Broken Rules

If It’s Lovin’ That You Want

“…to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.”

Parings: Mafia Boss!Kim Namjoon x Wife!Reader

Genre: Arranged Marriage AU, Slight Mafia AU, Strangers 2 Lovers, Age-Gap(everyone’s legal),  Angst, Smut, A sprinkle of Fluff, Oneshot

Ratings: NSFW, Mature, R, 18+

Word Count: 10K

Summary: He’s dangerous (so they say), but he’ll give you anything you want. Even the things that money can’t buy. You just have to ask for it.

Warnings: Mature, Mafia related and dark themes, a little violence(she slaps him once), Insecurities, Cursing, Explicit Sex, Unprotected Sex, Very light Dom/Sub/Switch Themes(like probably none at all but just to be safe), Impreg Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Praise Kink, A little spanking, Oral Sex ( M. & F. Receiving), Thigh Riding, Slight hair Pulling, Squirting, Light Choking, Creampie, Throat fucking, Biting/Marking, Nipple/Breast Play, Knife Play(consent is given and he just pops a button on her shirt with it), Body Worshipping, Some Blood, Mentions violent acts, Fingering, Vanilla Sex(wow Dee), Crying. This is a slightly darker fic. Please proceed with caution.

A/N: Well here it is. This is just something I needed to do. Sorry, if you don’t like it. I apologize for any errors

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TELEGRAPH AVE [smau] || masterlist

>> from the moment she’d met him, matsukawa issei had done nothing but make her life a living hell. years of annoying her on a daily basis for the sake of his own entertainment. it’s like there’s no escaping him, even in college. her only saving grace is his best friend – her best friend – who’s stuck in the middle. so after years of watching them fight, makki’s got a plan. a really bad plan. but what happens when they realize they’ve all been hiding something – something that could change the dynamic of the entire group? << 

pairing : matsukawa issei x f!reader x hanamaki takahiro [poly au]

genres : college!au, crack!au, humor, fluff, will def end up being nsfw at some point, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers

warnings : nsfw language and eventually content, marijuana and alchohol, an unprecedented amount of swearing on this blog, the inside of my mind is a chaotic place so i apologize in advance

a/n : this au idea came to me in a fever dream and refuses to back off so here we go 

status : ongoing

start date : [11/23/2020]

update schedule : MWF [twice per day]

taglist : [closed]

masterlist

>> playlist <<

intros pt. 1 || intros pt. 2

[1] shut up bitch basket

[2] i hate it here

[3] no fighting

[4] coexisting peacefully??

[5] please tell me it’s taco tuesday

[6] this mf

[7] matsukawa issei to the rescue???

[8] keep lying to yourself

[9] im trapped

[10] that’s clingy makki for you

[11] was it that bitch kindaichi

[12] right,,, haha anyways

[13] mind your business, rat

[14] kick his ass babe

[15] i think we need to talk

[16] like how horses get???

filtering light 「 ch. 1 」

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pairing: park jimin x reader x jeon jungkook

includes: bunny!reader, human!park jimin, human!jeon jungkook, golden retriever!jung hoseok, human!min yoongi, tiger!kim taehyung, human!kim namjoon, human!kim seokjin.

word count: 6k

warnings: none

summary: the reader is a bunny hybrid with a past that has left her traumatized and struggling to heal. some things can be helped with therapy, but some things can only be fixed through realizing you're not all of the things that hurt you—you are, in fact, just loved.

[ one ] [ two ] [ three ] [ four ] [ five ] [ six ] [ seven ]

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The garden of The Violet was lush and sprawling, filling everything the eye could see with green leaves, bright flowers, and twinkling butterflies. The day was perfect; spring had just begun and the days were perfectly cool, the sun warming whatever parts of people it could touch. The humans moving around were all smiling, making polite conversation, and snacking on whatever food had been put out by the catering company. The banner that hung over the entrance to the garden reminded everyone that they were there for a cause: The Violet Hybrid Awareness Fund. As if the attendees could forget anyway.

The Violet had set up the event to raise awareness for hybrid care and hybrid lives—something the foundation had become directly involved in when they opened a shelter of their own almost a decade prior. Hybrid rights was a young movement but there were more and more people dedicating themselves to being a voice for the hybrids who were constantly being silenced. The Violet had invited some of the community’s most powerful and influential people to spend the day learning more about hybrid life and how they can help hybrids even if they didn’t want to adopt one.

