop yandere #Kpop yandere oneshot #x male reader #bxg #kpop oneshot #yandere

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trashlama · 1 year

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How would. Rise! Raph react to kiddnaping reader as a little sibling and they stay silent almost always they don't resist anything and sleeps almost all day? (platonic)

Thank you for the request!

This is my first one so please, bare with me.

I wasn't a hundred percent sure if you meant like a one shot/drabble/headcanons or somethin' so I just winged it. It's basically a combination of the three.

Honestly I literally wrote this in one night as soon as I got home from my errands. Probably could been proof read some more but, say-la-vee

Sorry everyone for it taking so long for the Future!Yan!Rise!Raph fic a lot of stuff happened the last few weeks. I had an idea, wrote a good portion, accidentally pressed the wrong button and it didn't save. So I tried to rewrite it but, I've just decided to go another direction with it. Then also of course work/famila obligations.

Sorry for all the blabber, let's get on with the show!

The meme in this fic is not mine I just found it on Pinterest and it twas too good.

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Raph at first would just roll with it. You weren't escaping and not technically defying him in anyway. Actually you were very compliant, non-combative nor aggressive towards him and his hovering. Just quiet and lethargic. Routinely sleeping away days and nights despite the abundance of rest you've received. Only waking when the eldest Hamato sibling came to feed you or smuggling you between the washroom and the large dog cage he kept you in his chambers. Dude literally gives you the same vibes as Toma from the otome game/anime Amnesia. Like brah. Tell me nah.

TBH— I wouldn't be as compliant by any means necessary. Personally when I'm in a dangerous situation like that thanks to my formative years I'm very prone to fighting. It was survival for the fittest when my mother was at work and my older siblings didn't play nice. But, for fics sake I would see the reader tryinna' play it safe.

Like for real, tell me if you were say fifteen, young teenage kid walking down a random cruddy block in NYC just tryinna' to get home so you decide to take a short cut through some alleys. I mean I can't be the only one to take the backways to get around faster. Anyways—

Your just takin' the short cut you usually do when you're tryinna' get home and of course you get cornered by a trio of mixed species thugs. A duo of armed shabby dressed homosapiens backing up a fella who looked like a cross between a pig and a dog. A fugly mix breed who despite his fluffy brown wagging tail was definitely not a good boy. Proven by the mutant freak of nature's thumb claw hovering above your jugular.

The pickering between the three revealed that someone was paying them to do this. Because apparently you were close to somebody. An individual who he and his brother's pissed off the wrong eight-legged hotel boss. A political mystic city power with plenty of connections who was paying for blood.

The reason you my lucky reader are in the middle of this?

Because according to the barking accusations from the mutant mutt that threatened you. You knew one of the people in the targeted group.

The hell you did!

Finding this shit out literally leaves you speechless at first unsure how to deny such claims of comradity. Especially when they reveal when you try to reject the prosecution that their intel describes a red clad ninja being in your vicinity numerous occasions. Following you, watching you, inside your home.

The last one shook you. Unsure how to describe the feeling of the information your brain was processing. The pointed tip of the pig-dog thug's claw keeping you aware of the position you were in.

You were gonna die just because some creeper ninja dude who apparently has been by definition stalking you. And worse of all you didn't even know who you curse for your pending execution.

Ooonnnlllyyy for edged stars to start flying, successfully spooking the two humans. Only further shocking you by their reveal. Flipping forwards revealing two chunky tanukis. Leaf and all perched proudly on their foreheads. The cross breed mutant who had pinned you kept his grasp around your neck. Releasing you upon the arrival of their snaggle toothed party crasher.

Mama Bear vibes to the max. The teenage snapping turtle was quick to dispose of the twin yokais with his tonfuas. Slamming the ends of the wooden defensive tools into the crown of one demon and the under jaw of the other. Effectively K.O.ing the yokai duo.

Upon his backups' defeat the canine swine pounced. Squealing as he charged the alligator snapping turtle.

Which provided the chance for you to flee. Not caring to look back. You don't see what ends up going down. Grunts and growls echoing in the disappearing distance.

Like the final girl in the horror movie you stop for some reason. Feeling that the coast was clear just because you were some distance away from the bizarre scene you had been wrapped up in. In shock of the combination of school yard rumors of mutants being proven true and the knowledge that out there you had a stalker.

2.5 seconds later Raph is back on your ass. You had been about to scream when the turtle's large three fingered grip quickly covered your mouth. Well more like the bottom half of your face.

In a jumble of words the eldest Hamato tried to communicate. Fumbling as he apologized for the rough treatment you had received. Wide ash colored orbs appearing to scan you for any signs injuries.

Unsure of what was happening you began to back pedaled slowly. Thanked the towering spikey shelled mutant for his deed as you mentioned how late it was. Cutting the thank yous short with a excuse of needing to head home. Only to be stopped by the Mad Dog crew leader stepping into your path. Raphael easily blocking you into the alleyway with nothing more than just his domineering stature.

"Sorry little bud but,.... I don't think you can go back to that place...." Raph spoke softly. Carefully creeping forward. Three digit hands at his sides ready to snatch you up. Approaching in the same manner you would to try to catch a hare.

"Though don'tcha go worrin'! Yer-a gonna be livin' with yer real family now!" Raph quipped happily. Closing in faster than you would give a mutant his size credit for.

And like that the turtle had you.

So yeah I can see why in captivity the reader would choose this tactic. Though again personally— wouldn't be my default.

Obviously there is no way you can out run nor beat a six foot nothin' mutant ninja turtle. Literally bein' a smart cookie you just play the game.

The requester didn't specify if the reader is defeated or anything. So I'm just rollin' with the idea that the reader is being passive aggressive. Choosing to "sleep" all day and not bothering to dignify your mutated "elder brother's" questions/comments.

You rather ignore the snapping turtle's presence than give him the satisfaction of playing out his delusional game of house. You weren't his long lost relative. You nor your mother knew any man named Lou Jitsu. He was wrong. But, despite your retorts, the eldest refused. Somethin' about how DNA doesn't lie and Donnie told him so.

If you ever got to meet this Donnie you might kill him for the hell you've been wrung through.

For a minute this method works. You refused to perform. Rejecting the role the eldest Hamato sibling deemed you fit to play.

But, after a month Raph had enough.

He wasn't playing your game anymore.

At first the red clad leader just thought you were being grumpy. Being a little bratty about being told no about something so this was your tantrum. Your punishment for him.

You wouldn't talk, wouldn't acknowledge him even when he knew you were awake and not asleep. Only responding in shakes and nods of your head whenever prompted. May it be about preference of food or if you needed to use the restroom. You were just so difficult. Choosing to be an ungrateful child instead of the caring younger sibling he knows you could be.

Eventually his patience wore thin. He had tried to be the cool patient understanding older sibling that you could rely on and look up too. But you just wouldn't! You wouldn't even give him a moment of your time.

That's why he does what he does.

Fed up Raph would definitely decide to give you a taste of your own medicine.

For the next few weeks Raph ignores you. Fulfilling the bare minimum necessities for your survival before throwing a blanket over your cage. Like an owner tired of their squawking aviary friend.

You didn't think much of this but, after awhile the constant darkness and the lack of other sentient contact your unwavering will started to squirm.

Little over a week later you began to call out to the world past the blanket that kept you apart. You knew your voice wouldn't reach the other inhabitants of the lair— having already tried that in the beginning— but, you still tried to make contact. Even if it was your red clad capture who responded.

But there was no answered.

By week two you began trying to make conversation with Raph whenever he had shuttled you between his room and the facilities. But he wouldn't react. Not even sparing you a glance as he restrained your dominant arm uncomfortably behind your back as he ushered you along to and fro destinations.

By the end of the month you've finally become antsy. Rattling the metal structure of the canine confinement that Raph DIYed. Using your knees and back trying again to break out of the cage.

You couldn't keep doing this isolation business anymore. Angry hot tears slid down flustered red (skin tone) cheeks sloping over the frown that allowed your heaving chest to catch small breaths. Choking on frustrated sobs as you banged your back into the top of the cage. Hoping to make it break apart.

You just needed to be free. This was worse than any grounding or detention you had ever faced before. Twas torture.

Minutes passed and you had given up. Sweat mingling with tears as they dropped down your skin. Taking a pause on the jailbreak due to the shaky ache of your depleted strength. Two months sitting crunched up in the large dog kennel cause your unused muscles to deflate. Muscle atrophy taking its toll. Evident of the new development based on your newly acquired set of string bean arms and legs. If the current conditions you were kept in continued soon enough you wouldn't even have enough strength to walk, let alone even stand. You weren't interested in crawling everywhere to get around.

At this point when you finally give in and start calling for just Raph. Begging him to not leave you here. Those were the magic words to return the snapping turtle to your side.

Though his chest ached upon revealing your sniffling expression. Raph would be proud of himself for holding out and not ending the punishment. Despite the many times he was tempted to.

He needed you to learn he can throw a fit too.

Upon seeing your teary weakened state the red clad bandana wearing turtle would definitely be quick to pull you into his arms.

Big Brother/Mother Hen mode activated.

Cooing Raph swayed you both side to side. Rubbing circles into your back as you cried into the kidnapping snapping turtle's plastron. Your feeble body held up solely by the eldest Hamato's arm. If he chose to let go you would without a doubt tumble to the floor. Like a puppet snipped of it's strings.

" I'ma sorry ya' had to go through that but, ya' needed to learn that you can't just ignore someone without exceptin' the same results back... " Raph explained as he felt your blunt nails dig into the leaf green muscle of his biceps. Sobs racking your chest as he continued.

" Ya' needed to learn to treat da' people around you how ya' wanna be treated. "

With a small fanged smile the turtle observed your smaller trembling figure. At the newest teary-eyed addition to his family. Maybe soon if your lesson truly does stick maybe you could finally meet the rest of the fam.

Though Raph shouldn't assume. He would have to wait. Couldn't rush into this anymore than he already has. He just wanted to tell the rest of the gang already. But, he had to wait. Like his father says patience is a virtue. He will see the fruits of his efforts as long as he stays diligent at helping you with the transition.

Staring into bleary pools of (e/c) that rose to meet his pondering smoke colored gaze Raph was certain.

With just a little more tough love you'll become the perfect little sibling.

He just knew it.

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¶¶CREATOR'S NOTES¶¶

Thank you guys for reading this!

I will have that Future!Yan!Rise! Raph done eventually. It's just I want to make sure I like it and it feels appropriate for the eldest Hamato brother. So please bear with me!

Thank you again for the request it was interesting to write! I'm always open for requests so unless specifically stated otherwise. They shall be ooppeeennn!

I hope you guys enjoy your weekends!

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stupid-sloot-headcanons · 9 months

Note

Since you're open for request, can you write for yandere Shin( noncon pls, pretty please? 🥺🙏) from Dorohedoro with f!darling?

I'm a fan from Vietnam and i love your post so much. Thank you for open the request 🫴🌷

(I only know one phrase in Vietnamese but Cảm ơn 😚)

Shin strikes me as someone who would be attracted to a Darling with a bit of gentleness to them. They don't necessarily have to be a civilian, but he just appreciates a soft calming and gentle presence in his life (which is normally filled with violence and death).

Even if they can fight or they have strong Magic, he's going to be extra protective. Once he meets her and develops those feelings for her, he'll instinctively want to check on them more and more often. He'll intentionally walk on a different route to work that has him pass by her apartment, he'll frequently bump into her "accidentally" and offer to walk her home or to wherever she's going. And he always warns her to be careful whenever they part ways. If she does things like listen to music with headphones on, he'll tell her that she really shouldn't be doing that when walking alone. "Someone might make you a target, doing something careless like that."

He'd come across as a fairly normal guy with a crush...until he determines that Darling isn't safe on her own. All it'll take is one encounter with some thugs, her being harassed on the street when he's in earshot, or even a robbery in her apartment complex (not even her home specifically) for him to realize that he can't protect her as well as he needs to if she's living by herself.

He'd ask Noi for help bringing her to his place, and as his partner she knows that he's doing this out of a sense of love. Personally she may not agree with it, but she knows Shin-senpai would never hurt Darling. So she helps knock her out and drop her off at Shin's place, plus a few boxes of things from her apartment.

Shin would've set up a few precautions for her "adjustment period": some restraints, sedatives and tranquilizers to keep her calm while he explains things, etc. He'd apologize for the sudden shock, but calmly tell her that he can only keep her safe if he has her living with him from now on. It's selfish, he knows that, but he also feels relieved that he can have her this close now.

He pacifies any attempts to fight him and escape, and in the heat of the moment he winds up kissing her. Even if he's kissed her before, even if they were already dating, something about having her in his home--THEIR home together, now--is so new. He can't keep his hands off of them, and the fact that he's gentle and so soft-spoken does little to comfort Darling in his bed.

After he cums he holds her close and consoles her, promising to pamper her and get her anything she needs while she adjusts to their new living situation. He already told En he was taking two weeks off of work, so she has plenty of time to fight back, get angry, and eventually accept that this is what's best for her.

#tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #.drhdr #.shin #yandere drhdr #yandere shin #fem darling #.myshit

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bluegekk0 · 1 month

Note

Damn, Lurien's design is really good! Can you tell us something random about him?

Thank you!

Hmm. Might as well take this chance to talk about his personality a bit. His most prominent trait is that he's extremely dedicated to the City of Tears. Like, to the point of committing questionable actions in order to protect it, which started to be noticeable after he became its head post-infection.

There is a parallel to be made between him and Vyrm for this reason, but where Vyrm chooses to solve things peacefully and was forced to commit terrible acts out of desperation, Lurien is far more ruthless. As the head of the city, he wants to make sure the citizens are safe above all. The infection and the chaos that came after it became an opportunity for many bandits to exploit the city's weakness. By the time Lurien gained power to do anything about it, some of the city districts became notorious for criminal activity, and many of the thugs have their hideouts all across the city and outsids its borders. Thieves, murderers and other criminals fly right under the radar of his weakened guard, and this forces him to look for less than lawful methods to cull the bandit population.

This is best shown by his deal with Grimm; he's willing to work with another murderer to protect the city. Grimm periodically visits it in search of blood, inevitably leaving dead bodies behind. With Lurien's help, he gets access to a list of names of criminals he can hunt without consequences. He works more efficiently and faster than the city guard, which means Lurien can get rid of targets without attracting too much attention of the rest of the criminal underground. It's definitely a questionable method, and perhaps a lot of those criminals deserved a fair trial, but Lurien doesn't seem bothered about it. Anything to protect his beloved city.

I'm still brainstorming his backstory, but I want him to be very closely connected to the city from a young age, somehow. I mean, he basically married it when becoming the Watcher, so it's very clear that it means a lot to him. And I thought it would be interesting if he agreed to become the Dreamer not just because of his respect for FPK, but out of love for the city.

I talked before about his relationship with Vyrm, but I think this is a nice opportunity to mention if again. He definitely had a crush on him at some point, but it's possible that he was more attracted to Vyrm's love for his kingdom and his subjects rather than Vyrm himself. He definitely saw the king's beauty and he found him awe-inspiring, but whether or not it had a romantic undertone is still something he can't decide on.

His conflicted feelings are definitely rooted in his kind's customs. As I mentioned in the design reveal post, the males of his species clip their wings as a wedding ritual. This is deeply rooted in its culture, which unfortunately means that same-sex couples and relationships with other species are frowned upon among his kind, as they break tradition. Lurien definitely adapted Hallownest's more tolerant mindset, but deep down he felt ashamed of his feelings, which contributed to him never making them known to Vyrm or anyone else.

This post is already quite long, but if anyone is interested, I would love to answer more questions, especially some more specific ones! They help a lot with developing him as a character.

#ask stuff #feral pk au #save #lurien #fpk #vyrm #grimm

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red-vortex · 1 year

Text

The Hours Between (part 2/6)

Prompt: Hiding an illness

Incarnation: TMNT (2007)

Pairing: Mikey/Raph

Rating: T for vomit, fever, illness

Summary: Raph suffers through a stomach flu. That’s it, that’s the plot. Mikey gets to keep an eye on Raph again, and maybe it’s the fever talking, but these cuddles are feeling very nice. Lightest hints of tcest in this one, but you can still read it as platonic if you want.

(Set sometime before the events of the movie)

For the @badthingshappenbingo

Raph ran, jumped, stumbled on the landing. Okay, ow. Surely he wasn’t out of shape—just yesterday he’d parkoured his ass across what, ten buildings? Stuck every landing. This? This was nothing.

He wasn’t hurt. His busted wrist from last month was fine now. He hadn’t even seen any action yet tonight, aside from trailing those two thugs with baseball bats. Something was getting smashed tonight, and it wasn’t going to be whatever target those ugly assholes had in mind. Not with the Nightwatcher out.

But he was off tonight, for whatever reason. His legs felt a little wobbly as he set up his next jump, launching himself onto a fire escape eleven stories above his targets’ heads. He landed fine, but sweat bloomed on the back of his neck, tacking his skin to the inside of his armour and he warred with whether or not to remove his helmet so he could breathe. Was the armour always this hot? Was it always this hard to see through the visor?

Things felt… blurry. Swirly. Good thing he’d ditched the bike, pursuing tonight’s quarry on foot. He’d hold a damn Viking funeral for that bike if he ever crashed it while feeling off.

Luckily, Raph didn’t have much time to reflect on this so-called off feeling.

One of the thugs below laughed, a humourless bark that was meant to intimidate. Clearly they’d found whatever they were after, and yeah, there was a woman walking a half block ahead of the meathead pair, quickening her pace when she heard the laugh. There was nowhere safe for her to slip into at 3am, not along this stretch of road, and the thugs knew it.

Raph hated people sometimes.

Okay. So this was a mugging. Or maybe worse. The world would never know, because Raph slid down a fire escape ladder, making as much damn noise as he could as he landed a few feet behind the thugs.

They jumped, and their look of blustery machismo turned to terror in an instant. They stood their ground, but only just. They’d either heard of the Nightwatcher, or the sight of a cryptid metal-armoured man in the middle of night was enough to put some kind of fear into them.

Raph stood his ground, keeping his (still blurry, still swirly) sight on the woman until he watched her continue her frantic walk, until she was out of sight. She was safe. Good, because Raph was doing a whole lot of work here to avoid swaying on his feet. Quiet intimidation was his friend right now.

Time to end this.

Most street punks were cowards when confronted by someone bigger and tougher. Raph didn’t even say a word: he made a lunge towards them, stomping his foot for maximum noise and startle.

They both yelped, turning to run. One dropped his bat. Normally, the Nightwatcher would pursue, put a little more fear into them, make really sure they wouldn’t pick up a bat again and threaten lone people at night without crapping themselves in fear.

Not tonight.

Raph made sure they were gone (and ran and tripped and ran again) in the opposite direction from where their would-be victim had disappeared. And now he could fully focus on how the off feeling had morphed into something much worse. He felt outright sick now.

He had to get out of sight. Now. Raph ducked into the nearest deserted alley, which is what he’d normally do, melding with the darkness and climbing up to find another vantage point. Now though, he got a few feet into the alley before his knees turned to jelly and sour saliva filled his mouth.

Oh shit. Oh shit.

His stomach tightened, making him gag. Raph fumbled with his helmet, yanked it off just in time to vomit all over the grimy ground.

He coughed, puked again, and then again, and then it stopped. By then he’d thrust one shaking hand against the cold brick, panting and spitting and dragging the back of his other hand across his mouth.

Okay. So that sucked.

Collapsing to the ground sounded really nice right now, but he couldn’t stay here. This stretch of road was mostly empty this time of night, but it wasn’t completely deserted, and he wasn’t sure just how much noise he’d made just now. His helmet was off and he was sure he looked like shit, even without the whole mutant turtle situation.

At least most people would hurry away from the sounds of a stranger hurling in an alley.

Gathering his strength, Raph pushed away from the wall, waited a few minutes to make sure his stomach was settling, and slipped the helmet back on. It was hot, too hot, but comfort came second to anonymity.

He just had to make it home. Then he could sleep this off, and get right back into the swing of things tomorrow night. He was fine.

***

By the time Raph made it back to the lair, he was most assuredly not fine.

It was just past four in the morning, giving him plenty of time to sneak back into his room. By the time he sat down on his bed, his stomach was burbling with nausea once more, his head spinning miserably.

At least he felt better, cooler, without the Nightwatcher suit on. He could handle this. He wasn’t awesome at meditating, not like golden boy Leo, but he’d practiced it enough to know how to calm and centre his body. He breathed deep. He could do this.

Raph sat on his bed until morning, arms crossed tightly over his plastron. He’d managed not to puke through sheer angry spite.

If he could do this for another few hours, then this whole stomach thing would run its course and everything could go back to normal.

Except, now he really had to pee.

Great. He had to make decisions when he could barely focus on the wall in front of him. Walking around was not going to end well for his spite-contained nausea, but another hour of sitting here wasn’t going to end well for his bladder either.

He stood up, swayed a bit, and went to his door.

Raph knew there would be an audience though. He’d heard someone using the shower earlier (Donnie, probably), someone jumping or falling with a resounding thud (Mikey, definitely) so Splinter and his brothers being up was something he’d have to face.

“Ah, Sleeping Beauty has arisen,” Donnie dryly remarked. Whatever he was doing was taking up the entire kitchen table, tools and all.

“Hm,” was Raph’s eloquent reply. Anything wordier would have made his stomach flip.

Splinter and Mikey were on the couch, caught up in the latest drama in one of Splinter’s shows. It was kind of cute. Raph didn’t know Mikey was into those shows too.

“Hey Raph!” Mikey’s head popped over the back of the couch, greeting him with a smile, and plopped back down.

Raph managed a slow and dignified shuffle to the bathroom, blinking away spots of exciting new colours and sizes. Donnie’s eyes were on him part of the way, before he returned to his project. Maybe Raph looked hungover to him. Let Donnie think whatever he wanted to think.

Once he was done with the bathroom, he took the opportunity to splash some water on his face. That felt a little better. Maybe he really could beat this thing through force of will.

The walk back was equally slow and (he hoped) dignified. Donnie didn’t even bother looking up at him. All Raph wanted was to collapse on his bed and sleep the day away.

He was halfway there when his stomach seized and cold sweat broke out on his face and neck. Raph whimpered from the rising tide of nausea, but it was the sudden collapse to his knees that caught Donnie’s attention.

“Uh, Raph? Are you all right?” Donnie’s query had Mikey whipping his head over the back of the couch to see what was going on.

Goddammit. Why hadn’t he just stayed in the damn bathroom? If he moved from the floor now, he was going to pass out.

Mikey now. “Raph? You good?”

“… I’m gonna puke.”

Funny how three words could bring so much chaos. His name was called out, there was the rustle and thump of someone getting to their feet in a flash, the frantic scrape of a chair, and a voice that was definitely Donnie’s shouting, “Oh God! Don’t!”

Well damn, wasn’t like he was going to puke on the floor for fun.

But then an empty trashcan was shoved right under his face, and what perfect timing. Whoever was holding it was remarkably steady as Raph threw up. He gagged a few times for good measure, and that was even more embarrassing than the actual puke part, because it sounded so loud and pathetic.

“Damn, bro!” A chuckle, and Mikey sat down in front of him, still holding the trashcan. “I don’t think I’ve seen you barf since we were… like, ten?”

Raph managed to turn his last dry heave into a cough, which wasn’t much, but it sounded better to him. He was a lot shakier than he’d care to admit and if he looked up he just knew he would find everyone staring at him.

Swallowing against the burn in his throat, he looked up. Yep.

Mikey, obviously, was sitting crossed-legged and serene right in front of him. Splinter was a few feet away, concern on his face, keeping his distance so as not to crowd his son. Donnie was still standing in the kitchen, keeping his distance to stay away from the unspeakable horror of it all.

Meanwhile, the state of the lair told a story: flipped cushion on the armchair where Mikey had been sitting, pile of empty soda cans and food wrappers on the other side of the couch. Mikey must have what—somersaulted twice to grab the trashcan, upend it to empty out the garbage, and thrust it under Raph’s face just in time?

He’d be impressed if he wasn’t so shaky.

“I’m okay,” he panted. Waved a hand in Mikey’s direction to signal he didn’t need the trashcan anymore. “I’m okay, m’done.”

“For now, anyway. I’ll take care of this in case you’ve got another round in you!” Ugh, how could Mikey sound so chirpy while carting off a bucket of puke?

He felt Mikey’s absence though, dumb as it was. It left him gracelessly kneeling on the floor by himself, pondering the logistics of crawling back to his room to sleep this off, when a warm touch on his carapace made him shiver.

Splinter was at his side. And, surprisingly, Donnie had dared approach, if only to hand Splinter a glass of water. That was sweet of him.

“Here, slowly.”

He let Splinter tip the glass to his mouth and took an uneasy sip. His stomach felt a bit better but the queasy heat that had bothered him all night was back. As though reading his mind (not going to lie, occasionally he wondered if their master could), Splinter pressed the back of his hand to Raph’s forehead, cheek, and neck. Raph leaned into the touch, transported back to younger days when papa could make everything better.

“You have a fever, my poor son,” Splinter sighed and helped him sip more water. If Raph hadn’t felt guilty about hiding his illness before, the tender concern did him in. “Come. I will help you back to your bed. You need to rest.”

“Nah, I got this,” Mikey declared as he waltzed back in. He’d parked the trashcan, presumably emptied and clean, under his arm. “It’s kinda my fault anyway.”

“… Wha? How?” That didn’t make sense. Raph’s first thought was food poisoning, but he hadn’t eaten Mikey’s cooking in a while. And Mikey’s cooking, as creative as it could get, was usually pretty good.

“So remember that birthday party last Sunday? It was kind of awesome and no one’d even punched or kicked me yet. It was a great time, until… oh man. This one kid just started barfing all over the place. Like let loose. It was like firehose meets sprinkler. The cake was marble and yeah, it came out the same.”

“Mikey!” Donnie groaned. “Seriously. That’s disgusting.”

Raph agreed with a wet burp. Luckily, it didn’t announce a round two (technically, round three).

“Sorry, sorry! But see, I’ve been around so many germ factory kids that I don’t catch anything anymore. I got a stomach of steel now.” Mikey punched his own plastron for emphasis. The thought of that much pressure near his stomach made Raph hiccup. “But I guess I still brought that kid’s bug home. Sorry, Raph.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Raph rasped. The water was helping, but now his shakes were due to cold, and he was kind of tired of being the centre of attention. “I’m just going to go lie down.”

“Yeah. C’mon, I got you.” With Mikey on one side and Splinter on the other, Raphael managed an unsteady rise to his feet. Followed by an unsteady walk over to his room, with Mikey at his side the whole way. He would have, should have protested at least a little, but damn it, he felt really crappy right now.

And Mikey was definitely taking this whole ‘I got you’ business seriously. He plopped Raph down on the edge of his bed, sorted his pillows, pulled out spare blankets, and made the whole bed look a lot more comfortable than it had in a long time.

“Okay! Your bed has been prepared for maximum comfiness, aaaand the most important piece—monsieur’s barf bucket—is standing by.”

“Gross, Mikey.” Raph sighed and collapsed into bed. Thank goodness he managed to get his head on the pillow the first time, because he wasn’t about to move to adjust. As it was, pulling the blankets up seemed like an insurmountable task.

He didn’t need to worry about it though. Mikey tucked him in, then stuck his palm on Raph’s forehead—not nearly as gentle as Splinter’s touch, but comforting all the same.

“Yep, you could melt cheese on that,” Mikey declared. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Funny,” Raph muttered into his pillow. He was on the edge of a light doze when Mikey returned, arms full. Raph didn’t take note of any of it, until the wet cloth made contact with his forehead.

“There you go!” Mikey dabbed at his cheeks and forehead again, something that Raph should have found irritating, but instead found genuinely soothing. Maybe—weird to admit—because it was Mikey and no one else.

“Thanks,” he rasped, eyes sliding shut of their own volition.

“No prob, bro.” Raph was already drifting off to sleep, but he could have sworn he heard Mikey add “You know I always got your stupid butt.”

***

Raph awoke to gentle bleep and ping noises.

When he managed to blink most of the blurriness away, he saw Mikey comfortably settled on a chair, handheld game resting on his knee while he furiously jabbed his way through whatever level he was on. His tongue was poking out in concentration.

He wasn’t so engrossed that he didn’t notice when Raph stirred. “Hey! Rise and shine, Raphie. How are you feeling?”

Cold and crappy, but he kept that to himself. “Have you been here the whole time?”

“Well yeah! Someone’s got to make sure you’re okay.”

“What time is it?”

Mikey’s game made a game over sound. He didn’t even look at it, switching it off and tossing it out of sight. “You napped for about two hours. Want to try eating? I can make some soup.”

Raph swallowed hard. Now that he was awake, his stomach felt weird again. Soup was definitely not on the table yet.

“Nah, I’m good. You didn’t have to stay here.”

“I miss you,” Mikey shrugged. “Besides, this is more interesting than everything else going on in here. It’s been a weird few months.”

It had. Raph made a noise of agreement and pulled the blankets over his chin.

“It’s like someone sucked all the life out of this place. Donnie’s happier this way, I think. He gets to do whatever he does with his gadgets without worrying about training. He’s turning into such a nag though. Like dude, if you wanted to go barf on him, feel free. Might take him down a few pegs.”

Raph grinned under the blankets. “’Least you get to watch TV all day. You always said that was the dream.”

“No, that’s the worst part!” Mikey groaned. “Master Splinter’s trying to get me into his shows. I’m too nice to say no, but I’m going nuts here! Christine has another twin who tried to steal her husband, but that doesn’t even matter because turns out she was married to her husband’s twin anyway. Why do I know this, Raph? Why do I know this??”

Raph pictured Mikey sitting on the couch, holding the pain inside, and chuckled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a laugh out of anything. It felt nice… until the movement made his stomach flip. No. Not again. He refused.

He’d managed to will his puke down for most of the night. He could do this. Bad enough Mikey watched him get sick once. He could hold this down. He was stronger than puke. He was—

Nope. No, he wasn’t.

Raph made a mad grab for the trashcan, while struggling to get into some kind of upright position so he wouldn’t die choking. He kind of made it, kind of didn’t, settling the trash can in his lap but hitting the rim when he threw up, splashing his thighs. Oh God. Gross.

Thank God Mikey had no running commentary. Raph was vaguely aware of Mikey standing at his side (why, why would he come any closer to this mess?) and then a hand was on his forehead and another on his carapace, holding him steady.

“Shit,” Raph moaned, gagging into the bucket. “Shit.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Mikey said, stroking Raph’s rough carapace. Mikey’s touch felt warm. “Catch your breath, then we’ll get you cleaned up. No harm done. You didn’t nail the bed, at least.”

Mikey’s voice was so soothing. Raph swallowed, swaying in place on the bed with the can still parked in his lap, seconds away from getting lulled into a doze by the touch on his carapace.

The contrast of a cold wet cloth swiping over his thighs made him jump. Mikey was cleaning up the worst of the mess with the abandoned forehead cloth.

“All right, let’s get a bath going.”

Raph shook his head, so very exhausted. “I don’t want to move.”

“C’mon, you need to get cleaned up,” Mikey said, tugging the trashcan from Raph’s limp hands and giving him a little pull to his feet. “It’ll be fun. And it’ll be good for your fever, too.”

Well, it wasn’t like Raph had enough energy to argue. The lair was empty as Mikey carefully led him to the bathroom and sat him on the edge of the tub while he got the water going.

The tub was a reinforced, claw-footed deal that Donnie had rigged up. It was big enough for the turtles to completely submerge, shells and all, and sturdy enough to support the weight of three of them at a time, if ever the need arose.

Dizziness and hard porcelain did not mix, so Mikey got Raph settled on the bottom of the tub, got the shower head, and hosed off the sick before settling himself between Raph and the back of the tub, letting the water fill up so they could soak.

It did feel better to be clean. And the lukewarm water was helping his fever. This was nice. This was… too nice. He didn’t deserve any of Mikey’s attention.

Raph still couldn’t help twisting around in the tub, wedging himself against Mikey’s side and wrapping his arms about his brother, his face on Mikey’s plastron. Mikey’s arms came around him, a natural hug, and it didn’t help the guilt at all.

“M’sorry,” Raph moaned. It came out sadder than intended, but fever and a whirling vision could do that.

Mikey misinterpreted. “You good? If you need to barf again, might as well do it now while we’re here.”

Raph shook his head. His stomach was settling, at least for now. It occurred to him a second later that Mikey, thinking more vomit was imminent, made zero move to shove him off or even turn his head away. That was… well maybe sweet wasn’t the right word, but it was certainly something.

“… For being me. Y’know. I know I’m not easy.”

“Aw, Raphie.” Mikey hugged him tighter. “Maybe you’re not, but I like that about you. I just wish it wouldn’t take you being sick for us to hang out. When’s the last time we spent any time together?”

When Mikey had tended to his broken wrist, on the kitchen floor in the wee hours of the morning. Point taken. He mumbled an agreement.

“I know you’re big into your nighttime training and junk, but you could take a break and hang out during the day. You, me and Donnie could do something.”

“Donnie doesn’t care,” Raph murmured right into Mikey’s plastron.

The hand on his shell began to stroke. “Not true, bro. I think we all need some quality time together. You and I could start? Maybe I could even join you on the roof one night and we can spar or pretend we’re vigilantes or something!”

Raph had to take a moment to make sure the feeling in the pit of his stomach was guilt and not nausea. Just like last month, Raph was warring hard. He could trust Mikey. Mikey could know he was the Nightwatcher. He could tell him. He should tell him.

Maybe not when fever was pounding at his temples. Or maybe yes. Before Raph could make up his mind either way, Mikey’s hand wandered up to cup the back of his head, rubbing gently.

“Hey, next time you get sick, you should get some help sooner. You didn’t have to hide it all night.”

It took a moment for Raph to realize what Mikey was saying. “I wasn’t hiding--”

“You came home a lot earlier than normal from your roof stuff.” Mikey’s cheek was now pressed against the top of his head. “Guess you started feeling sick in the middle of the night?”

“How do you know…?”

“I set an alarm. After last time. A few of them, actually. Just to get an idea of if you’re home yet or not. Look, I know you breaking your wrist wasn’t a huge deal, but what if you land wrong again and get really hurt? I know your dumb self won’t come to any of us for help. You hide stuff.”

“I don’t…” Well okay, maybe he did. But for Mikey to set alarms to keep track of him like some kind of… doting mother? “Ugh. Mikey, you really don’t need to worry that much about me.”

“Yeah I do,” Mikey said. And there was that serious Mikey voice, the one Raph liked so much. “Because you hold everything in when you’re hurting, and that’s not fair. I can always tell though. And I don’t want my favourite bro to be hurting.”

Favourite bro. Like he was anyone’s favourite anything.

So why did his eyes suddenly feel hot and wet, and why was he clinging to Mikey even harder now? He didn’t even need to say anything. Because with Mikey, it kind of worked like that. He could give in a little around him, let himself be vulnerable, be cared for. Mikey was accepting, unwavering.

Mikey held him tighter, to the point that Raph couldn’t even tell if this was platonic cuddling anymore. Maybe the fever was making him loopy.

Maybe he just didn’t want to let go. Mikey was his anchor. An oasis of calm. A whole lot of other metaphors that involved the same thing: Mikey felt safe. How come he’d never realized that before?

How come he’d never really done anything to deserve it?

“Mikey…” Raph said, because he really didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s okay. I know you want to stay strong. I love that about you.” Mikey pressed a kiss to his head.

Raph raised his head, feeling his neck ache and stretch. Not aggressive, but curious. They didn’t really… plant kisses like that on each other. Was it just more of Mikey’s comfort, or…?

Mikey’s smile was all sunshine. “Let’s get you better first. Then we’ll talk about hanging out. Ready to get out?”

Not really. Getting out meant he’d have to let go of Mikey, and vice-versa, and break whatever this little bathtub cuddle spell was about. But he was starting to feel cold and really tired, and since the nausea wasn’t so bad anymore, maybe he could actually sleep.

Still, he put up a token protest. “M’comfy here.”

“I dig that, but I’ll get in trouble if I let you drown. I kind of promised I’d take care of you, and that would go against my doctor-oath-thing. Yeah.”

Raph grumbled the whole time, and Mikey chuckled at him as he drained the bath, got Raph to his feet, and got them both dried off. He didn’t miss the way Mikey hugged him a little tighter than necessary to help him walk back to his room, and he didn’t fight the way his head came to rest on Mikey’s shoulder as they walked. Thank God Donnie and Splinter were still nowhere to be found.

When they got back to Raph’s room, there was a bottle of water and a blister pack of Dramamine on the nightstand.

“Aw, see?” Mikey chuckled, setting Raph down on the edge of the bed. “Donnie does care. Even if he’s scared of barf.”

Raph chuckled weakly, too tired to argue that Mikey was probably wrong, but he took the medicine and water without complaint and let Mikey manhandle him back into bed. The shower felt nice. The water was staying down. And Mikey settling in by his side felt nice, even if he wished he could still be in Mikey’s arms.

Once the fever went down, Raph would probably feel different about this whole thing, and wonder what exactly he was feeling, but for now… it was nice to let Mikey take his caretaker duties seriously.

“Bro, you’re already halfway out of it,” Mikey teased. He settled back in his chair and started up his game again. “Get some Zs, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll make you some soup when you wake up.”

“Soup would be really good,” Raph muttered into his pillow. He drifted off within seconds. Everything would be fine when he woke up. Everything would be fine, because Mikey was here.

#TMNT #Raphael #Michelangelo #Raph #Mikey #TMNT 2007 #Mikey/Raph #Sick Raph #Faintest hint of tcest here

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sentinelpri · 1 year

Text

Sapphire & Gold

The moon sings a song of pale light and soft wind as Itachi Uchiha and Kisame Hoshigaki walk through the outskirts of Kirigakure, their sandals plip-plopping against the puddles that litter the grassland they’re trekking through. Kisame has the incapacitated body of their target on his back; some sort of Kirigakure politician that was getting in the way of Tobi’s work. They’re trying to get to a safe place to dispose of the body with Itachi’s crows where no one will stumble across them.