There had been classes on almost every kind of hybrid and what they were like. There were classes on hybrid treatment (and cases of mistreatment). There were classes detailing The Violet’s plan to improve as many hybrid lives as possible. Currently, hybrids still had to be adopted to be free, and when they were in public they were required by law to wear their collars. The Violet, however, wanted hybrids to be enabled to gain their independence and autonomy without fear of humans interfering or hurting them.

While it was now generally frowned upon to have hybrids as servants, there were plenty of people in the world who thought of hybrids as property they paid for and could do what they wanted with. There were a few programs forming that worked to create policies that protected hybrids and made it possible to prosecute people who treated their hybrids inhumanely, but there was still a lot of work to be done. The Violet was asking communities to partner with them in the fight.

The morning had been filled with information and passionate words from founders of The Violet as well as from employees who had one story or another of how they were faced with the injustice of hybrid treatment and how they chose to stand and fight for those who were not allowed to fight for themselves. It was all very emotional and moving, if Park Jimin did say so himself.

Jimin had been invited alongside his partner, Jeon Jungkook, and a few of their friends. They felt strongly about the treatment of hybrids—anyone with eyes to see the abuse they suffered would be—but truly the two had no idea there was so much they didn’t know about hybrids in general. Their friend Namjoon was more knowledgeable on the subject, and he had been excited about the event for weeks. Namjoon was heavily involved in The Violet’s efforts to raise the quality of life for hybrids, even volunteering his time on top of donating hundreds of thousands of dollars to the foundation every year. How he found time on top of being the CEO of his own clean energy company was anyone’s guess. But if he struggled with balance it didn’t show as he approached the table his people sat at. He was grinning with excitement.

“Are you excited to meet the hybrids?” He asked, sitting down and stealing a cheese cracker off of Jungkook’s plate.

“Hybrids?” Jimin asked, looking up from the pamphlet he’d been reading. It was about hybrid nesting and he found it interesting enough that he’d been reading in silence, paying little attention to his surroundings until Namjoon spoke up.

“Yeah, the lady said it earlier. Some hybrids from the shelter are going to be here so we can meet them.” Jungkook remembered.

“Oh,” was all Jimin said.

He felt a little overwhelmed with information about the reality hybrids faced. In the seminar he sat in, they had talked about cases in which hybrids were mistreated and defended themselves but were impounded as a result. Past shelters were nothing like what The Violet had going on. There were pictures of small cages, unsanitary living conditions, and overcrowding. Staff members were just as likely to abuse the hybrids they were responsible for as the monsters the hybrids had just escaped.

“One of my trainers has a hybrid,” Jungkook said around a bite of melon. “She’s a cat hybrid. Kind of feisty.”

“Our CFO has a cat hybrid.” Namjoon nodded. “They usually have their person and everyone else can fuck off.” He chuckled.

“What kind of hybrid is the best to work with?” Jungkook asked Namjoon, wide eyes inquiring up at him.

“I get along well with dog hybrids. They’re the most approachable.”

“You mean you scare the other ones off.”  Jimin laughed. Namjoon blushed and shifted in his seat like he was being put out by the teasing.

“Ah—okay, okay.” He rolled his eyes. Everyone knew Namjoon was a bit clumsy. Dog hybrids found it funny if anything. He did in fact alarm a lot of the prey hybrids, who were already weary of him because of his size. “Anyway, most of the hybrids visiting will be low key. Some dogs, some cats, maybe a hamster. The more agreeable hybrids.”

“Agreeable?” Jungkook questioned.

“Yeah,  the ones who are okay with people for the most part. Some of the more exotic hybrids take a while to warm up to humans and wouldn’t benefit from something like this.” He sipped his drink. “But The Violet wanted to bring some hybrids who wouldn’t mind people but could also benefit from more exposure to people.”

The three men hummed in thought.

“Will you know any of them?” Jimin asked.

“No, probably not. Most of my work is done in the offices.”