Eventually, they get to part of the forest where they’re surrounded by enough trees and fog that Itachi feels secure to do the disposal. So, they do, and as their target is ripped to shreds and consumed by the birds, he glances over at Kisame.

The older man is covered in blood from head to toe and doesn’t seem to mind it. The rusty grime mats in his indigo locks and crusts over his sapphire skin, tainting him, but his golden eyes seem to glow against the dull night with the adrenaline and dopamine that rushes through his veins.

And oddly enough, he looks more beautiful than ever; in his element, covered in rain and in blood, his hands scraped to shreds and his cloak torn and stained from the fight against their target’s bodyguards.

Itachi doesn’t blush, and he doesn’t fawn, because he knows Kisame is smart enough to pick up on those things if he dares to let his composure slip. So, Itachi commits the image to memory and looks away instead, even as anger dares to consume him- yes, that’s the emotion that he feels when he and Kisame are alone like this; anger. Itachi is angry. He’s angry that, were he partnered with literally anyone else in the Akatsuki, he could have stayed to himself and refused to fall for anyone before his inevitable death, angry that after a life of shoving everything and everyone away, he allowed Kisame to melt his icy composure so easily.

He remembers the first day they met. He was sitting on the edge of a dock overlooking the ocean when Kisame approached and introduced himself.

“I’ll be teaming up with you starting today. I’m Kisame Hoshigaki, formerly of the Hidden Mist; one of the seven ninja swordsmen,” A basic introduction, but nothing special. Itachi didn’t bother turning around at the time, too entranced by the shadows of the sharks that swam in the water below. They danced around each other so gracefully back then. “So pleased to make your acquaintance… And you are Itachi Uchiha, formerly of the Hidden Leaf. I’ve heard the rumors that you slaughtered all of your fellow Uchiha clansmen. I think that we’re alike, you and I. That’s the reason I wanted to be teamed with you in the Akatsuki. It’s really indescribable, isn’t it? Killing your comrades is quite the sensation, wouldn’t you say so, Itachi?”

Itachi had been offended at the time by both the implication that he was a stonecold killer who delighted in murdering his comrades and by the way Kisame so easily talked about killing people. At the same time, though, he’d been utterly entranced.

“You talk a lot. You don’t understand me; you don’t even understand yourself,” Itachi spat, looking over his shoulder. He remembers not being able to control that urge to blush at the mere sight of Kisame back then; his cheeks had burned bright red, so he’d been forced to face the water again even though all he wanted was to stare into Kisame’s golden eyes. Fearful and fresh off of what he’d done to his clan, Itachi resorted to insults. “You’re just a thug who got lost in the mist and ended up here. You can’t even control where you’re going. Am I wrong?”

“Do you want to know something interesting? Most sharks are ovoviviparous, which means that the eggs hatch inside the female’s body before the young are born. However, with some kinds of sharks, the number of eggs that hatch will differ from the number of young that emerge from the mother’s belly. Do you know why that is?” Kisame asked, but Itachi said nothing because no, he hadn’t known; sharks were never seen back in Konohagakure. Kisame answered the question for him after a few minutes. “Because of cannibalism. Right from the moment they hatch, they start eating each other inside their mother’s uterus. The fratricidal warfare begins as soon as they’re born. To each shark, all the others are just food to be eaten. Starting today, you are an Akatsuki member and my companion, so be wary… Of me.”

Itachi activated his Sharingan, not to fight or to intimidate, but to lock the moment in his memory for eternity; something he now regrets. He only did it because he was so terribly entranced by the way his heart started to skip beats like never before, so he could encapsulate the fear and the curiosity and the obsession.

“Same goes for you.”

“Now, let’s be friends and have some fun, alright?” Kisame had put a hand on his shoulder, so cold and firm. “And hope that we will not end up as each other’s final opponents.”

“No one who dares to raise a hand against a comrade ever dies a decent death,” Itachi stood, trying to avoid Kisame’s gaze. Perhaps he assumed that he would run the risk of Kisame seeing through him if their eyes met. He still tries to avoid eye contact with the man to this day for that very reason. “Remember that.”

“Well, that means our fates are sealed; you and I are depraved and worthless.”

“Not true. We’re both human- not fish,” Itachi murmured, sounding much more sure of himself than he actually was that day. He wanted to convince himself that Kisame was more human than monster. He still tries to. “No matter who you are, you do not truly know what kind of man you’ve become until you reach the very end. One realizes one’s true nature at the moment of death. Don’t you think that’s what death is about?”

With that, he’d left, unable to shake the feeling of Kisame’s hand on his shoulder.

Even though his feet knew the path he should’ve taken back then, he has since walked alongside Kisame in the dark without giving a single thought as to where it might lead.

And all the empty rooms- the homes of the Jinchuriki they’ve captured, the hotels they’ve stayed in, the little tea shops they’ve lingered in for too long for some sense of normalcy- they- Itachi- could have left the Akatsuki at any time and chosen to go anywhere else. Instead, Itachi made a bed with his apathy and followed the orders of his village to get intel from the S-Rank organization, and Kisame continued on his path of darkness with Itachi by his side.

Clearing his head of the painful memories, Itachi peers down at the body before them. He dispels the crows and watches Kisame scatter what’s left of the teeth and bones deep underneath the earth. It’s a disturbing sight, even after everything they’ve done. The death never seems to become any easier to witness- or to cause. Itachi averts his eyes and continues to walk down the dark path they’ve grown used to.

Kisame follows behind. The lull of their usual silence, however, is broken by Kisame, whose voice is barely audible over the rain that begins to pour over them.

“Itachi… You’ve been off lately,” Kisame starts, and Itachi thinks that might be it- a simple voicing of Kisame’s concern that he can brush off like the rest, which has been a frequent occurrence since his illness has gotten worse. Much to his surprise, Kisame continues. “I think we need to talk about it.”

“I think we’re fine,” Itachi says. Even he can’t deny how his voice shakes despite how he tries to remain calm. As he gets closer and closer to his death, his emotions get more and more potent. “Let’s move on, yes?”

At this point, Kisame tends to drop the subject, but this time, he grabs Itachi by the wrist.

“No,” Kisame insists. His fingers, cold and firm like they were the day they met, squeeze around Itachi’s wrist, which is much thinner than it was back then. Itachi doesn’t dare turn to face him. He’s scared that, if he does, he’ll finally break after so many years of keeping himself together for the sake of not pushing this thing that they have until it breaks. “I’m serious. I’m sick of always moving on from the things we need to talk about. You know I’m not one to dampen the mood like this, but neither of us should pretend that things haven’t changed lately. Do you seriously expect me to ignore what’s been going on between us?”

Itachi’s heart knows the weight of continuing to ignore his feelings, but that’s what he’s grown used to. Ever since he was little, he was forced to shove down everything he felt and keep a straight, calm face- for the sake of the clan, for the sake of Sasuke, for the sake of the village, and now, for the sake of Kisame and for the sake of the Akatsuki. After over ten years worth of dust and neglect, his heart is beyond trying to explore the depths of.

Why not just keep shoving everything down until he dies? That’s all he knows, anyway.

Itachi tries to pull away, but Kisame holds him firm. He debates on using his Sharingan before deciding against it. He needs it for his inevitable fight with Sasuke, and the more he uses it, the less time he has left. So he turns to look at Kisame and attempt to convince him to let go, but when he does, Kisame is staring at him like they’re human. Not monsters, not murderers, just two human men; two true comrades.

“Don’t you dare look at me that way,” He commands, too overpowered by his emotions to think better of it. “Not after everything we’ve done.”

At one point, perhaps even just before Kisame decided to open this Pandora’s box, Itachi thought he’d made peace with his weariness and let it be. Now, flames of raw emotion feel like they’re licking up his body and melting his icy exterior before their very eyes. He despises how Kisame has made him feel all of these things so suddenly- it’s almost as if he has been hoarding parts of Itachi that the Uchiha himself didn’t know existed before now.

“Why? Are you going to stop me, Itachi? You can’t deny the tension that’s been boiling between us,” Kisame smiles. His sharp teeth shine a brilliant white underneath the beams of moonlight that peek through the storm clouds. Itachi’s heart skips a beat, just like it did back then. He hates himself for it. “I’ll stop if you tell me what the problem is. We’re comrades, remember?”

He loves Kisame like the sun- he has since the start, boring the shadows that the older man always seemed to make with no light of his own. Aside from Sasuke, Kisame has been the only thing to keep him going through illness, violence, and trauma.

“The problem is that you make me want things I can’t have,” Itachi confesses, his composure finally faltering.

Itachi thinks of all the things they could have had- anything else, any other life, with peace and love. If it were another life, they could have been normal people who met under normal circumstances and fell in love. He sees how Kisame looks at him; he knows that the very tension Kisame mentioned is very much there, so thick between them that he could cut through it with a kunai if he were to acknowledge his presence.

“Like what?”

“If you must know,” Itachi clears his throat and trains his eyes on the muddy ground. He doesn’t even pause to consider it. He’s going to die soon, so why not do this? Why not ruin everything in his wake? Kisame is practically begging for him to do so. “Love and trust and all of those other meaningless things we left behind when we abandoned our villages so long ago- when they abandoned us.”

“Abandoned? I like to think of it as freed,” Kisame quips, his grin growing. He’s braver than Itachi in how he reaches forward with his spare hand to rest it on Itachi’s cheek. This man, this killer, caresses his face like it’s fragile glass. Sweet. Gentle. Words that no one else would use to describe Kisame or his actions. They’re the only ones who know each other like this. “And you can have those things alongside our lifestyle, whether you believe it or not.”

“Don’t you think that’s cruel?” Itachi asks. The rain that streams down his face allows him to cry. The tears blend in with the water seamlessly. “We both know I’m going to die soon.”

“Life has been cruel to the both of us regardless, why not let this be the cherry on top? It’s as they say, it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.”

“I can’t say I agree with that sentiment,” Itachi replies with a frown.

He snatches his hand away. This time, Kisame lets him. It seems as if he’s gotten what he wanted from Itachi; an admission of guilt.

The two men continue to walk in the rain. Itachi hopes that will be enough, but within minutes, Kisame is talking again.

“So, Itachi… Why me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re attractive. So, out of everyone, why would you love a monster like me?”

Itachi pauses. Then, he answers.

“Because I, too, am a monster.”

“Then wouldn’t you say we belong together?”

“No, Kisame, I’m more monstrous than you could ever dream of being. Unlike me, you still have a shred of humanity left,” Maybe it’s true, maybe it’s not. Itachi isn’t sure. Neither of them are quite monsters, but neither of them are quite human either. They’re somewhere in between, in a state of limbo that only the two of them could ever understand. “We don’t belong together. We never have.”

“Are you saying our partnership never should’ve happened?”

“Precisely. We both… We both would’ve been better off that way.”

The rain seems to settle into a light sprinkle as the two approach a stream. Wordlessly, they undress, knowing that they should wash their light wounds and get the blood off of their bodies before anything gets infected. Neither of them bat an eye at each other. It’s practically a post-battle routine now.

“Well, we can’t go back in time, and if you really do feel the same way, I’m not going to give up on you,” Kisame sinks into the water. For the first time, Itachi dares to look at him; dewy sapphire skin, soft gills, hard and defined muscle. Kisame is big and brawny, the exact opposite of Itachi, who feels small in comparison. The ravenette knows he’s slowly wasting away into nothing but pale, cracked skin coiled around increasingly visible and fragile bone. He’s not just small in comparison- no, he’s nothing in comparison to this man. “I want to feel the fire that you’ve kept from me, Itachi.”

The words stab through Itachi like swords to the pit of his belly. Kisame looks back at Itachi, who is awkwardly holding his Akatsuki robes in front of himself instead of getting into the lukewarm Kirigakure water.

“I won’t let you feel it. I’d burn you, after all,” Itachi finally responds after remaining silent for far too long. He tries to disregard Kisame’s prying golden eyes as he drops his robes and gets into the water a couple feet away from him. He manages to find some comfort on a smooth rock. The current is soft and clear. “As many threats as I’ve made over the years, the last thing I want to do is hurt you, Kisame.”

“Look at you, being a coward. What’s new? You’re always running away; running from your village, from your remaining family, from the enemies we face. You always err on the side of caution even though you chose this path just as I chose mine,” Kisame criticizes, criticizes, criticizes. Something he’s always been good at. Itachi doesn’t even dignify it, just lets it roll off of him in tangent with the stream’s water. “Name your courage now and take a risk for once, will you? I’m getting tired of how predictable you’re becoming.”

He manages to swallow his doubt, if only for tonight. He knows it’ll be one of the last before he has to face Sasuke.

“How’s this for predictable?” Itachi asks and moves through the water so he can sit closer to Kisame. Kisame stares over at him. This time, Kisame’s the one who’s blushing. His cheeks are dusted purple and he looks at Itachi with measured curiosity. Itachi revels in the way Kisame’s body tenses with anticipation when he reaches forward, only to drag water over his muscles to wash off the blood. “Not what you were expecting, was it? If you’re so insistent, I’ll cease my running away for now, Kisame.”

“Then come,” Kisame grabs Itachi by the hips and pulls him closer. Itachi offers the biggest smile he can muster and continues to wash the blood off of his partner. Their bodies, worn and rough, seem to mold together within the flow of the stream. Golden eyes burn into charcoal ones. “Come and burn me to ashes, Itachi.”

“If that’s what you want, I suppose I have no choice but to indulge you for now.”

Itachi acquiesces against his better judgment and, within seconds, Kisame is grabbing him by the face and locking their lips together in a silent promise.

#itakisa #kisaita #kisame hoshigaki #itachi uchiha #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfiction #naruto shippuden fanfiction #tw corpse #tw corpse mention #angst #fanfiction #oneshot #oneshots #songfic #song: the moon will sing (the crane wives)

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the-silver-peahen-residence · 9 months

Note

Or could you write one when some thugs heard of the royal bloodline for the demons and tried to kidnap them?

((Hello anon, hope your well and...uhhhh are you sure? If I write this, you'll be meeting very angry protective parents. But....I'm sure you'll be fine. So just a moment. The demon royals au and some in this short drabble belongs to @demon-blood-youths ))

Silver butterfly mun/Peahen mom

"You know? I can't believe we did it! We got a few of them! I Hear selling them to the highest bidder for demons now are pretty good. Even if they have royal blood." A thug smiled showing a bag on his shoulder but their was movement inside with his followers confused.

"That depends on who you kidnap in New York. It's hard to find good ones ever since those demon royals took over. I mean, do you know how many demons roam around now? It's a lot." Another said drinking some beer with the others just relaxing now.

"Well, as long as the brats are good for ransom then it's fine. Besides, who did you kidnap this time boss?" a third said seeing the others look to him.

"Eh I didn't. I told the other two to get who they can find and they got a few. We will be getting paid my boys." He said. "In fact, lets go see and put them up for ransom." The others followed their leader to the cell where the prisoners were but what they didn't know is the two that did the kidnapping messed up.

Or in other words; they fucked up.

The boss gets to the room and sees their was a few kids inside hearing the crying and sniffling. "So you did get a few? Nice work!" he grins seeing the two that did it look proud.

"Thank you sir!"

"Heh, I bet we will get a lot of money for these little demons. Shine a light, I wanna see them." He saw one going to flip the switch and show who was inside. As soon as he looks and gets a idea on who it was. His eyes widen seeing a few.

"........"

"LET US OUT OF HERE, YOU..YOU DUMMY HEAD! MY DADDY AND MOMMY ARE GOING TO BEAT YOUR SMELLY BUTS!" Bridget shouts glaring with her red eyes and sharp teeth. Near by was another girl named Izzy who was trying to calm a scared lewis who was holding his head. Even Sarah was trying to help him while she was healing him since they were rough on a few.

"Why did you meanies kidnap us? What are you going to do to us!?" Izzy said having a few baby jellyfish floating around the kids to keep them safe. their stingers sparking ready to kill the kidnappers. "It's alright Lewis..Our parents will find us." she said.

"I..I wanna go home. I want my daddy and mommy." he said.

"As Izzy said, we will be saved Lewis." Dawn said looking worried while she was trying to help calm him down.

"Yeah! How dare you kidnap the royal children you jerks! Wait till my parents find out you took us! They will beat your ass!" Brandon said snarling.

"Brandon language.." Rosa said with a sigh.

"It's true though!!" he said to Rosa.

However, Abi was trying to calm Benjamin down who was crying scared. The kidnappers looks to the kids but they think they did a good job.

"So what do you think boss? WE did good right-"

"YOU FUCKING IDIOTS!? DO YOU KNOW WHO'S KIDS THESE ARE!? DO YOU REALIZED WHAT YOU DONE!" He was scared suddenly knowing who these kids belong to. The others had no idea.

"Uhhh but boss! You said to kidnap new targets to sell to the highest bidder and we did." One said but got hit in the face by the Boss who was scared shitless now.

"You idiots don't get it! These kids! Their parents are going to fucking kill us!?"

"But why? Who's kids are these?" One asked but as the boss was going to explain, a loud rumble was heard making the others look about. What the hell was that!? The boss knew and felt his face go pale.

Oh no.

Suddenly some familiar voices was heard.

"SPREAD OUT AND LOOK FOR THEM! THEY GOT TO BE HERE!!" Ink shouted as loud footsteps along with violent fighting was heard as guards was trying to take out the intruders but ended up being killed or attacked.

"What the hell is going on up there!?"

"That's auntie Ink! Then that means..." Abigail said when seeing silver flames from the window.

"WHERE ARE MY BABIES!? WHERE ARE THEY!"

"You know I wouldn't like to be violent but you messed up when it comes to messing with our kids.." Benjamin knew the voices to still cry now reaching up at the cell door wanting out. "E..easy Ben, it's going to be okay. Don't be scared." She said but heard Ben whine again but she was not expecting him to do this.

"Mmmmm...mmmmammm....."

"Huh??? What's wrong Benjamin?" she said rocking him in her arms.

"M...mm....Mama..P..Papa..." Abi quickly looks to Ben as he was sniffling. He spoke! Wait...did he say his first words!?

"B..ben you..you spoke...."

"P...Papa..m..mama..Papa..m..mama....."

"You fools really think stealing the royal children was a good idea. Not smart. Oh well, I'm sure your souls will do better as dog food." another angry voice said.

"Agreed.."

Rosa knew those voices.

"Bridget! Where is our baby!" "Yeah, tell us where she is you jerks!" Bridget knew the voices.

"YOU LOWLIFE SCUM! HOW DARE YOU KIDNAP OUR SON!!" Brandon knew that angry voice and felt the two familiar auras. He knew them!

"Release our daughter. Where is our child?" Dawn felt the sudden higher heat but she also saw a strong gust of wind. "You better answer her or else you'll regret it." She knew who that was.

"The kids should be in the lower areas! We have to find them!" Izzy heard the familiar tone of one. "We will find them, don't worry. But we need to get rid of these jerks first!" another voice Izzy knew.

"Where have you taken our Lew lew! Where is he!?" A very violent angry voice was said with green vines spreading. Lewis knew that voice and seeing green like cuts from the window. He knew who that was.

"Yeah, tell us. You don't want to make this worse for yourselves." Another voice along with a worried one. "Hold on honey, daddy and mommy will find you!" Sarah knew the voices.

"Uhhh Boss? Who.." one asked before the kids look.

"MOM!! DAD! WERE DOWN HERE!! HELPPPPPPP!!" The kids begins shouting and making noise trying to get their parents to find them as the boss tries to hush them down.

"NO no no! Don't call them down here! We will let you go! Just don't!" he said trying to beg the kids to now do it. However, they scream even louder and louder hearing the rumble get worse. The boss tried to calm the kids down before his boys saw one green saber stab the metal door before another shows to slice through. The door then got broken down showing a group of very pissed off females.

"What the heck?"

"MOMMY!!" The kids shouted reaching from the cell bars. "Mom help!!" the females got worried but was happy to see their babies safe. However, the fathers was furious to look at the boss leader.

"You! You have some explaining to do!" Shdwkyz said but the boss was scared.

"Wait a moment! This is a misunderstanding!! T-T" he said but the males didn't have it now beating up the boss violently while Ashley uses her vines to grab the cell door and pulls it open freeing the kids. Right away, they rush out to hug their mom happy they were found while Melinda held Ben and Abi tight.

"Oh my precious little puppies. Are you both alright!?" she said worried.

"Were fine mommy.." Abigail said with Ben nuzzling against her chest. However, Ben sniffs to curl up. "M..Mama...mama.." She blinks to look at her baby but was shocked.

"B..Benjamin..did you.." wait, he said his first word and she and Jaron missed it!?

"I knew you would find us mom!" Bridget said hugging Breezy who held her baby knight.

"Of course! We were so worried but I'm so happy your safe..." she smiled.

"I'm so happy your safe..." Sarah was being hugged by her mother Ophelia who was crying. "I'm okay mom....I was scared b..but I'm happy to see you and daddy here.."

"I'm okay mom..I'm not hurt." Rosa felt Vivi hold her daughter but she was happy that she wouldn't lose something too precious. She would have been devastated if anything happened to Rosa or her husband.

"I know but I'm happy your safe."

"Mom, it was scary..I..I was.." Ashley was holding her son gently petting his head while calming him.

"It's alright L..Lew lew. Were here now.."

"I told them you would going to kill them mom! They made the mistake of taking us!" Brandon said even if Kali was holding him.

"They made the mistake of kidnapping my son! That's why your father is making sure these idiots learn to never do it again." Kali said hearing the leader's pained cry with his men.

"We are happy to have found you all. I was not expecting you to get taken.. Thanks to Mack telling us when he was able to get away" Dawn felt Willow hug her but she was happy her baby was safe and sound.

"Are you hurt? Are the others alright?" Mouse said but Izzy nods to hug her.

"Were okay mom. Just shooken up but were okay." she said hugging her. Seems the mothers were happy to have their babies back then heard groans of pain seeing the husbands done. That should teach them even with Ink finishing off the remaining ones upstairs.

After a while, the parents were out but already taken care of the jerks that took their kids. Though, Jaron was sad he missed his son's first words and Melinda too. However, they were happier to see their pups safe in their arms again. Just like the other parents too.

#OOC #scattered silver rose petals #ask answered #mun answered #silver butterfly mun #peahen mom #the mansion owner #devil royals au #young adults au #the fractions of NYC #demon-blood-youths #anon #peahen writer

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anchanted-one · 1 year

Text

Legend of Vajra 28. Welcome to Taris

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43208574/chapters/110377200

Taris, In orbit

As he waited for the call to connect, Vajra stood with his back straight, and arms clasped behind his back. Kira stood behind him, but T7 was still at his station for now. He was listening, though. Vajra had given him permission to listen in to all priority calls, even while working.

He began speaking the second the Major’s holo fizzled onto the air in front of him.

“We’ve arrived at Taris, General.”

“Good, good. Command panicked when they heard that Sith are operating with impunity, even in our stations. Angral’s whereabouts aside, we’re looking forward to seeing what your prisoner has to say that could help us root out spies.”

“He was terrified of being sent back to Angral.” Vajra felt guilty. “I think it might have to do with how the Black Ops prisoners were welcomed.”

“Regardless, it’s time I told you why you’re here.”

“Right. According to the files I saw, there were no labs here.”

“But we have a different objective down there, someone whose safe return is just as important as securing the labs.”

“You have me at the edge of my seat, Sir.”

“His name is Doctor Nasan Godera. He was the real Mastermind behind all those weapons concepts. Tarnis just oversaw their development.”

“I remember hearing about him on Coruscant,” Vajra remembered. “But the way they talked about him, I thought he had died!”

“Not dead, just resigned. He took our surrender personally. Hates the Sith with a vengeance for what they did to his family.”

“And he’s down there? On Taris?” Most Jedi heard about this world while learning about the Mandalorian wars from three centuries ago. It was a colossal death trap! A mutative virus and its hosts, sinking cities, pockets of radiation, crumbling structures, angry predators, and most recently, bandits and thugs. “What benefit could he possibly—"

“Those same features that make it a nightmare also make it a scientist’s dream. It’s a target rich environment, full of structures and ships he can scavenge from, got an ample supply of poisons, toxins, and other hazards. And security is easy too.”

“What kind of a man is he? Will he resist our attempts to protect him?”

“He’s a genius. Calculates targeting algorithms in his head for fun. But his Archillean’s heels are his hatred for the Sith, and his questionable ‘ends-justify-the-means’ approach. He’s almost a mad scientist.”

“Damn.”

“Good luck, Master Jedi. I hope you find him, and bring him home. If anyone can find ways to counter our stolen weapons, it’s that man.”

“Understood. We’ll head out immediately.”

When the holo dissolved, Kira blew out her cheeks. “I can’t believe he didn’t say anything.”

“You look wonderful,” Vajra assured her. “Not to mention, different.”

Kira had undergone a slight makeover. She was wearing leggings instead of her long skirt, and had done a little experiment with makeup. She’d also added a lot of leather to her outfits.

Since it was Taris, she was going to keep the full-length clothes on, as was Vajra himself. But after re-embarking, she had shown Vajra some of the more revealing outfits she intended to wear in the ship.

She’d also picked out some nice shrugs and fancy shoes. She’d been hesitant about the makeup, but decided she’d do little experiments on her own until Jasme could teach her the basics.

“Come on, boss! Let’s get this party started!”

She had taken to calling him that. Since it felt less formal than ‘Master’, he was okay with it.

He hit the intercom. “T7, we’re almost ready!”

“T7 = coming!”

There was a young soldier waiting for them when they arrived, a blonde lady who was equal parts friendly and professional. “Master Jedi! Welcome to Taris! I’m Sergeant Elara Dorne. I’ve been assigned to give you a tour of the base.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Vajra bowed. “This is Kira Carsen—”

“Hey there! I recently found out, that I’m secretly a saint!”

Vajra chuckled. “She really is.”

“Good to know, Sirs.”

“This is T7-01.”

<Greeting: Good Morning, Sergeant Dorne!>

“Nice to meet you too!” the soldier did not betray a hint of uncertainty or surprise at having been introduced to a droid.

“And I’m Vajra.”

“We’ve heard of you, Sirs. Your work on Coruscant was nothing short of spectacular.” She turned to include Kira and T7. “We’re not getting told all the details yet, of course, but what little we have is quite the story.”

“I had a lot of help,” Vajra said. “The Guards and soldiers worked hard. Even some civilians joined in when they heard the firefights. Good thing Black Ops wore their uniforms, and made it clear who they had to target.”

“I understand that Coruscant was just the start. I wish you the best of luck in handling the larger scheme.”

“Thanks, Sergeant!”

“Right, then. Shall we get started?” She asked crisply. When they nodded, she led them to the spaceport entrance. A holorecording started to play when they passed it. A familiar Twi’lek began to give a welcome speech, but Vajra ignored it. “First things first. The Governor asked to meet you. Governor Leontyne Saresh began the Taris Resettlement initiative, and is the reason why there’s such a strong military base here.”

“Any idea how long it’s supposed to take?”

“Well, coming in, she thought it would be a piece of cake, something she could get done in a few months. Or at least, get it started, so that it could grow by itself. But the dangers were more than she’d anticipated.”

Vajra refrained from voicing his opinion, and so did Kira.

“That said, she’s good at getting us the resources we need. And the settlers too. She has influence, and is decisive. Try not to get on her bad side, though,” she added in an undertone. "She can be vindictive.”

“More so than any other politician?”

“She’ll never forget a slight. And if you don’t mind me saying so, she’s already predisposed to hating you.”

“What! Why?”

“So you didn’t hear? She criticized you—and everyone else calling the shots during the red alert—rather publicly. And she was humiliated rather publicly in return.”

“Oh, do you mean the Twi’lek who was at my ‘ceremony’?”

“Yes.” She relayed some of the things which had been part of Saresh’s speech. Kira glowered through all of it, but Vajra didn’t react until Elara talked about Saresh demanding the Outer Rim armies be sent in to purge the capital.

“Empty the Outer Rim? Did she suggest sending a ribboned-up invite to Dromund Kaas? ‘Come on over and take our fringe territories’?”

Elara made a soft, hissing noise. “What’s worse; her broadcast was public. And as I said, she has influence. There are people who listen to her. Within moments of her speech, the Supreme Commander’s office was flooded with demands to go through with her mad plan. He had to broadcast a response telling people that Saresh—and most of the Republic—did not know what was going on down there. That you’d made the right call. And that abandoning the Outer Rim means… well. Abandoning the Outer Rim!”

“I didn’t want to bring this up,” Kira said. “But my Master Kiwiiks is acquainted with Saresh. The things she says are not flattering.”

“Oh? I thought Master Vajra was your Master.”

“He is, since Coruscant. Master Kiwiiks told me to be with him while she went to secure other projects.”

“And I was grateful for it,” Vajra said. “Without Kira, I’d have been the only Jedi there. The only teenager. A lot of the guards were second-guessing my every order, which didn’t help with the pressure I felt. I felt very alone. It was only thanks to Kira and T7 that I made it out on top. I’ll always be grateful to them—and to Master Kiwiiks—for not abandoning me.”

“I can only imagine,” Sergeant Dorne said sadly. Something in her voice made Vajra Look at her feelings. She was sad and lonely. But grateful, and resolute. Underlying it all was a sense of moral character stronger than anything he’d ever seen before.

She took them to a large office building, one fit for a governor, and pressed the door chime. Seconds later, they were ushered in to see the Governor.

Vajra reached out with his Senses first, and Felt a will powerful enough to rival Master Satele’s. A mind which was so full of determination and zeal that it was almost composed of them. When he was brought before the severe Twi’lek herself, he spied a fierce cunning behind her dark eyes.

But given what he’d just learned about her, his findings made him see her as dangerous, rather than capable.

She stood to greet him. “Welcome to Taris, Master Jedi. I trust you like what you’ve seen on Taris so far?”

“I have. It feels like you’ve managed to create a small, safe island in the middle of this planet. I look forward to seeing what you can do with it in a few years.”

She nodded. “Thank you. So you’re the Jedi who saved the Capital.”

“I did my best. I’m glad I was able to stop Tarnis.”

“Yes, his ‘Planet Prison’ concept,” Saresh said. “The weapon that could cut off a world from the rest of the Galaxy.”

“Considering its potential, it looked rather plain. A lesson there, I suppose.”

“I see. And now you’re looking for other weapons projects that have been compromised. I did not know there was one on Taris.”

“They are ‘Top Secret’ after all. If it makes you feel any better, they hid it from the Jedi High Council as well. One of the reasons why we couldn’t prevent catastrophe until the eleventh hour.”

“Is that right? You seem to have a high estimation of the Jedi Council’s insight.”

“I’m just a teenager, but I was able to find the weapon before the instruments could. Just by Seeing through the Force. Imagine how much stronger their insight is. I understand trust in the Jedi was shaken by the Sacking of Coruscant, but a politician as well-connected as you should know that the failure was the policymakers. The Jedi did not trust the ceasefire, and our Council protested the thinning of Coruscant’s defenses. It was the Senate, which was eager to end the war, at any cost.”

She sat back thoughtfully. “You have a point there. I have been less than charitable about the Jedi lately, but there’s no denying that their decisions have been sound. Even the one of putting you in sole command of the investigation. That turned out better than anyone could have predicted. There’s no denying either, that there’s a lot of idiots and cowards in the Senate. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Would you like refreshments?”

“I’m afraid not, Governor. Time is of the essence. I’d like to finish my tour of this base, and head out within the hour.”

“Perhaps next time, then. But good help is always needed here on Taris, and very hard to find. If you can spare some energy for the beleaguered people under my care, it would be greatly appreciated.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That was interesting,” Kira said. “After all I’ve heard of that woman, I’m glad our reception was so… reasonable.”

“Yes, Sir. Shall we continue your tour?”

Sergeant Dorne took the trio across the base. She showed them their quarters, the dining area, the rec zone, the command center, the secure comms, a refugee camp of all things, and other prominent features.

As they began walking towards their quarters, Kira asked her in a hesitant voice, “Was it hard? Leaving, I mean?”

Dorne’s melancholy rose to the surface. “Easiest, but hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Vajra blinked. “It’s her accent, isn’t it? It sounded a bit like…”

“Yes. I’m from the Empire. A defector. I served in the military, and saw my comrades ordered to do despicable things with frightening regularity. Rather than wait and pray that I never get such an order, I left. But my family is still there. They’ve cut ties with me, which is probably the best thing for their safety.”

“But… have you been accepted here? I’m sorry for asking, but when I mentioned being alone on Coruscant, I could see how hard it resonated.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised at how well you see,” she sighed. “But yes. It’s just as you said. I had parents on Dromund Kaas. A little brother. He’s Padawan Kira’s age. No doubt he’ll be following in our family’s footsteps and joining the army soon. I had few friends, but they were all very dear to me. And I had a fiancé too, James Ardent. I left his ring behind, but I still miss its weight on my finger.”

Her voice quivered, and she wiped tears out of her eyes. For a moment, Vajra saw the true depths of her pain, but also her inner strength. She missed her old life but did not regret leaving. He wished he could inner strength like hers… and he wanted to do something, anything, to comfort her. What would Jasme do? Other than hugs, she was known for listening, clarity, and generosity.

He made a decision on the spot. He pulled one of the crystals out of his pouch, the orange one. “Tell me, Sergeant. Have you read much about Lightsaber crystals?”

Looking perplexed at the change of topic, but shook her head. “I don’t believe I have, Sir.”

“There’s a reason we use some while building Lightsabers, but not others. They’re attuned to the Force. They’re almost alive; they can feel what goes on around them. They remember. They can be overcome by things like pain and suffering.” He showed her the crystal resting in his palm. It shone quite brightly in the sun. “Most curiously, they sing. And not like a song you might hear in the material world. You can hear it in your soul. Most of us can Hear it, softly, on our very first day in the Temple. I want you to have this one.” He offered her the crystal, and saw her eyes widen at the gesture.

“That’s very kind, Master Jedi, but I’m Force-Blind. I doubt I can listen to this… song.”

“The Force is in everything, even the rocks and shrubs. Of course, it’s in you as well. I cannot say this for certain, but I believe even the… Force-Blind… can Hear it, if you meditate enough. This one… it sings a Song which I thought you might need to hear from time to time. Please, take it!”

She accepted it with a trembling hand and gripped it tightly in her fist. “Thank you, Master Jedi.”

“You have a good heart, Sergeant Dorne. I’d ask you to join my crew, if I could. But something tells me that your path will be different. Your new place in the galaxy will arrive at your doorstep soon enough. In the meantime, and perhaps for years after, I hope this helps you.”

She closed her eyes shut. “I have no idea how to commune with the Force. I have meditated before, but not like this.”

“It’s good enough,” he told her. “I’ve heard the ‘standard’ meditation techniques, and it’s similar to what our novices are taught. All you need to do, is listen. If you keep the crystal nearby, or stay near a Force-attuned location like the Jedi Temple, it should be easier to hear its call.”

“I really appreciate your kind gesture, Master Jedi. If it’s possible for a Force-blind to hear this song, I swear I will.”

When she left them at the door, Sergeant Dorne was still smiling. Kira gave Vajra a bone-breaking hug when the door closed. “That was such a kind, sweet thing you did back there!” she whispered. “You’re a sweet little softie, just like Jazz. Never change!”

T7 chirped agreement.

After dropping off their things, the trio took a speeder to the site where Doctor Godera’s lab had been found.

As they approached, both Jedi Sensed several Dark presences.

“Should we sneak, or should we charge?” Kira asked.

“Sneak. Godera may be in there. T7, take the wheel. Continue on this trajectory for a bit, while we jump off. Return in two minutes, and follow us in.”

<Affirmative.>

They drove past the lab, and Kira followed her Master after he’d leapt off. He fell straight to the ground, and landed with an elegant tuck-and-roll. He was moving again as soon as he was vertical, crawling along the underbrush on all fours. Well, on all sixes.

They circled around, and found the sentries alert, but not unduly suspicious. Like a ghost, Vajra crept up on them, while Kira simply used her training as a Shadow to Cloak herself.

When he was close enough, he placed them under a Stasis. Kira walked past him, and took a look around. She used hand signals to tell him what she saw.

Seven guards. Three Sith.

Godera? He mouthed. She shook her head in response. He gave her a scary grin and held up five fingers, and started counting down. She nodded.

On zero, he pulled out his Lightsaber and charged in ahead of her. She slipped in behind him, still cloaked. She wasn’t really needed, but she couldn’t let him have all the fun!

The guards turned at his approach and began firing, one of them with a semiautomatic. His blade batted aside all the fire, sending them right back at them. Six of the seven were down before even he’d reached them, and the seventh was Tossed back into the wall so hard she was knocked senseless.

Kira decided to put her to sleep so that her Master could focus on the Sith.

The largest of the three, a woman with the red skin of a pureblood, bellowed out a challenge. "So, the four-armed freak walks into my hands? Perfect! Come, to Lord Rogant!”

She drew a pair of massive double-bladed Lightsabers, and wielded one in each hand. The other two flanked him, waiting to strike. Rogant approached him, sabers twirling like some out-of-control dynamo. It was an intimidation tactic, Kira thought; not one likely to work on a proper swordsman. And sure enough, Vajra stood firm, looking a little disappointed.

He waited there for a second before closing the gap. Quick as lightning, he took in a step to her left, jabbed, and backed up. The woman howled in rage and pain, the remains of her Lightsaber falling to the ground. His timing was perfect; right after the red blade had swung past, he had attacked her hand, stabbing it and the hilt it held.

Cradling the arm, she held her other saber in front of her like some shield, but he struck at the hilt again, as this time he had an unobstructed strike at her exposed hand.