And they fell into conversation about Namjoon’s work with The Violet, his business trying to make clean energy for the city, and his partner Jin. Jin was out of town on his own business, and wasn’t able to make it. None of the men missed the way Namjoon’s eyes softened when he spoke about missing his husband. It made the guys promise to try and distract him until Jin got back, making an offer to look around at the new art exhibit that had opened downtown. Namjoon was taking them up on that when the hybrids arrived.

There was no announcement at first, so as not to make the hybrids uncomfortable. But slowly, they started trickling in from inside the building. The first to be noticed was a golden retriever that spoke loudly and with an excited lilt in his tone. There was a scottish fold hybrid that sat alone until a few women approached her to make conversation. There weren’t more than twenty-five hybrids but the guests could see where they were based on the pockets of people that surrounded them.

Most thrived on the attention, their tails shaking back and forth behind them as they answered people’s questions. Others were visibly nervous and it seemed as though the staff members would notice and subtly guide attendees elsewhere so the hybrid would not be overwhelmed. It was truly interesting to witness. With images of hybrids being mistreated still fresh in their minds, everyone was being mindful and kind.

After about fifteen minutes, the announcement was finally made that The Violet’s hybrids had arrived and were making themselves comfortable. There were some activities for everyone to do to just relax and have fun. A corner for painting with easels and canvases was set up off to the side, away from where a game of soccer had started out between some dog hybrids and a few athletes who had come to support The Violet. Some younger hybrids were drawing with chalk along the walkways of the garden. Some hybrids kept to themselves and others joined in groups with humans, making small talk and just enjoying the opportunity to meet people who weren’t staff members. Everyone seemed occupied, doing their own thing, and Jungkook had decided he wanted to try his hand at painting.

There were a couple mouse hybrids that had started up in the paint area, and he greeted them as he looked around the supplies for what he might want. Jungkook had seen hybrids in passing, but had never really interacted with them. None of his friends owned any, and the ones he had met on the street were often not allowed to interact with strangers. That was why an event like this was important, he thought, to teach hybrids they shouldn’t have to be afraid of strangers. Though, a small part of his mind whispered that more often than not hybrids had a reason to fear humans. Regardless, humans should learn to be more comfortable with hybrids as well.

He grabbed a few sheets of watercolor paper, some brushes, a pen, some paint, and headed back to the table where his friends were. On his way he also snagged a plate of pastries, grinning to himself at the sight of the sweets. He placed his things down on the table and realized Jimin was talking with a hybrid. It was the golden retriever he had seen come out first.

When the hybrid got to the table where Jimin and Namjoon were chatting, he told them his name was Hoseok. Hoseok was very obviously friendly and extroverted. He had made his rounds talking to anyone and everyone. His conversation with Jimin was about what kind of work Jimin did. Jimin, it turned out, worked in security.

“Yeah? Like Park Systems level security?” Hoseok joked. Park Systems was a well known security company based in the city. The company was trusted with most of the big business security teams as well as basic home security systems. Hoseok had made the joke because the idea of the CEO of Park Systems being at The Violet talking to a golden retriever hybrid seemed laughable. When Jimin extended his hand and introduced himself as Park Jimin, Hoseok’s face had dropped in shock.

“No way.”

Hoseok had a million questions about it. He erupted in a flurry of inquiries. Jungkook was giggling at the hybrid’s enthusiasm when Namjoon leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“Hey, Kook, I think you have a shadow.”

Jungkook looked at him with confusion and Namjoon’s eyes flicked over his shoulder. The younger man slowly turned his head and there, pretending to play with a wildflower, was a hybrid he hadn’t noticed before.

You had started out at the front of the garden, playing with some of the younger hybrids and making hop-scotch. The kids loved when you jumped around with them, your ears flopping back and forth. You were only the second bunny hybrid The Violet had housed, and the children all found you adorable. However, when they had inevitably run off to play, you were left to your own devices with no excuse to avoid talking to the humans around.

You knew the staff was keeping a close eye on you. This was the first event you had been to since you came to The Violet, and you still struggled with big crowds of people. You were promised it would be relaxed and lowkey, and it was true. No one was staring too much, and no one was approaching you to ask questions. The people at the event were conscious that you were a bunny, and the one thing on the pamphlet about bunny hybrid care that was emphasized was their skittishness. When they were spooked, they would bolt. The caterer who handed you a plate of snacks even smiled softly at you, gentle and soothing as if trained. You assumed The Violet actually had trained them.

You had just settled in a particularly sunny patch of grass when you saw him. At first your heart stopped, thinking he was another bunny hybrid like yourself. But you realized almost immediately that he was human. However, the longer you looked the more you could see why you had mistaken him for a hybrid. His eyes were big and brown, and flicked this way and that as he took in his surroundings. He nibbled on his food while listening to the large man beside him talk about something. When someone said something he found amusing his nose would scrunch up in a way you found endearing. The man wasn’t a hybrid but he almost acted like one.

You had been content watching from afar as he relaxed and talked to the people at his table. He didn’t seem too interested in the hybrids around them, though when one walked by he gave them a nod or a small smile to be polite. When he got out of his seat, you had panicked slightly, fearing he was leaving though you had no grounds to. When you followed at a distance, it was clear he was just going to entertain himself.

You watched him look through the paints and brushes in the section for art, his brow furrowing in thought. He was frowning slightly with concentration, though when he noticed the two mouse hybrids looking at him he quickly softened his expression to say hello. He was choosing his colors after agonizing over the options and then he was moving back toward the table. In his arms he juggled the paper and all of the supplies he wanted. You were worried he was going to drop them. When he stopped to snag a plate of treats, you had giggled into your hand as you watched his balancing act of holding art supplies and piling desserts on the plate before balancing it all for the home stretch.

You tried to remain casual about it. You’d stop to admire a flower and debated picking it. You’d made small talk with a hybrid who asked if you were enjoying yourself. All the while your eyes were flicking back to the man, as if you were afraid he would disappear. Eventually, you had settled back in your spot, holding several flowers you deemed too pretty to not pick. The man was starting to mess around with his paints, listening to the people around him talk, sometimes smiling to himself as though he was just happy to exist in the same place as his friends. It was the first of only two times you would think to yourself that a human was beautiful. Not just attractive, but beautiful. In the same way as your flowers, or a sun shower or the sound of your friend Hoseok singing in the morning when he brought you a glass of juice and some fruit to nibble on.

You were so transfixed on the man that you didn’t register his friend’s attention on you. He had noticed you get up and had watched with curiosity as you lingered behind the youngest of their friend group. He was sure you weren’t aware of his gaze as you watched Jungkook wander around. He even chuckled to himself at your expression when a chatty pomeranian hybrid intercepted you and struck up a conversation. You were trying to be polite but the worry in your brow and shiftiness of your eyes told Namjoon you were agitated. It was almost heartbreaking how obviously enraptured with Jungkook you were. He couldn’t help but tell Jungkook about it the moment he thought no one would be paying attention.

When Jungkook moved and you realized he was turning to look at you, you froze. Your head tipped down and your fingers nervously rubbed at the flowers in your lap. Your cheeks were pink with the embarrassment of getting caught and part of you was gnawing at itself with fear. No one liked to be stared at. You were supposed to keep to yourself and not bother guests. You had learned that attracting attention from humans was dangerous. You should have been more careful, no matter how interested you were in the man.

Jungkook was also blushing. You were perhaps the cutest creature he had ever seen. With your head down, all he could see were your ears. One was a warm brown, almost black like your hair, and the other was white. He hadn’t seen a hybrid with two different colored ears before, and he found it charming. Even if you weren’t trying to make yourself as small as possible (like you presently were) you would be one of the most delicate hybrids there. He realized he had seen you earlier, playing with the children, and had mistaken you for one of the younger hybrids. By yourself, however, it was clear you were older, maybe around his age even. Jungkook had only gotten a glimpse of your eyes before you had ducked your head down, but from just a look he knew they were big and round, expressive in their emotion. He was intrigued.

“What do I do?” He asked, almost speaking out of the side of his mouth as if any movement would send you away. Namjoon found it incredibly cute.

“Don’t scare her away.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. Very helpful, hyung. He racked his brain for what he had learned about bunny hybrids, but all he could remember was that they flopped sometimes and it was a good thing. Jungkook was so caught up in trying to remember what the staff had said about bunny hybrids that he didn’t notice Jimin’s conversation with Hoseok had paused at Jungkook and Namjoon’s whispering. Hoseok was looking between Jungkook and you, his eyes thoughtful before a grin appeared, bright and energetic.