Her loud scream was cut short when he kicked her jaw with quite some power. She was knocked into the air, and fell on the ground, stunned.

Standing where she’d been moments before, Vajra turned to the Sith on his sides. “Is she the best of you?”

The younger woman, a Dathomiri Zabrak, swallowed, but the human woman screamed in rage and attacked. Her attack was much more standard than Rogant’s, which was all bark and no show. Vajra blocked her strikes with a single hand, not taking a step to any side. No matter how fast she attacked, or how furiously, he broke her momentum.

“Oi, Bleak!” she cried. “Help me! Or do you want Angral to punish us later?”

The Zabrak snapped out of it and attacked with her twin blades.

“That’s better,” Vajra said approvingly. The women were obviously not used to fighting as a team, since they frequently bumped into each other, or cut short the other’s attack run. Once or twice, Vajra playfully knocked one into the other, and they began squabbling with each other as they stood.

“Watch where you’re standing, you fucking bitch!”

“What do you think you’re doing, letting him catch you like that?”

Vajra sighed, and advanced at a walk. Both women jumped and held out their Lightsabers in front of them. Their eyes were burning. Vajra feinted left, and the human tripped the Zabrak in her haste to intercept him. Vajra clove both Lightsabers in the Zabrak’s hands, then looked at the human. The pureblood began to move at last, and tried to gather enough Force for an attack, but Vajra tossed the Zabrak at her, headfirst. There was a crash, twin cries of pain, and silence.

The human looked nervous now. Vajra didn’t give her a chance to attack. He swatted her trembling saber aside, then punched her in the gut, leaving a dent in her armor. She fell down, dazed.

“Look what I found on this guard, boss!” Kira said brightly. “Stun cuffs!”

“Perfect!” Vajra smiled. “Restrain them. I’ll get the ones outside.”

By the time the five survivors awoke, they were all tightly restrained.

“Ohh, my head,” Rogant moaned.

“In case you were wondering, it wasn’t the bad roast you had.”

She gave him an annoyed look, then sighed. “You got us.”

“Getting you was easy. How many times have you tried that spinning stunt?”

“Salting the wound, Jedi?”

“Sorry. It just annoyed me to have such a tactic used against me. I’m not a novice, you know.”

“Right. But you know what I am, now that you beat me? A lamb ready for slaughter. Darth Angral has gone mad since his son died.”

“If you want sanctuary, we can give it to you.”

All three Sith exchanged a very pained look. Before looking back at him. “I’m no coward, Jedi. But I don’t want to be tortured to death like those Black Ops soldiers were.”

Vajra, to his credit, didn’t flinch.

“Why are you on Taris?”

“Because Angral knew you’d be coming here. Why you’re here, we have no idea.”

“And where is Darth Angral?”

“Aboard his ship. He splits his time between torturing the remaining prisoners, partaking in orgies to soothe his pain, and conferring with his confidants.”

“We don’t know where the ship is,” the human sighed. “It was near Hutta, the last we saw, but it was already making ready to depart. We were to return to his estate on Dromund Kaas if we caught you. To Korriban, if we didn’t.”

Kira shook her head. “Shouldn’t be surprised they didn’t know more. Should I call for a pickup?” She waited for the boss to nod before hitting the transmit button on her comm. “Sergeant Dorne? We’ve caught a few Imps, including three Sith. Would you mind sending over a recovery team?”

“Right away, Sirs!”

T7 arrived a moment later. <Fun = over? T7 = wanted to shoot something!>

“Look around, T7. Godera’s not here, but maybe we can find out where he’s been taken.”

A holo in the corner came to life. It was a middle-aged man they didn’t know, but he wore the unmistakable uniform of an Intelligence officer. “It pains me to admit that we don’t have him, Jedi. But we will. I am Watcher One, with Imperial Intelligence. Those men you fought, served me.”

“How did you get here so quickly?”

“Godera is one of the biggest threats to my people. We’ve been looking for him too. And we found this hidey hole not long ago. Coming here required planning, however. If fate had been kinder, we’d have made off with the good doctor months ago.”

“You say you don’t have him…” Vajra frowned. “And I believe you.” Kira’s mouth dropped. “What do you want with me? Why show even a card that’s in your hand?”

“To make a request. Imperial Intelligence is tasked with eliminating threats like Godera. Whatever Var Suthra told you about him is a wild understatement. The man is a god of weapons designs. He worked with your Republic for only a year before his resignation, and that was already enough to make a difference.”

“You’re afraid his weapons could cost you the war if it reignites.”

“The war is the lesser of my concerns. His weapons could kill millions. Just look at the Planet Prison, for heavens’ sake! And Godera’s the type of man who doesn’t care how many eggs he smashes in order to make his omelet.”

“You are sure of this?”

“Imperial Intelligence prides itself on accurate threat assessment.”

“Then you should know the threat Angral poses to us. Especially deranged as he seems to have become. If there’s any one person who can counteract all those weapons, it’s him. Or so I’ve been told.”

“Not inaccurate,” he sighed. “And your point is noted. I’m sorry it’s come to this. If I may have another moment of your time…”

“I’m listening.”

“I don’t like hurting children, even capable ones like yourself. But I have studied your profile. I know how you took down the Fallen Jedi, Bengel Morr.”

“To know that info, he’d need spies on Tython,” Kira moaned.

“That doesn’t matter. Only thing that does, is this. I have devised ways to fight you. If you cross my path, I won’t show you mercy.”

“Answer me this; do you know where Darth Angral is? Or where I can find him?”

He thought for a moment, then smiled sadly. “No, but I know where Rora Seake is. She’s a Sith Lord, and a beast tamer. And she’s trying to become the next Darth Bellicose.”

Kira could feel the chill in Vajra’s stomach from a dozen feet away she looked back at the Intelligence expert to see a sad pity on his face. He knew. “That was low, Watcher One.”

“I know.”

Rogant whistled. “Angral won’t be happy you’re giving up Seake. She’s insane, but she’s useful.”

“I have little choice. I need to find Godera before he does, so I need to slow them down by any means necessary.”

“Tell me about her,” Vajra sounded upset.

“She arrived on Taris to build up a ‘local army,’ so to speak. Tarisian wildlife is rather deadly, and she has a gift of enslaving dozens in a short span of time. The first thing she likes to do after taming beasts, is… breaking them in.”

“Attacking a soft target?”

“Just so. There is a colony, seventeen kilometers from your location. According to my Intel, she’s outdone herself. Built up an army of Ferrazid Hounds, Devourers, Tarisian Nexus, and several Bog Bears. Over a hundred and fifty in total. The colony is fairly large, around six hundred civilians, and have only a few guards. They won’t stand a chance.”

The human Sith snorted. “You are going to be eaten alive, Jedi.”

“Actually, Lord Lua, I calculate it won’t be enough to kill him. He’s better than you think.”

The Sith called Lua glared at him.

“Good hunting, Jedi. I hope you stop her. People like her… make me sick.”

Vajra turned to Kira, who was frightened by the frigid determination on his face. “Stay here, and search for clues with T7. There’s a chance he knows we’re splitting up, and will attack you both while I’m gone. But I know you can handle it now. Ask the base for support, if you need it. I’m taking the speeder, but I’ll be back for you soon.”

“Yes, Master.”

He left without another word, but Kira felt heartened that the rage she’d seen was controlled, rather than wild. “C’mon, T7. Let’s turn this place upside dow— oh, hi there!”

Several troopers walked in, holding guns at the ready. “I’m Captain Targe,” the one in the lead said. “We’re here for your prisoners.”

“They’re over there. Hey, can you call in some guards? I need to go over this place, but Imperial Intelligence might try something fishy.”

“Don’t worry, Sir. Sergeant Dorne… asked me to bring an extra squad, just in case.”

She ignored the note of annoyance in the man’s voice. “T7, if you would?”

Rora Seake approached the village guarded by a dozen of her Ferrazid Hounds. She stood on a rise, and observed the settlement down below as she waited to get noticed. Her lip curled.

The village below lacked any character whatsoever. She could appreciate unique architecture and art in a village, especially if she was going to destroy it, but these soulless imitations of settlements were barely worth the time they took to survey.

It was built entirely of prefabricated parts. Someone, somewhere, had designed parts that could help build up a town this size in less than a week, and everyone had taken to it like fish to water.

This one had been here for more than a year, she’d been told. And look at it! Just a town shit out by some factory!

These people would be a bore to kill, but they should thank her for her attention.

After two minutes, she grew tired of waiting, and released a Force Shout at the closest water tank. There was some panic and confusion, but eventually they started to notice her.

“PEOPLE OF TARIS TOWN ZERO-ZERO-ONE!” she shouted. “I AM RORA SEAKE, AND I AM COME BEARING GLAD TIDINGS!” She grinned widely. “YOUR DREARY EXISTENCE IS AT AN END! REJOICE! CELEBRATE! LET THERE BE A FEAST HERE TONIGHT!”

“She’s a Sith!” someone cried, and others began to run. Blasters were fired in her general direction, but they went wide. Still beaming, she gave a shrill whistle, and the beast army emerged from the trees.

The people fell silent at once, as they noticed the true horror of their situations.

Screams started to ring out from the trapped civilians. But there was a roar of an engine, and a speeder emerged from nowhere. “STAND FIRM!” the occupant shouted. “GATHER EVERYONE IN YOUR STRONGEST STRUCTURE! I’LL DEAL WITH THE BEASTS!”

A blue blade sprang to life in his hand. “Jedi,” Rora breathed. She’d gotten lucky after all.

The villagers took heart at this sudden arrival, and began piling into the community center.

Rora gave her orders. Two shrill whistles, and they began to howl and paw the floor. A third, and they began to attack.

The Jedi waited for the last citizen to enter the building and lock the door behind them, then charged at the attacking beasts. The closest Nexu pounced on him, and he whirled to one side, his blade slicing into its neck as it sailed past. He then charged at the next beast, a Ferrazid Hound. Both jumped at each other, but the Jedi’s leap took him right over the beast. His downward jab stabbed it through the skull.

One loud whimper, and it was dead. Nearly a dozen beasts surrounded him now, and he moved quickly; evading, stabbing, leaping, dashing. Never staying in one place too long. His blue blade sliced through beast after beast, and he wasn’t even winded.

The beasts all harried and harassed him like they did most prey; but he did not turn at feints and bluffs. In fact, he often didn’t turn at all, cutting down her beasts without even looking at them.

In less than a minute, he had killed nearly half her force. She growled, half admiring, half enraged. This one knew how to fight, and fight well. But he wasn’t using the Force, just his Lightsaber. Who was he? Was he a Master? She pulled out her binoculars, and took a closer look at him. She gasped. Four arms, and three eyes? This had to be Darth Angral’s quarry.

She cackled hysterically. “What a fantastic prize has fallen into my lap! Come with me, dogs! Let us dispatch this one personally!”

Her Bog bears charged ahead, roaring ferociously. The boy Knight ignored them until they were close enough. But Rora’s Lightning stopped him from killing them as easily as he had the others. His saber caught the impact, but left him briefly open to the bog bears. The larger one, the alpha, took a swipe at his belly, but the Jedi cut off its paw while still fending off the Lightning. He then deflected the flow away from him for a second before decapitating her bear.

She screamed in rage, but he had already charged for her second. This time, her beast’s bulk hid him from her gaze. She couldn’t tell what he did, but the second bear dropped dead seconds later.

The Jedi charged at her next, leaping from cover to cover to keep her from getting a good lock on him. “Hold still!” she screamed.

“As if that ever works!”

With a yelp, she turned around in time to block his blow.

“I’ll give you this much,” the Jedi said. “Your Lightning is better than Tarnis’.”

She grinned. “Thank you!”

“But it will not save you, no more will these beasts.”

She flinched. His voice had gone colder than a grave all of a sudden, and his eyes were as deadly gales. She yelped again and backed away, Willing her beasts to attack him. The Ferrazid hounds growled and charged; but the hand holding the blade became a blur. Hound after hound was instantly killed. More beasts crawled out to attack him while Rora made a run for it. She no longer thought about getting a reward. She needed to get away! She had miscalculated badly.

But the Jedi was hot on her tail, the beasts proving nothing more than a hindrance to him. Rora began to trip and stumble; she’d not done this kind of exercise in years… hard work was for slaves and grunts!

She looked over her shoulder and saw him only a few feet out of striking range. He took a deep breath before kicking down with enough force to kick up a dust storm. He vanished, and appeared in front of her.

“Mercy!” she tried to scream, but couldn’t find air in her lungs. She tumbled backwards, and only vaguely noticed that the motion was too light. She saw a headless corpse with her armor crumpling backwards.

She saw some of her nexu approach, and begin sniffing at her head.

Her mouth tried to wheeze out a horrified “No…” but she had no lungs. Mercifully, her vision started to go dark as the beast’s open jaws closed in.

Vajra could feel eyes on him; the villagers peered out of the windows anxiously, following his moves as best they could. Soon after killing the Sith, Vajra looked around, searching for beasts which were still lurking about. Most had been killed, but the rest fled when their trap had been broken. Some Nexu had carried off her body, something he had not stopped. It was poetic justice. After confirming they were safe, he turned to the community center. Putting away his Lightsaber, he raised a hand as a signal.

The townsfolk ran out, cheering wildly. Some formed a ring around him and knelt before him, sobbing like mad; others approached to give him hugs and clasp his hands.

“Thank you, Master Jedi, thank you!”

“You came at just the right moment!”

“All the stories we hear… they’re true!”

“You fought like a god out there today!”

“You saved our lives!”

“Please, we’re a small community, but take whatever you need!”

He waited for around ten minutes, accepting their gratitude as best he could and trying not to get crushed by the ones who thronged to embrace him. “I’m really sorry, but I need to get going.”

“Of course, of course! You’re always welcome here!”

As Vajra mounted his speeder, he thought about Watcher One’s choice of words, ‘She’s trying to be the next Darth Bellicose.’ She was well on her way to becoming even worse. With an army of minions, she could have drowned small worlds in misery and fear. Not only could she kill thousands, but if she’d had any wit, she’d learn to do it without being noticed. To harass villagers and force them off their farms and forests, to slowly starve to death while trembling in their homes.

Luckily, she had still been perfecting her art. He caught her before she could become a real danger to the galaxy. He had stopped a creature even worse than Darth Bellicose.

He felt the chill in his heart fade away, to be replaced by something light and glad.

He keyed his comm. “Kira?”

“Hey boss. Done already?”

“Yes. What about you?”

“No attacks, sadly, but T7 did convince one of Godera’s friends out of hiding!”

“I see! I’m on my way.”

#star wars #star wars the old republic #the old republic #swtor #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #jedi knight #Hero of Tython

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simplyotometrash · 2 years

Note

Bud yk how MC can summon the demons no matter where they r? What if MC went back into the human world but ran into some trouble with burglars or gangs and summoned one of the brothers.

But heres the catch. MC has the ability to summon them no matter where he was or doing atm (like when MC summoned Asmo in the dungeon/underground labyrinth) so imagine MC is about to get jumped while walking home and summoned Lucifer but he’s getting ready for bed/trying to prune his feathers. Ya’ll imagine the gang members just seeing a half naked peacock-man appear outta nowhere with a tooth brush in hand and toothpaste in his mouth😂.

TLDR: half naked Lucifer beats some ass with a tooth brush.

Okay so I'm only writing Lucifer for this but please let me know if I should write the others! This was so funny!

Lucifer x Gender-Neutral MC

Genre: Comedy

Warnings: MC is about to get robbed when they summon Lucifer

Summoning Him at the Wrong Time (for him)

You were getting adjusted to living life in the human world again. It wasn't easy, though. You were so used to the Devildom after living there for an entire year. The worst thing was having to readjust to sunlight. The Devildom's perpetual night with varying degrees of darkness made sunlight a bit harsh on the skin and eyes.

You didn't mind it. It was hard to get used to again but it felt good to be back. There were so many things you had missed while you were away. It wasn't as if you would never see the brothers again. You had pacts with them and you were certain you'd see them again in the future. You could help with Diavolo's plan to bring the three worlds together.

The hardest adjustment was not being able to see your boyfriend whenever you wanted. Lucifer had told you not to summon him willy-nilly as he had lots to do. You understood that. He often would be the one to call you so you could catch up. You even agreed that you could summon him once a month just to be able to see each other in person.

There was one other thing you found you hated about being home. You weren't safe walking at night anymore. In the Devildom you had gotten to where you could walk alone whenever you wanted. Demons didn't often bother you because you were Diavolo's guest to the Devildom and they knew better. Humans...well, humans were often cruel for the sake of it.

You were on your way home one evening. You had run a lot of errands that day and grabbed a few snacks at the convenience store on your way home. It was already getting dark, so a lot of the more unsavory type of people were beginning to lurk about confidently. This, unfortunately, made you a target.

You knew you were being followed and that you couldn't just go straight home. So you started walking around the block. The plan was to try and lose them or get to a store to call the police. That didn't quite work so well. Not when you made a wrong turn in a panic and ended up boxed into an alleyway.

"Now, give us everything you've got and we might let you off easy," the man you assumed to be the leader said, brandishing a switchblade in hand.

Lucifer, I need help! You thought, eyes trained on the men in front of you.

What came next was not quite what you were expecting.

Lucifer did appear in front of you as you had hoped, but he was in his demon form and only wearing his pajama pants. He had one of his tools to help him preen the feathers of his wings in hand. He looked down at you and then at the men.

"W-w-what's going on!?" One of the men stumbled backward, falling flat on his ass against the pavement. The others were shaking, clearly unable to comprehend what just happened.

"I believe that I should be the one asking that, not you, pathetic human," he said coldly. He looked back at you and his face softened slightly. "What's going on here? Is this what it looks like?"

"I was on my way home and these thugs tried to rob me," you explained hurriedly. A couple of the thugs had taken off but most were still standing there, dumbfounded.

"I see. Then I suppose I have no choice."

"W-wait! D-d-don't hurt us, demon!" That comment elicited a chuckle from Lucifer's throat.

He didn't even hesitate to backhand the first man who had the nerve to rush at him. You almost felt sorry for the guy as he went flying and hit the pavement. A few others actually tried to fight with your boyfriend, though they were easily fended off while he casually stretched his wings. The leader, however, had steeled himself and rushed at Lucifer with his knife in hand.

"That was a mistake," Lucifer snarled, his own hand wrapped around the wrist of the leader. You heard bones crunching and then a loud scream before he let go.

That left only the two of you.

"My, my the human world isn't as safe as I thought it would be. You humans really haven't changed much." He gently took your hand and brought it to his lips.

"Yeah, well, humans suck. Is it wrong that I prefer the company of demons?" You couldn't hide the chuckle that you gave at your own comment. "Wanna come back to my place? I can make us dinner, if you're hungry at least."

Lucifer shifted into his "human" form and nodded. "I would like that, yes."

You two walked back to your place together, talking about your days as if nothing had even happened.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me fic #waylonwrites

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devils-dares · 2 years

Note

Could I request a hurt/comfort Matt Murdock oneshot? Prompt 7 from angst and 40 from fluff? Quite like a love confession (preferably from Matt?) Whatever works best for you! :)

i'm so sorry this took me so long to get out to you!