“She likes strawberries.” Hoseok whispered. The men followed his eyes to the plate of fruit Jimin had abandoned. There was a small pile of strawberries in the middle. Jungkook met Hoseok’s eyes and didn’t notice the way Jimin was watching him..

A few feet away, you knew they were talking about you.. Hoseok usually took enough of the attention that you could get by unnoticed but even he was whispering. You wanted to glare at him to communicate your feelings of betrayal but couldn’t bring yourself to look at any of them.

“Jimin, are you going to finish these strawberries?” Jungkook asked, his voice raised loud enough for it to carry across the garden. It was the first time you had really heard it fully and your ears twitched.

“Oh, I don’t think I can. They look delicious, but I’m so full.” Jimin played along, rubbing his tummy as though stuffed when in reality, he hadn’t eaten much.

Your ears were tilting towards them, intrigued by the idea of fresh strawberries. You snuck a peak and saw the forbidden fruit, piled high on a small plate by Jungkook’s elbow. But in the short glance you saw that Jungkook was still looking at you and you felt so shy you couldn’t move from where you sat.

Two emotions were warring in your chest. There was the desire to draw nearer to someone who seemed like you—who seemed safe (Hoseok wasn’t sensing any danger, surely, or he wouldn’t be engaging with them)—and the feeling that it was a trap. Like you would approach the table and the moment before you touched the berries a hand would shoot out and grab your wrist and you’d be punished for not fighting your temptations. You’d be punished for not controlling your urges, once again.

Was this a trap? You looked again at the strawberries and tears began to brim your eyes. You desperately wanted to go closer but the risk was too much. The conflict was stressing you out. So you didn’t move from your spot, paralyzed with the desire to move and the fear to go.

Over at the table, Jungkook deflated. Jimin gave him an encouraging smile and his hand went to squeeze his shoulder in an attempt to comfort the younger boy. Hoseok, however, was undeterred.

“Just give her time.” He said firmly. He watched the way your ears twitched and knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the fruit for long.

“Do you know her?” Jimin asked.

“Yeah, she’s my best friend,” he grinned proudly. The surprised looks didn’t go unnoticed. It was a surprise that you let the loud hybrid anywhere near you. You looked like a leaf falling to the ground would convince you to run for cover.

But Hoseok knew you better.

He struck up a conversation with Jungkook instead, trying to distract them to give you the window to feel safe enough to move.

It turned out that Jungkook’s occupation went hand in hand with Jimin’s. He had a studio where his trainers lead different exercise classes like Bikram yoga or boxing, as well as taught self-defense classes such as Krav Maga and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. It was obvious that Jungkook himself was very athletic and in shape, even in his oversized clothing.

Jungkook was talking about why he started working out when out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. He stuttered almost imperceptibly in his speech but recovered quickly, fighting a smile at the sight of you shifting your posture. He could have laughed at himself. He had never paid so much attention to one person before. Besides Jimin, of course.

When Hoseok had gotten Jungkook talking, the lull of his voice was almost too much to resist. You were struggling against the movement of your inner self weighing the risk of coming closer. Your inner bunny wanted to hide just in case, but even she was being drawn in by the sight of the fruit lying out, just asking to be eaten. All of your lines of defense were crumbling.

You were moving slowly, almost not of your own volition. It was as if something else was propelling you forward and you were inching toward the corner of the table where the plate rested.

When you reached the table, directly next to him, Jungkook kept talking but watched as your small hand reached out. Your fingers clutched a strawberry, your eyes darted around at each face at the table to see if they were paying attention to you but each of the males’ faces were trained anywhere else though they were all aware of you. Tension was coiled in your chest as you envisioned the hand that threatened to grab you. At last you brought the fruit to your lips and you took a nibble.

It was like every man at the table exhaled. Jungkook was beaming inwardly and Jimin was wiping at his nose to hide his smile. Namjoon was pushing his food around his plate with a small smile of his own and Hoseok was grinning in victory. You made a small noise, almost a clicking sound in the back of your throat, and all of them wondered what it was except for Hoseok, who knew it meant you were happy.