7. "I love you." "No you don't"

40. "Why are you scared of loving?"

When you enter the apartment, the first thing that welcomes you is the bloody handprint on the wall and the trail of blood leading from the roof access to the bathroom, and then back to the kitchen. Setting your bag down on the end table by the front door, you start rolling your sleeves up as you make your way to the kitchen, spotting another handprint on the rolling door to his bedroom. You fill up a basin full of warm water and grab a few rags, if the state of his apartment is anything to go by, he’s caked in blood.

Softly knocking on the wall before you enter so he knows you’re coming in, you gasp at the sight of him. His black top is on the ground in a soaked heap, pants following suit. He himself was sat in the corner opposite his bed, blank eyes staring into the empty room as he continued to drip blood onto the floor, not a single muscle moving or reacting to you in any way.

Sighing, you slowly approach him, placing the basin and the rags down next to him before sitting in front of him. He lets you put your hands on him, not even flinching when you begin scrubbing at the cuts on his shoulders and chest. You have to walk to and from the bathroom and bedroom often just to empty out and refill the now red-tinted basin.

“Can I get you aspirin? Water? Something to eat?” Your questions are followed by silence. Taking a deep breath, sit down next to him again and hold his face in your hands. Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, you try to keep calm, not wanting to bombard him with the smell of your worrying. Even now, as he’s all cleaned up and bandaged, he still doesn’t make a move to hold you, not even acknowledge your presence. You take a second to think about your next move, knowing that if you were to make a wrong one, Matt wouldn’t let you back in. Hell, you weren’t even expecting to come home to your boyfriend like this, wanting nothing more than to melt your stresses away in a hot, steamy shower.

“Matthew? You need to talk to me, honey.” You say in a gentle, yet commandeering voice. Had the room not been silent and your senses tuned into him, you would’ve missed the quiet, “No,” escaping his lips.

“I just want to help, Matt. I care about you, I love you.”

“No you don’t.” Quiet befalls the both of you yet again. You stand, allow him to have a moment to cool off, taking his clothes to rinse the blood off in the bathroom sink. After cleaning his clothes, you take a wet rag to the various handprints left around his apartment, and then begin scrubbing the floor.

“Stop it.” You hear him say from where he was standing behind you. You shake your head, ignoring him, and continue scrubbing. He walks over to you and snatches the rag out of your hands.

“I said stop it.” He says, voice conveying aggression.

“Why? Why should I? Last I checked, I live here too. Last I checked, you’re my boyfriend and you promised to tell me everything. Last I checked, I love you and you love me back. What’s with the guilty sulk, Matt? What happened tonight?” Your voice raises and shakes with every passing word.

“You don’t love me.”

“Oh my g- why are you so scared of loving me?”

“Because they know your name now! The people… the people I’m up against know your name, your connection to Daredevil, do you understand? They’re targeting you. You need to go, move out, forget me, change your name. Whatever it takes to keep you alive because if you die- if you die because of me? I can’t change that! I can’t go around punching people to bring you back so if you hurt me once, just this once, I can keep you safe.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not leaving, Matt. That’s not fair to me. My life is here now in Hell’s Kitchen, I’m not uprooting it because some thugs know me now.”

“Not fair to you? Not fucking fair to you? The person I love is in danger and you’re so fucking stubborn that you won’t leave me and save yourself?” He begins to scream at you.

“Matt, I’m not leaving you.”

“I don’t want you here! I want you to leave and never fucking come back.” You laugh at his words darkly.

“Can’t push me away, not like this. I know you and you’ll break me and scream at me just to think you’re protecting me. You forget, I’ve met Stick and all of his shitty ways of pushing people away. Besides, if they want me so bad, they’ll go to any length to find me, to hurt me. Staying here with you is the safest place I can be.” Angry tears stream down Matt’s face.

“You’re so fucking stubborn.”

“Yeah, it comes in handy when it comes to you.” You push his hands away where they cross in front of his chest and hold him tightly, minding the bandages and the stitches. Finally, after a minute or two of holding him just so, you feel his hands raise from his sides and wrap around you tightly.

“I can’t lose you.” He murmurs into your neck.

“You won’t, you won’t allow yourself to lose me, you stubborn son of a bitch.”

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kunikuzxshi · 3 years

Note

Dabi, Tomura, Compress, Overhaul and Chrono reaction when doctor inform them that their kid is quirkless

Tomura's relieved, because there's no chance that his past would repeat itself, except with his own kid

Because if it happened this time, it would at least end with you dead, and maybe him, but mainly because he's scared of what would happen to you

But at the same time, it means his kid isn't immune to his quirk

And since his "line of work" isn't exactly the safest, it would make them an easy target

He's terrified to touch them

Doesn't fully believe the doctors too

He won't carry any pictures of them, mention them, or interact with them until he's home

Can't risk anyone finding out about his kid

"Randomly" sticks up for 'em because "They're nice to Y/N and they like them"

If someone does find out, he just watches them and keeps his child close when they're around

Keeps artist gloves that he stole from some random PLF member

All in all, kinda overprotective but he's got a reason

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

Dabi's fine with it

It doesn't really change anything

He has a kid, he still has you, and he doesn't really care that they're quirkless

All he cares about is that he has a kid and you

Entertains them with his quirk since they don't have one

Teaches them about the original leagues' quirk(s)

Like Shig, he's concerned about them being an easy target, but he's not as cautious

In fact, he thinks that if they know he has a kid, people won't touch 'em

Which is partially true

Anyone that even mentions that his kid is quirkless is instantly fried

Only uses his quirk around the child if they're a safe distance away

Or if they're next to you because you're easier to see, so there's a smaller chance he won't notice the kid

Lets Toga and Twice interact with them.

Occasionally Spinner and Compress too

Will not let Shigaraki stay in the same room as them

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

Overhaul's disappointed to say the least

Yes, he has a kid now

But kids get sick a lot

And they're filthy

Noisy

Not to mention expensive too

To him, the only reason you'd want a kid is for company, or a quirk

He already has you, Chrono, Mimic, and the rest of the thug group

So if he had a kid, it would be for a quirk

But his kid doesn't, out of all fucking kids

He'll just ignore the kid completely, no matter how hard you try to get them to interact or bond

At least he doesn't treat them like Eri

But it's mainly because you're there honestly

They'd basically become everyone's kid except Overhaul's

Secretly loves them but it's too late because in his mind his kid probably hates him already

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

Chronostasis is the exact opposite

He probably loves them even more because they're quirkless

Always tells them that they're unique because most of the world has quirk now, and they're one that doesn't

Loves you even more if that's possible somehow because they're your kid too

Tries to get Eri to play with them

Spoils them (but makes sure they're grateful and not actually spoiled)

Has you all wear the clothes he wears for a family picture, except they're at least in your size

Brags about his kid because they're unique

Overhaul hates him now because he won't shut up

His first priority is always you and his kid

Fuck Overhaul's plans, he just wants to cuddle

Uses the excuse that he's dirty or that he's sick to get at least a day off just so he can stay with you two

Finds it adorable when they ask about his quirk and how it works

It's even better for him when they ask about yours and how it works (if you have one)

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

Mr. Compress is a mix between Dabi and Chrono

Thinks his kid is unique, but he doesn't really care if they have a quirk or not

Still thinks that his kid is the best thing that happened to him (you too)

Loves it when his kid asks him to show them his quirk

Tells them stories about the missions he went on and how he met the league and you

Tries to teach them what you like so they can take care of you when he's busy

Let's Shigaraki touch them ONLY if he has something on to stop his quirk

For the rest of the league, he's fine with it though

Child's gonna be spoiled I'm sorry

Can't tell you if they'll be a brat or not

He's gonna be the favorite parent, sorry buddy

#league of villains #shie hissaikai #tomura shigaraki x reader #sako atsuhiro x reader #dabi x reader #shigaraki fluff #dabi fluff #bnha overhaul #kai chisaki #shigaraki tomura #hari kurono x reader #mr compress

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oonajaeadira · 3 years

Text

LOSING MY RELIGION: CHAPTER 7: THE SUBSTITUTE

(Image: stock photo by Blur Life 1975)

Pairing: Post Season 2 Din Djarin / force sensitive reader. Soft, slow burn on both sides, internal struggles. Alternating POV.

Warnings: A sickening amount of pining and fluff. Like really gross. Wine. Kissing. Gut-wrenching feelings of betrayal.

A/N: Holy balls this one is just wall-to-wall yearning and fluff and I got a little over-indulgent hi I’m going to go eat an entire block of cheese to REPLACE WHAT I BARFED IN HERE. Also, since you’re separated, there’s not a lot of Din until the end, and then it’s all Din all the time and of course Din time is my favorite time. Thanks for your patience.

Again, if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know. <3

Summary: In your separation, you and Din are distracted by your yearning for one another, leading you each to make your own mistakes.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

MASTERLIST - LMR MASTERLIST

←-Previous Chapter 6: The Survivor

________________

PART 1: DIN DJARIN

This one’s got him nervous.

The bounties Karga hefted over to him were rough quarry, a murderer and a Quarren thug, and there was that 3-for-1 gang that is going to pay big while saving him some time. Took on a few new scrapes and things almost got out of hand with the last one when he realized he was out of detonators, but overall, nothing he can’t handle. They’re all going to bring in good credit, should keep him going for a while. And bringing them in warm means Karga gets a sparkling rep, means he’ll get better commissions next time, means more bank for Din when he eventually takes those down too. The quarries will get more challenging as well. Good.

This one though. None of his hunts have been this challenging.

It’s the last one, then he can come for you. He hasn’t heard from Ahsoka, doesn’t have another name yet, and the 30 days aren’t quite up, but he’s almost done here and there’s no need to waste time. Every time he faces down the barrel of a blaster, takes a vibroblade to the vambrace or a kick to the gut, it’s just one more thing he has to do on the path back to you.

You’re not on his mind every moment; he does know how to focus. He puts you away when he’s working for the most part. You are hard-wired to his emotional circuitry--you deserve to be part of his more human functions--but there’s no room for emotions when he’s thinking fast and bearing down on a target. He keeps you safe for the quiet times in between: a lonely meal, something to occupy half his brain while he cleans his weapons, an aid to help him sleep. Although there was the one time he head-butted that guy, causing a flash of warmth as he remembered that you were the last one to touch your forehead to his...a kiss on the beskar…. And he’d never admit it to you, but he uploaded your holo message to a puck that he keeps with him at all times. For what. Luck? Comfort? Motivation? He doesn’t really know. It’s not like he actually watches it that often. It creates too much of a mean ache. It’s a better feeling just to know it’s there. That you’re there.

You’ve gotten under his armor.

Figuratively.

Hopefully soon, literally.

He absolutely does not wonder if you think about him. He’s confident you do. Mostly. That one off-hand comment you made about using the mind trick on guys sidling up to you at the cantina though...sounds like that might happen a lot.

It’s only going to make him break something if he lets that roll around in his head too much.

He’s made no claim on you. Technically. He doesn’t like it, makes his insides burn like blaster fire, but he recognizes that you can do what you want. Ultimately he trusts that he’s captured your main interest.

If you want to be claimed, he’s sure you’ll let him know.

Anyway. This hunt. Focus. His quarry is high-risk, adept, smart--there’s a good chance the target might catch on to the pursuit and target him first, and if that happens, it’s going to take everything he’s got not to make mistakes; all senses on high alert. He’s going to have to adapt, play loose and fast, and try some unusual tactics. He just might make it out alive.

Just this once, he removes your holo message from his belt, turns it on, lets it play. Your thanks. Your trust. Your sweet insinuation. The way you tease and taunt. It infuriates and seduces him. It’s never unwelcome, it’s almost a comfort in its tickling irritation. How would you like it if he did that to you? A corner of his mouth pulls up. He’d like to see what happens if he got under your skin and upset that even keel. He’s seen your eyes on fire when he’s challenged you during a spar. He’d like to see it again.

That’s enough.

He reluctantly stows the puck in the weapons locker.

No distractions on this one.

Hangs up the jetpack, can’t use it where he’s going.

Checks and rechecks every piece of beskar to make sure it’s secure and in place.

Dank farrik. Stop stalling. Get it done.

The port is busy tonight, which is good. Gives him more opportunity not to be noticed as he slips out of the Crest, into the crowds, and then into the shadows, keeping his head down and his guard up.

One more thing he has to do on the path back to you.

________________

PART 2: YOU

The afternoon after you got home, light streamed in from the high windows in your bedroom. You opened your eyes and looked up into the domed ceiling, registered where you were: home.

Where you were the night before: wrapped up in Din’s arms aboard the Crest.

Why you were sleeping in your traveling clothes and how you slept through to afternoon: you didn’t sleep the whole ride from Ajan Kloss and just came home and crashed.

Why your ears were ringing: you missed the hum of engines and the insects here were too loud.

Why the back of your neck was tingling.

Why you could still smell leather and metal.

Why your heart was aching, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

Looks like you left on a great adventure and came home with the best kind of souvenirs.

Oh, the sanisteam felt good though. As much as you liked flying with Din, the balance of hyperspace travel, childcare, high-emotional situations, all on top of everything the two of you started exploring together...it kind of rung you out. But so much could be repaired by a long sleep in a good bed, a steady stream of cleansing hot water, and a full meal.

Thank the stars you had caf in your cooler. But nothing else. You’d planned to just have a recovery day at home, but you hadn’t eaten in hours and it looked like you’ll have to venture out, which also meant you might as well make a stop at the clinic.

After grabbing a bite to eat at the market, it was late-afternoon by the time you slid in through the clinic doors.

Mala squealed and bowled you over with a welcome home embrace, an exciting announcement about some results on your cultures, and desperate questions about your time away.

“Was it successful?”

“It was.”

“You can’t tell me anything, can you.”

“No, other than it’s Jedi-related. Sorry, Mala. It’s for your safety. And for those I’m helping.”

“No, no. I understand. I’m just so proud of you. What about the Mandalorian? Did the helmet come off?”

What were you supposed to tell her? You really couldn’t lie to your best girl and yet...you had wanted to keep Din for yourself for a while. Mala is hot-blooded and likes to tease and push things along. You just needed some time. “I’m sure it did. Man has to eat.”

“I see. Well, that’s disappointing. So he’s all business then? No getting under the armor, huh.”

“No getting under the armor.” Yet. “But he’s a good partner. Capable. Considerate. It was a good trip. Show me what happened with the cultures, I can’t wait to see if my theories were any good….”

There was no reason to bring up the painful topic of your next run. No reason on this first day to tell her how you would be gone more often and longer. Couldn’t find a way just to explain to her in vague terms that you would be splitting your life in two because you’d found a cause to fight for and a man who had as many vulnerabilities hidden inside him as you do. Surely there’d be plenty of time in the days to come.

That evening, you closed the clinic on time for once and took her out to the cantina. Sitting at the bar, deflecting Geoffin’s questions, you mopped the floor with Mala at a game of cards and she paid you in gossip that you’d missed over the last few weeks.

It was good to be home. Just for the moment.

________________

When you come home that first evening back, the house is too quiet. No dim lights or clicks, nothing dark and metallic, the rooms airy and open. A different kind of home than the mobile one you’d accepted recently. You just stand in the dark for a minute and listen to your own breathing, hear it almost echo in the space under the dull keen of spring insects droning outside.

Punching on the lights doesn't help. It just makes it too bright on top of quiet, the lights in the house not as atmospheric as the cantina. Or the Crest.

Without an agenda you wander into your bedroom and plunk yourself onto your bed, not completely committed to lying down in it. It’s late, but your schedule is still skewed and you know you won’t be able to sleep. Your bag is still leaning against the wall, cast off for later. Well, it’s later now; maybe you could unpack and get your laundry done. You drag it toward you with your foot through a strap--too lazy to just lean in and grab it--and dump the contents unceremoniously onto the mattress. Clothing, toiletries, lightsaber, datapad, sundries, and….one lump of dark fabric that doesn’t belong to you.

Huh. One heavy lump of dark fabric that doesn’t belong to you, you discover, now that you’ve picked it up and begun to unroll it, trying to discern what had crawled into your bag.

The Darksaber.

Does an hour go by while you just let it lay in your lap? While you stare down at it? While you track a fingernail through the ridges on the hilt and imagine Din with one eye on the cockpit ladder while he stashed it in your bag?

There’s no message with it.

It’s a message in itself.

I know spending more time with this will make you happy.

I want you to think of me while I’m gone.

This is an extra guarantee to you that I’ll come back.

I trust you.

You trace its rough angles with your fingertips, pressing against its metallic hardness, knowing that all you have to do is touch it just right and it would light up for you.

A truth that applies to more than just lightsabers.

As it buzzes to life, you turn it slowly, watching it cut the air with its lazy hum, a priceless piece of Mandalorian history, the weapon of a king in a tiny, common, Raydonian bedroom.

________________

It took a handful of days, but you don’t miss waking up on the Crest as much anymore. The 30 days are counting down and it’s been almost three weeks so you’re on the other side of it now. For a little while you were afraid you would cool down. Or that he would. But your ache has given way to trust and affirmation, a little piece of truth you can just carry with you in your pocket. Or cuddle up next to in bed.

Perhaps literally.

It’s something you’re probably never going to tell anyone, just a little something to take the edge off…. You started sleeping with the Darksaber next to your pillow. It’s there when you fall asleep and it’s there when you wake up, its elegant violence watching over you while you slumber. A dark protection. A priceless promise.

And every morning it makes you grin stupidly to yourself; if only the Council of First Knowledge could see you now, sharing your bed with a precious piece of Jedi history.

Sharing your bed with a weapon.

A Mandalorian weapon.

Kriffing hells, wouldn’t the Vizsla clan be furious to know the symbol of their leadership was the bedfellow of a former Jedi.

You revel in the glee of all of it. Every single morning.

And every single morning, it motivates you to carry the weapon to the garden and train, just a few minutes of feeling the thrumming pull of its Force, it’s intoxicating power slicing through the morning...before you stow it in the secret compartment under your bed, next to its current mate; your own lightsaber.

Then it’s breakfast, caf and research. You have some ideas where to start looking for kyber, but it’s going to be a lot of on-the-ground trial and error. With Din’s pull toward efficiency--and the need not to waste fuel--you may have to negotiate with him if you want to fulfill Luke’s request.

Or not. It’s Din. He may just do whatever you ask.

Hmm. Whatever you ask.

And finally it’s off to the clinic. Clients. Cultures. Downtime with Mala. Dusk drinks at the cantina. A game of sabacc with the crew there. Back home much too late, to crawl into bed alongside your security surrogate.

This is how a lot of your days go. A return to a kind of normal with passing moments of intense missing. The challenge is to keep it balanced; no need to let a man wreck your every waking moment.

Maybe just your dreaming ones.

________________

Your biggest challenge comes on the first day of Flowering Season.

The annual festival starts tonight and off-worlders will be streaming in from all over the sector. It’s a typical spring festival, full of fertility underpinnings and the general carousing madness. The market will be full of specialty fruits and cakes and wine. In the daytime the square will host fertility dances and symbolic rites representative of all the inhabitant species, and then the whole place will give way to a more adult party with drums and dancing late into the night.

Every year you and Mala have a tradition of picking out your own hapless off-worlders and spectacularly breaking hearts. That’s what they come here for anyway, and it’s fun to oblige. Mala’s husband, Ban, generally joins in the tradition as well, leaving you girls to do your own damage while he seduces some wayward man or woman in his own way. It’s a game you all play once a year--hells, that most of the settlement inhabitants of a certain age play once a year--and every year Mala out-performs her husband. And every year you disappoint your friends. The couple never go so far as to bring their victims home--that’s their rule--but you’re single and you have no such barriers and Mala just wants to see you having a good time with someone. You pity her for choosing the wrong girl to live vicariously through.

“Here, sit.” she pushes you into a chair in the exam room, coming at you with a fistfull of flowers and pins as you prepare for your tortuous annual makeover. “Tonight’s challenge for me is three, Ban is sticking with two. I assume you are just going for the usual one.” She starts weaving flowers into your hair, fixing them with the pins, yanking and pulling in her excitement, always insisting on making you up to look like some forest sprite to match her own wreathed and vine-woven lekku.

It’s a slow day. Nobody ever comes in during Flowering Season. They’re all either enjoying the festival or a vacation--since the settlement gets overrun, some families take the time to get the hells out of town. You never really learn to shut the clinic down during this time, but you’re also afraid of being closed if someone really needs assistance. The last thing you want is some kid spending a few days with an ear infection just because the rest of the place is losing its mind.

“Yeah,” you wince as Mala digs a pin in a little tighter than you’d like, “you know me. One is probably going to be enough to fuel me for another year.”

“I’m upping my challenge to not only break three hearts myself, but find someone who is going to follow you home and break yours, schutta.”

“Sure.” You have half a mind to confess that your heart isn’t present to be broken, but you don’t want to answer any questions. And there are other things you need to confess that you’ve put off too long. You watch the light filtering through the windows high above you, a few rogue flower petals drifting in. She’s in a good mood, maybe now’s the right time. “Say, Mala, I’ve been meaning to tell you...I’d like you to start looking for an apprentice.”

Her hands stop working through your hair, leaving a flower dangling in your eye. Her sudden stillness and silence hits you like a fist. “So. You’re finally leaving.” There’s nothing but softness in her tone, no sadness or blame, just love and resignation. But she might as well have really punched you for as much as it still hits hard

How. How can you think of leaving her? Is that really what you want? “No. No. Not entirely. But. I will be going out again soon. And I don’t know for how long this time. I don’t know what will happen from here on out, my friend. This will always be my home and I’ll always find my way back here--”

“But your life is changing. And you’re needed out there.”

You snake a hand back around your head, reaching for hers, and even though she takes it right away, there is a moment that you were afraid she might not. “I always told you the call would come.”

“I know. I just thought maybe this adventure got it out of your system.”

“You can always holo me. And I’ll check in often. I will be here now and then. You’ll always be my first partner, my Mala.”

She makes her way around you, kneeling, reaching up to move the offending flower out of your face. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve been different. Something changed you out there, not all of you came back. I can tell your heart is being pulled. And it’s okay! It is. As long as it makes you happy. And as long as you don’t disappear forever.”

“I have no plans to. And it does make me happy. It’s...brought a lot of things into focus for me. Put me back on a path that went dark. I got some questions answered. I don’t have bad dreams anymore.”

Her hands shoot out and grab your face, bringing your forehead to hers. “Oh my little, schutta. I don’t follow your Force, but I know it does well by you. And now it’s brought you peace and path--” she kisses your cheek hard, “--and I will miss you, but not tonight. Tonight I will celebrate by putting a beautiful boy in your bed, so help me stars and moons.”

If she only knew...she’d drop the game for tonight and send you straight back to Din. “I am sorry to tell you this, babe, but you’re going to lose that bet. Especially if you let me out looking like this. Are you going to finish or what?”

________________

North Settlement isn’t a tiny town by any means, but it’s not overpopulated. During Flowering Season though, you can barely make your way through the throngs on the market path. Every year gets a little more crazy as the word gets out that it’s worth visiting the festival. The bioluminescent plants that stud the landscape are in full bloom tonight, some of them spilling petals through the air, raining down over the streets like snowfall, collecting in corners, being scooped up by festival goers and tossed around. The only other light comes from a few large lanterns spaced out every hundred feet or so, otherwise, most of the revellers wear the glowing flowers in their hair or on their heads, making the crowd a bobbing sea of floral neon.

The main marketplace has been cleaned and prettied up and is open for the night market, some stalls selling specialty items and foods only found for these few days, some of them rented out by off-worlders hawking their own goods--there’s a rare salts merchant that comes by every year that you’ll need to seek out. And at the far end, there’s a kind of terminal, a public square where music plays all night and people dance en masse. Every year your path is the same: make your way through the market, drink the wine, peruse the wares, then dance and flirt for the rest of the night. First night is always the best--least overrun, less rowdy.

Mala links her arm in yours so you won’t get separated, making it a little slower-going through the swarm. But she’s keeping a running list of all potential targets and you love watching her hone in like a sweetbee to the very best flowers.

“That one over there, the blue one with the long lekku.”

“He looks like your husband.”

“Maybe that’s why I like him. Oooh. Look to your left. Tall. Blonde human.”

“Not my type.”

“Pffft. Your type changes every year. What are you looking for this time?”

You shrug, non-committal. “Oh, I don’t know. Wookiee, maybe.”

“What about that one in the ranch gear? What do you think, dewback herder?” She points to a tall handsome man, muscular, mustache, something of a rakish, crooked smile as he waits to be served at a wine station. “That one wants riding. He’s obviously looking for it. You could get to him before anyone else.”

It should be easy to laugh off, but the guy is appealing. You don’t have any real designs on him, but you see his features and wonder what it would be like to lift the helmet and find something like that underneath. He checks all the boxes--dark hair, dark eyes, facial hair--it’s not quite right though. Too...smiley. Not enough grump. Din’s had years of stoicism, you bet he has a hell of a pout.

You’ve taken too long to answer and Mala takes this as a sign. “Let’s go get some wine.”

“What? No. I’m not drinking tonight.” It seems like a bad idea. Good way to trigger maudlin feelings...and you’re already teetering after the conversation with your friend earlier.

“Really? But you love Rayvine. If you don’t get some now, you’ll have to wait for next year. And! What if you’re not around for next year’s festival? I know you’ll regret it….” She pulls dewy eyes at you, playing on your sympathies. That was a low blow.

“FINE.” You roll your eyes in mock frustration as she’s pulling you over to the stand. She’s not wrong after all. You would miss the rare local wine and this particular stall is always generous with their pour; might as well belly up. And, more than that...if you weren’t around next year, you’d regret not enjoying this night with her while you could. Just one cup. Drink slow. Think happy loving thoughts.

Mala has all kinds of room on her side, but she insists on taking it all, pressing you in closer to the mustached man. And you’ll admit it isn’t unpleasant to be squeezed up beside him as you wait for your drink, a warm wall of masculine flesh. He’s good-looking, but maybe a little too forward as he grins down at you and lightly puts a hand around to settle on your lower back. It makes sense, it’s a crowded place, everyone’s in a friendly mood, he’s your typical outer-rim rancher with outdated notions of chivalry, and you both need somewhere for your arms to go in order to get purchase at the bar. In another year, this would be one and done right out of the gate.

“You from around here, sweet miss?”

Oof. He’s a little overly smooth, but you’re flattered anyway.

“I am. And I can tell you’re not. Welcome to Raydonia.”

Mala pretends not to be watching, waving at the barkeep and ordering two cups. She moves to the music and at one point lightly hip-checks you, bumping you into the guy a little more. Your previous years’ actions are seeing their consequence here; since you’ve never been courageous with being physically forward, normally you would have thanked her for the escalation; it’s hard to be mad at her.

“Sorry,” you say, not wanting him to get too much of the wrong impression. Kind of. Not really.

But he takes Mala for a stranger and shifts his position to one of protection, moving behind and placing his hands on each side of you on the bar to keep you from being further jostled. “Can I buy you a cup?”

Okay. This is nice, but it’s gone too far down a road you don’t want to commit to tonight. You point towards Mala. “It’s fine, She’s my friend. She’s getting mine.”

“Let me get both of those,” he shouts over the crowd noise to the bartender.

“Really,” meaning your protest to be kindly--he’s actually being a nice guy, relatively, if just a bit backwater in his tactics, “It’s okay.”

There’s some commotion behind you, some kind of jostling and shoving and confusion. Before you know it, someone is yelling, and a man in a tan leather flight jacket is being shoved into the wine station, upsetting your trio. He goes sprawling, trying to catch himself with one hand on the counter, but the other goes flying and catches the rancher in the jaw, who then slams into you as he goes reeling, knocking you to the ground. It all happens so fast, you’re not really sure how you got here. The man who was so recently all about you is now yelling at the folks who started the commotion, and it’s the guy in the flight jacket who is squatting at your side, grabbing your hands in his, pulling you to your feet.

“Sorry. You okay?” He looks truly embarrassed, not really able to meet your eyes. He just keeps looking at your hands in his. But you’re up now. He can let go. Poor guy. He must have got whacked good.

“Yeah, thanks. Are you okay?”

He blinks up at you, an embarrassed grin tugging at the corner of his mouth--another cute one, too bad you’re not playing Mala’s game, you might easily beat her this year--but then he quickly turns you around and gently ushers you away from the stall. “Looks like there’s gonna be a fight. Better get out of here.”

“But my friend--”

Mala’s voice rings out from beyond the ring of trouble. “Over here!” You spot her with two cups raised above her head and make for her. Once you reach your goal, she hands you one and you turn around to thank your savior, meaning to offer it to him for his kindness. But he stayed at the stall, most likely trying to de-escalate whatever’s happening there. He’s being shoved, the rancher throwing a pointed finger in his face, and him throwing up his hands, not wanting a fight. They could be brothers; another dark-haired man, another nice guy with protector instincts that in another year you could have enjoyed spending more time talking to. And this one was even cuter than the first.

Mala and you share a look, shrug your shoulders, and move on down the street. Flowering Season brings out all the cliche mating rituals, everyone wants to posture and be the winner, everyone is a potential knight in shining armor, and when they’re just your type, you have to remind yourself that it’s not real life; it’s easy to get wound up with all the festival energy swirling around you. Let them fend off the troublemakers so you can have your escape. There will be more boys around who aren’t involved in scuffles.

And you find some of them, not just boys either. With so many people, you can’t look around without catching eyes, and there are enough shared smiles and approaches that it’s time to bring out the mind trick just to get yourself out of a couple unwanted conversations as you move from stall to stall.

Mala though, loves every interaction and leans into any attention she gets. She is playing to win. After a while, waiting for her gets a little boring and you start moving ahead, catching her eye and shooting her a couple of hand signals to let her know you’ll meet her over by the music. She winks and nods, giving her concentration back to her current flirtation.

Once you finally find the rare salts stall, the wine is starting to work its way into your mood. It’s strong stuff and one cup of it is usually enough to get you in a relaxed and happy place, never really past that, and you’ve pretty much arrived.

But it also means you’re in danger of buying out this entire stall. These all look exciting and appealing, and you’re sure the right combination will truly make you a much better cook than you are. The one odd thing about traveling through hyperspace is that it messes with your sense of taste--something about all the recycled air and the body’s reaction to artificial gravity--so you’d like to stock up on stronger spices and recipe enhancers for your next run with Din.

Din. You imagine he’s on a hunt right about now. Toughing it out on some harsh planet, pulling out his blaster to defend himself, hovering above some poor sucker as he restrains them, eating some crap fast-and-ready meal with his helmet off all by himself... You close your eyes and throw out your feelings as if there was some way the Force ran strong enough in you that you’d be able to see him wherever he was in the galaxy, whatever moon he’s under, through all that beskar steel. But of course you don’t, all you see when you close your eyes is what you choose to see every time you close your eyes--a helmet lifting to a blurred face that houses soft lips and dark eyes. And you feel yourself under his protection always, which is both heartwarming and carnal, and is most certainly the wine talking.

You’ve been holding the packet of salt in your hand for a hot minute and don’t really notice it until a hand comes out and lifts it out of yours. “You don’t want that one, little birdie.”

Little bird. Your heart pings and you look up into the face of a man with deep, kind eyes, webbed by a few handsome wrinkles--he’s seen some things. He replaces the packet on the seller’s table and picks up another one down the row. “Trust me. That other one is synthetic and tastes like nothing. This one comes from an actual ocean on Trask. It’ll make all the difference.” His voice is a low baritone that rumbles through you and you want to hear it again. “This your stall?”

“Nah. I’ve just been around. Know my salts. Now this one--” he reaches over for a smaller packet, and you take a moment to take in his profile, his prominent chin, his messy hair--dark, of course it’s dark-- and pursed lips. “This one comes from Naboo and some say you can taste the sunset in it, but it will cost you.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the packets, not worrying about the cost. Speak to me again, sir. “Any more recommendations?”

“Those are the best. You might as well stock up.” He just stands there, smiling down at you.

Oh. Oops. Was your interest obvious? You’re wearing a smitten smile, aren’t you. Blast. Now you’re caught in an actual interaction when all you really wanted was a more shallow appreciation. The wine is making you slow on the uptake. But you lean into what your heart is currently obsessing over. “Out of curiosity, why did you call me that?”

“Call you what? Little birdie?”

“Yes. Someone I know has a similar nickname for me.”

Another kind smile. “Well, maybe it just suits you.”

Okay, you need to make your purchases and go. You grab a few more packets of each and another black and red mix that looks interesting if nothing else and dump them on the purchase station. “Well, thanks for the tips. I’m sure these will help me make a nice meal for him.”

He nods, taking the hint and turns to go, his body leaving before his eyes do. Okay. Crisis averted. Time to get back to being on your toes. You’re getting awful distracted. It’s partially the wine. Partially the festival energy. Partially the fact that you miss Din so kriffing much and you’d better just take a moment and acknowledge your attachment so you can see it for the weakness it is and get on with your night knowing that’s where you’re starting from. Do not succumb to loneliness. You can make it ten-ish more days.

You move toward the square, pulled toward the sound of drums and reedy flutes, a beat that pushes through everyone’s bones--or species-specific equivalent--and propels them to movement. After a few minutes of searching the perimeter, you find Mala, and you can tell by the wildness of her dancing that she’s got at least two good cups in her, if not three. Probably three. To match her bet.

She waves for you to follow her closer into the musicians, but you just don’t have the energy to dance with her when she’s this riled up. She kisses you rowdily and forgivingly on the cheek, bouncing with the beat of the drums, moving forward, allowing herself to be swallowed by the dancing mass. By the next song she’s already found someone. Yet another good-looking dark-haired off-worlder. It’s like a plague around here and your frequency bias is running haywire.

Normally, you’d be in there with her, you’d be scanning the crowd, looking for someone to dance with; this year’s challenge. But everyone here is split into two groups: the ones that don’t interest you in any way, and the ones that do nothing for you but to remind you of the one person you want.

Why didn’t you just look at his face? If you had a specific face in mind, you might not be looking for a possible example in every person you see. Instead all you can do is judge and compare, “if that is what he looked like, would I be happy?” If you had just accepted him as he was, you wouldn’t be in this state. You’d still miss him, but it would be easier; nobody here would have potential to be the face of your dreams. The best you can do is acknowledge that none of these guys are shiny and therefore none of them worthy.

That makes you picture Din here, in full beskar, at this big party and you immediately start giggling. He’d stick out so much, so intimidating, parting the crowd as terrified partiers moved to get away from him. No way he’s a reveller. He’d just stand here next to you silently, hand on his belt, dropped into one hip, sighing under the helmet, maybe slightly amused, but ultimately wanting it to be over. But he’d soften if you held onto him. He’d stop thinking about somewhere else he could be that’s better than this.

Cozy with this thought, you are absent-mindedly scanning the crowd, your gaze falling on someone also at the edge of the circle of dancing bodies. A familiar face, the man in the leather flight jacket who extradited you from the scuffle earlier. He’s devouring some kind of grilled meat off the bone like a greedy child, messily dropping bits here and there, watching the big party. His jacket is ill-fitting, like something he kept from his younger years and nobody told him how to better dress himself. But it does pull across his broad chest, enhancing it, and that’s a plus for sure. Overall though, he’s a bit of an endearing mess.

You stare a little too long. His eyes catch yours as he’s finishing the drumstick and licking his fingers. He pauses mid lick to the thumb to raise the rest of his hand in a small wave of recognition. You nod and smile and then leave the eye-lock. Kriff.

By the end of the song, he’s moved in, standing near enough that you’ll have to acknowledge him.

He seems sad and shy, like one of those long-haul, lone-freighter pilots. You know the type. Doesn’t get much interaction between supply runs. Usually comes into the cantina, drinks alone. Gone in the morning without incident. But this one looks particularly introverted and didn’t know what he was getting into when he set down here today. Fell smack-dab into a social situation he’s not totally equipped for, he’s constantly getting jostled and moving aside for people, trying to be polite. You usually don’t feel too bad for these guys. But in the midst of all this, you can sense how overwhelmed he is. Even though you’re exhausted, you lean toward him and raise your voice over the music.

“You’re an off-worlder!” He nods, giving you the smallest, quickest shy smile. “You picked a hell of a time to visit Raydonia! You a supply runner?”

You watch him take a lungful of air and force his voice out over the noise, “More or less!”

“Have you been here during Flowering Season before?”

“No!”

“So...it’s a fertility festival! People get riled up, drink the Rayvine wine, and get a little bit messy for a few days! It’s about that time of night people start pairing off! If you’re quick, you may be able to find yourself a nice local girl to keep you company!”

“I think I found her!”

The music comes to an abrupt halt and applause breaks through the crowd. He’s checking in with you out of the corner of his eye. You know this look. It took a lot of courage for him to come over and choose you and he’s trying something new. He at least deserves a kind smile. “You’re cute. And I mean that. And I really should thank you for earlier, by the way. But my goods are not for sale.”

He nods, barely suppressing a nervous laugh, clears his throat, trying to play it off. “Sorry. I just thought you looked...lonely.”

He’s not wrong, you are lonely and you suppose it doesn’t hurt to talk. It’s just too easy to take a little pity on him. Just so long as you let him know where you stand. The musicians begin a slow but joyful song, something about pretty blossoms and still waters. It’s not as loud as the previous song, but you still have to raise your voice a little; even though being a little tipsy makes you self-conscious about talking too loud.

“Well, the one person I’d love to be here isn’t, and that’s got me a little down. But don’t you worry about it. I’ll get over it. Like I said though, you’d better hurry. This is traditionally one of the last songs of the night.”

He smiles. “Not really my thing. But I’ll leave you alone. Didn’t mean to bother you.” Yet, he doesn’t move off. He’s...just going to stand where he is. And what. Pretend the conversation’s just over? Awkward.

Ugh. You can sense this guy’s not a threat. He’s nice, and sweet, probably just lonely himself. Mala will want to leave after this song and you’ll have an out. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just…. What’s your story? Where are you from?”

“I’m on the move a lot--” Just ahead of you in the crowd, you see Mala trying to get your attention. She smiles mischievously and makes a very obvious, rude gesture with her hands. “Is that your friend over there?”

“That’s Mala. She’s drunk...aaaaand she obviously thinks I should go home with you. Please don’t take offense. Or encouragement.”

While his focus is on Mala--still making faces and gestures--you allow yourself another look at this guy. He’s slim but sturdy and more attractive up close. Broad shoulders pushing at the leather flight jacket. You bet it would feel really nice to rest your forehead on that chest and throw your arms around those wide shoulders. They don’t have pauldrons on them, but kriff, you could close your eyes and imagine; here in the dim light of the festival, not so different from the lighting on the ship. When he turns back to you, he flounders, searching for something to say or a question to ask, obviously thrown off balance by Mala being Mala.

You can’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry about her. Really. What were you saying? You move around a lot? Find a local girl in every port?”

“No. I don’t do that.”

You laugh at this too, amused at this blunt admission or possible line. “Well! You just made me feel pretty special then.”

“Pretty’s the right word.”

Bullseye.

You feel your face fall and the world deadens around you; you are suddenly very aware that you stopped drinking at the right time, because that went straight to your heart in a way that you really wish it hadn’t. You just entered a very dangerous mood.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

You shake your head, conflicted. “That was very sweet. You’re very nice. But, to be honest, I’m a little tipsy and you’re making me miss someone very badly, so I need….” to put my arms around those shoulders and just let you hold me, oh stars this is bad…maybe just this one off-worlder, just to take the edge and the ache off, pretend he’s Mandalorian...

“...you need to go?”

You feel it coming out of you before you can help it, after all, it’s just a game, right? “I need to kiss you, once, and then I need to walk away. Would that be okay?”

This poor man. This poor, shy man, the look on his face, like a lothcat in the searchbeam. He is a guest here! What is wrong with you. You weren’t going to do this this year.

Oh, but those shoulders. That thick brown hair. Din has broad shoulders and thick brown hair.

NO. You. Apologize. Now. You walk away. Do it.

“I’m sorry. That was...I hope you have a nice time at the festival.”

You make a quick turn and start to move, but there’s suddenly a kind hand on your arm, turning you back around and your stomach plummets.

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay.” His eyebrows are twisted in concern and he himself seems to be speaking off the cuff. “What's..what’s his name?”

Don’t cry. Catch your breath. “Din. His name is Din.” Thank you for giving me a reason to say it out loud for the first time in weeks.

“I think I can be ‘Din’ for one kiss.”

Ohhhhh that really gets you and kriff you’re going to regret this, but you miss him so, so much right now, and before you lose your nerve, this sweet man just lets you take the lead, lets you take his handsome face in your hands and seal your lips to his--

The kiss is nice. It’s good. It’s simple and sweet. And it’s so soft.

It’s everything you wish you’d taken from Din, everything you’re afraid won’t happen easily and naturally when the helmet finally comes off. This is how it usually works, isn’t it? An easy like-what-you-see attraction? Why are you so afraid of the risk of what’s unseen?

But it’s not just about what you see. What you see in this man is not why you like this man. You see someone he’s not, something you’d rather have.

You squeeze your eyes shut and you imagine a silver helmet. You run your hands over his shoulders and they’re Din’s stronger ones under that cape, the feeling of safety and protection rushing at you hard and fast. You stop just short of crashing your body against his, catch yourself before you get too carried away because this man does not have beskar to protect him from what you want right now.

But he is a very nice substitute, a small pit-stop while you run the marathon of 10 more days for what you really crave.

When you pull away and look up at him, you have to admit, he is darling; in another life, it would be easy to fall for him, ask him to stay. His face is a mix of concern and confusion, he’s maybe even a little bemused. Smitten. He makes no effort to hide it and it melts you. His hands rest on your hips and very gently pull at you, unable to help himself, and he leans in, wanting another. But you step back, breathing harder than you’d like to be.

He lets you, a little disappointed, but a true gentleman; the spell broken.

He reaches up to awkwardly touch your hair. It’s a strange little gesture, but it's also endearing how transfixed he is. “Let me get you some water. You need some water.”

“I need...to apologize.”

He smiles brightly now, not shyly, not forced, a true warm smile that crinkles his eyes, his confidence found. “No you don’t. I--”

“Not just to you,” you huff out in an embarrassed laugh, backing away from his reach, ignoring your lingering pull toward him. “But thank you. If I wasn’t...If I didn’t...you’re really nice. I hope you have a good time here.” Look at his face. You weren’t even looking to play the game tonight and you reached your goal by accident. Heart. Broken.

This time you really leave. This time, he lets you go.

Thank the stars.

Somewhere on the outskirts of the night market Mala catches up to you, throwing her arms around your neck as you walk together. “Hey! I saw that, schutta. Good choice! Oh, he was such a sweet little thing. Like a scared little mouse. You should have seen his face when you walked away.”

Pity. Remorse. “Oh, I saw it.”

“So cute. I’m surprised you’re always able to just leave them wanting more.”

“My heart wasn’t in it.”

“Well, I was watching.” She pokes a finger into your side, causing you to jump like always, you hate it and find comfort in it at the same time. “If your heart wasn’t in it, some other part of you certainly was. You can bet he’ll be back next year looking for you.”

Poke. Jump. Laughter.

You allow her joviality to put a patch on your pain and lean into her. She really believes she’s here to walk you home like some protective sister, but she hasn’t noticed how you’re the one supporting her, and how you’ve turned away from the street that leads to yours and onto the one that leads to hers. But it doesn’t matter, as long as she sings softly in your ear all the way to her front door, taking your mind off the constant cringe cramping your heart.

________________

There may be a little more drinking under the trees in Mala’s back garden. More laughter. A good story about the man you saw her with, how he tried to put his hand in the back pocket of her pants and found her daughter’s sticky candy. When Ban comes home, you all trade your stories. Not the best year ever, but still a fun one. You stay late enough to sober up and try to leave when you’re on a high note.

You still feel a little guilty as you walk home, but go easy on yourself, justifying it as best you can. Yes, you messed with a cute off-worlder. You may have even felt drawn to keep going. But you do that every year and, like every year, you walked away.

And in the end, deep down, it wasn’t him you were kissing. Not really.

It’s time to stop this. You’re a grown woman and your life does not revolve around a man. He doesn’t have any claim on you...stop feeling guilty. Remember. It maybe your last festival with Mala. Focus on that. You’ll laugh about this the next time you come back to visit.

It’s not terribly late when you get in, but exhaustion hits you. Your path leads you to the refresher and then to the bedroom in the dark, not even bothering with the lights. But as you pass the common room, you see a blinking blue beacon.

There’s a holo waiting for you.

As you press the button, the hazy blue image pops to light, your heart speeding up at the sight of a very familiar helmet.

“Little bird. I’m on my way to Nevaro. I haven’t heard anything from Ahsoka and I don’t have a name to go after, but you’re on my way. If you want to try to find those crystal things, we can get going as early as tomorrow, if you’re up for it….”

The message keeps going. But you have to pause it and walk away. Catch your breath. Stop the siren in your head.

Tomorrow? Your heart twists in regret. You couldn’t have waited one more day??? Oh, what have you done, you silly, lovestruck girl? You could have saved up all that yearning, ripped off that helmet as soon as you saw him again.... and you wasted it on some...scruffy nerf herder. So. Angry. At yourself. Not that he would know or has to, but you know, and you can’t just flip a switch and make the regret go away.

You go to the counter and pour yourself some water, check the cooler for caf--you shouldn’t drink it this late, but you’re certainly going to need it in the morning. You….look around for something else to do here...but there’s nothing…. Blast. Maybe you should break something. Kriffing kriff.

The holo receiver blinks furiously in the dark.

It’ll just keep doing that until you finish watching the message.

You should. You should you should you should; it’ll be easier to face the visor and get your guilt out while he’s not here. Gain your courage and then you’ll have the night to sleep on it. If you can just get calm before tomorrow, you can let this little blip in your patience be a lesson to you that you need to work on your emotional control. You let attachment do damage to your judgment, and you made a mistake, that’s all.

You down the water and hover your hand over the button.

Breathe.

For Din.

Click.

The message isn’t that much longer. Just a few sentences. But by the end, you begin to tremble, wondering...is what you just heard... No. No.

In your sorry state, as you watch the message again, you run the flash course of confusion, wonder, guilt, anger, and that intense brand of adoration that makes you collapse to the floor and weep.

And then you watch it again.

And again.

________________

PART 3: DIN

Din ducks back through the busy port, returns to the Crest, breathing hard, empty-handed, but mission accomplished.

The first thing he does is open the weapons locker, check and double-check that all the beskar is secure….

...it’s all here….

...right where he left it.

With bare hands he reaches up and brushes all the flower petals out of his hair. He can still feel your mouth on his, your hands cupping his face, still tastes the sweet wine on your lips. He can’t seem to control his breath, it keeps catching, and he squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, willing his body back under his control.

Dank farrik, the anxiety that comes with all those people walking by, looking, not looking, being just another face to most, of interest to a few, skin out in the warm breeze and the noise and the night. And you. The driving force of this crazy scheme, the only thing that put him at ease out there, his one familiar compass point. You with your eyes shining and flowers in your hair, the one set of eyes he both dreaded finding him and yet wanted on him, how they softened for him, how you smiled…. Your mouth fit so perfectly with his and damn damn damn he wanted more….

He puts his face in his hands as he wills his systems back to stability and watches it all play out again…

Found you right away. Watched that other man put you in the cage of his arms. Got distracted. Walked into someone. Ended up in a scuffle. Kriff, your hands in his, he was about to tell you, but wanted to get you away from the trouble so he could reveal himself to you with less commotion. And then he had to find you again, kept his distance, watched your easy enjoyment of the night, chuckled to himself as he recognized your tricks, watched you sink into a sweet melancholy as the night went on. He meant to surprise you. But in that final conversation, just being with you like that...just a normal guy meeting a girl... He selfishly let his fantasy play out. He made mistakes. Couldn’t help it. So pretty..missing him so much...

Kriffing hells, you’re going to be so furious.

He meant to tell you, meant to reveal himself in that final moment, but his head was reeling and…. When you walked away...your face…

You hurt yourself on him. His fault on multiple fronts.

He can fix it. He’s going to fix it.

That abandoned silver bucket stares out at him from the weapons locker. The visor blank. Not disapproving, or withering as he would have expected or deserved. But there’s no reason for shame or weakness here. It still offers to hold honor if he does. After all, he’s worn it doing much less honorable things in his past than the few times he found the need to remove it.

He didn’t take it off in front of anyone. He took it off here, in the Crest and then just didn’t wear it out.

Another loophole.

You know what? Kriff loopholes. This is His Way. He’s still finding it.

Still, the beskar is a part of him, the most precious thing he owns for which he sacrificed so much, and he was low-grade anxious about it every moment he was gone and out of it.

He peels off the leather flight jacket--looted from one of the quarries before throwing them in the carbonite. It was a bit tight, but it did the job of putting him in someone else’s shoes. (Well, also, someone else’s boots helped with that.) Sundry other clothes pilfered from other victims come off and land in a corner.

He takes his time restoring his armor, finding a meditation in its steps, the litany of his being. The flight suit. Boots. Shin guards. Soft armor. All the beskar pieces. The belt arrangement. Tucking in and securing the cloak. The braces and gloves. Every piece brings him a step closer to himself, protecting his vulnerabilities so he can do the same for others.

The familiar metal cocoon brings the final relief as the helmet slides down over his head, pulling him into the moment and switching him back into mission mode; time for the final checklist. He heads up the ladder, rung over rung, settles himself in the pilot’s seat and begins hitting buttons, entering in the code for your holo receiver.

He flips the transmit switch.

“There’s something you need to know. Don’t be angry. Or embarrassed. And I make no excuses.

“You’re not the one who needs to apologize about tonight.

“If you can forgive me, I’m docked outside East Gate. Drink some water.”

End transmission.

Send.

__________________

An hour or two passes. You don’t show.

You probably passed out and didn’t see the message.

Or maybe you’re really angry and you’re punishing him. He wouldn’t blame you.

Well, you know he’s here and he knows where you are. If you still don’t show tomorrow, he’ll seek you out and take his lumps. Might as well get a few hours. He shuts the systems down, checks the ramp locks, climbs into his bunk and is out within minutes.

It’s a valuable life skill they teach in the fighting corps: how to go down fast and catch sleep on the fly.

________________

Before too long though, he’s awake again.

There’s a steady hollow tapping on the hull, precisely on the outside of the bunk.

Its rhythm is mirrored on the inside of his breastplate. Less hollow. Definitely louder.

He hits the remote on his bracer. Listens as the ramp descends.

Gives it a count of ten.

Hits the remote again. Listens as the ramp comes up.

Time to face the music.

When the bunk hatch opens, he moves to slide out--

--but you’re like a whirlwind in the small space, rushing in on top of him, pinning him down, wilder than he’s ever seen you, furious, yes, but also laughing, gritting your teeth at him, slapping your palms on the breastplate hard with every angry word.

“You stupid, stupid Mando! Why? Why??? I could feel you! I could sense you, but I didn’t trust what I was being shown! You sweet, beautiful, monstrous--! I missed you so much and this is what you do??? ”

You’re a gorgeous dichotomy, flowers still pinned in your hair but fire in your eyes, a forgotten deity of fertility and destruction. He catches your hands before you hurt yourself, surprised by how much he’s loving this passionate, lively side of you, and watches your lips press together when you hear him chuckling through the modulator.

The glare you cast down at him suddenly carries a very quiet, very real danger. Your beautiful chest is heaving, but you're not laughing anymore. “Was it fun? Making me look pathetic?”

“No. No. Hey.” You soften like a fire being capped, calming to an embered glow when he takes your captured hands, sliding his thumbs under and up your palms to flatten out your fists. He presses your palms to the angled cheeks of the helmet, softly stroking your fingers under his own. “That’s not...the right word. For how you look.”

Then he lifts his hands away, leaving yours behind and in control.

Pretty’s the right word.

Bullseye.

Although he didn’t plan on being flat on his back, he still has you exactly where he wants you, here, straddling his supine form, running your fingertips along the beveled beskar angles in the moments before the lift. He drags gloved hands lightly up and down your thighs, watching you through the visor, waiting for you to...hells. Do whatever you want.

The helmet slides up and off, your eyes never leaving his as you set it aside, pushing it into a corner in the small space. He will replay this moment later when he’s away on hunts, the way you shake your head, your content sigh, then finally your relenting smile.

The scent of flowers and wine fill his senses, and then it burns off, leaving just you underneath.

Finally your touch. Your skin on his.

And it is everything.

You run your palms over his bearded jaw. Drag a finger down the long ridge of his nose. Both hands glide over his brow, gently smoothing out his knitted scowl, leisurely running in parallel down his cheeks to meet again at his chin. And then, while you’re distracted--using a fingertip or two to explore his mustache and lips in great detail--he runs his eyes across your face, caressing it just as lovingly all over with his gaze, waiting for the inevitable moment when you’ll lower it close to his.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

It’s even better than the first kiss. Because this time, your hands rake through his hair, curl around his ears, drift down his neck, just generally creating wells of pleasing ache inside him as your lips seal to his.

Please, please don’t ever stop touching. Please. Your skin is my world.

You pull back and run a hand around the side of his face, over his jaw, behind his neck to grab on tight so that the third kiss is deep and long and full of you sighing against him. It’s the sweetest, softest thing he’s ever heard with his own naked ears and he files it away with the permanent goal of using any and every opportunity he can find to pull it out of you again.

After that, he loses count. It’s all just one long, amazing kiss, a thousand thousand in one. Some of them land on his cheeks, his jaw, chin, one on his nose, a soft one on his forehead, your hands alternate between gentle and grasping and your breath is sweet and warm and musical. This is more touch than he’s received since before he can remember and it’s overwhelming him in the best possible way; it is sending him into a full-on euphoria. He has to keep remembering to check in with his hands--whether they’re on your thighs or back or neck--just to make sure he’s not digging in or gripping too hard in his love-drunk state; the last thing he wants to do is hurt you when you’re being so damned sweet to him.

When you finally lean back, he’s utterly dazed, completely at your mercy. His lips open and there’s just one huff of vocalized air as if you’ve punched him in the solar.

His eyes fall closed.

He swallows.

Breathes.

“You still mad?”

The backs of your fingers trail feather light over his cheekbone and down through his beard as you drop your voice to a dangerous whisper, sending a shiver through him.

“I declare war. I will kill you with kissing, Din Djarin.”

“Then I will gladly die a warrior’s death.”

“I won’t go easy on you.” “Good.”

Your nose touches his gently. Your forehead to his. Your lips on his. One more time. Always wanting one more time.

He’s disappointed when he feels you pull yourself off of him, but it’s a short-lived ache as you replace your warmth elsewhere, cradling yourself up against his side, laying your head on the beskar, and wrapping your arm up around his neck, burying your hand in his hair. If you were a lothcat, you’d be folded up proudly around your latest prey.

If he was a lothcat, he’d be purring.

I missed you.

There’s barely enough room in the bunk for him by himself. But with you, the quarters can’t be close enough.

You probably drift off before he does, but in his bliss, it’s hard to tell.

________________

Next Chapter 8: The Consort -->

I need you all to see this beautiful art based on this chapter by my friend Maia over at @mjpens!!!!! Lookit the look on his FACE!

Original post can be found here.

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SPECIAL AUTHOR’S NOTE:

This is actually the first chapter I ever conceived in this series and thought I’d need a couple of chapters to build up to it. Didn’t realize the story would take over and require half a dozen chapters to get here! So. This one’s been a while coming on my part and apologies for the length because I just ROLLED IN IT.

But it was a challenge, and I worried about how it would play...I confess I almost gave up on it and just skipped ahead, it made me so nervous. So if you liked it and want to help me out, give me a DM (please don’t spoil it in the comments) and let me know when you suspected/figured out the twist, or if it was even a twist at all for you. It’s totally fine if you saw through it the whole time--I can take it, promise. ( I am a different kind of artist in my daily life and taking constructive crit is part of my career.) I hope you still enjoyed it. It’s hard to see what it looks like from the outside and I’d like to know how well it played. It will help me become a better writer.

Also. Fair warning that I will go where the characters want me to go, so things may get spicier from here on out. I will post warnings.

I will not give up on Soft Din. I will not give up on fluff and yearning.

Because of this, I do not anticipate any spice to be terribly graphic. Just gushingly evocative.

I will always gravitate toward the heart and the wonders of just being understood and touched by someone who loves you.

One nation under Soft Din.

Pining and fluff for the people.

Amen.

--Adira.

P.s. Also, here is a sexytime Darksaber hilt for you. WHO SELLS THEIR PRODUCTS LIKE THIS? ‘CAUSE IT’S WORKING.

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