You weren’t being punished. You were a little closer to the stranger who kept looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Hello, happy bun. Would you like to sit down?” Hoseok was the first to address you and Jungkook’s eyes cut to him in fear that he was going to scare you away. Somehow, in the way that Hoseok just seemed to know things, it was exactly what you needed. Verbal affirmation that you could stay. You looked shyly at Jungkook and he immediately scooted, practically sitting on Namjoon. Namjoon cursed and also moved to the empty seat at his right. The older man’s grumpiness made you giggle and Jungkook’s eyes widened at the sound. He looked directly at Jimin to see if he had heard it and Jimin’s expression was one of slight awe. Jungkook ignored Namjoon’s grumbling as you lowered yourself in the now empty chair, timidly glancing at Jimin to your left and Jungkook to your right.

The seat was warm, and you could smell something warm, musky, and slightly floral.

“I like your flowers,” Jungkook told you. “Could I draw them?” He asked. You nodded, lifting the flowers to hand to him but Jungkook stopped you. “You’re fine. Just hold them like you were.”

Jimin started telling Hoseok about how Jungkook was incredibly talented at drawing and painting things. “Jungkook drew our friend’s wedding portrait.” He bragged. It was the first time you’d heard someone say his name. Jungkook.

You weren’t speaking but watching Jungkook draw, leaning slightly closer to get a better view. He was not just drawing the flowers, but you could see he was also drawing you. Or at least part of you. The watercolors were roughly spreading across the page, making the image of the flowers in your grasp. You practically preened, making a happy noise as you leaned into Jungkook, unaware of the fact that you were now touching beyond the unconscious comfort it gave you to be close to him.

Jimin was melting, however, watching the attention you gave his love. How you looked is how he felt. You watched Jungkook with thee expression he had only ever seen Jungkook himself make, when he found something interesting and beautiful and inspiring. He was sure you weren’t aware you were doing it.

While you were in your own little world, the afternoon went on with the activities. There were classic games like a two-legged race (which Jimin and Hoseok lost phenomenally at), a game of musical chairs that Hoseok won, and an egg toss that resulted in some impressive work by a pair of labrador hybrids. You watched everyone running around and having fun, and you looked like you wanted to get closer as Jimin and Namjoon entered the tug-of-war competition. Jungkook’s gaze went from you to the people lining up and back to you. Then he asked, “Want to go watch?”

You squeaked in surprise that he had directly addressed you and Jungkook patiently waited for you to compose yourself. You looked back at where Jimin and Namjoon playfully pretended to stretch and warm up, jokingly eyeing the hybrids that had volunteered to play. It looked fun, and Jungkook’s large friend looked strong, like a bull hybrid you’d seen once. You found yourself nodding and wordlessly, your hand moved to grasp Jungkook’s.

He watched it happen in slow motion, your hand moving from your lap towards his own where he mindlessly swung his pen around. He let the pen fall from his fingers in favor of opening his palm to you. Your hand was so small compared to his that he almost cooed. Your fingers wrapped around his and you looked at him with a vulnerability that made him want to place himself between you and anything that even thought about looking at you.

Hoseok saw the exchange from his place by the snack table and grinned. He allowed himself a single yip of celebration.

Jungkook led you to the tables nearest the competition and when Jimin saw the two of you watching he started acting cute, doing little dances and waving. It made you blush and hide in Jungkook’s shoulder, giggling to yourself. Jungkook gave Jimin a thumbs up and mouthed ‘keep it up’. Namjoon watched the whole interaction with thinly veiled amusement and made a note to himself. Before Jimin could make you laugh any more, the staff member officiating the tug-of-war game started talking and telling everyone the rules.

The tarp with mud was pulled into the middle of the field and the players lined up. You peaked out from behind Jungkook’s shoulder and watched as his friends lined up with five other random attendees and got into place.

You were sure the hybrids would win immediately. Hybrids were created to be stronger than humans. However, when the whistle blew and everyone started pulling in their own direction, it was clear why the human team had put Namjoon at the very back of the rope. At first he was leaning back to resist the pull of the hybrids, but after a moment, when the team had gotten their bearings, he turned and started walking in the other direction, the rope over his shoulder. Namjoon was strong. You watched him with wide eyes, huddling close to Jungkook.

Just like when you had taken his seat, this scent surrounded you. It was lavender and something else you didn’t have a name for: but with him close you got a better whiff. It was a warm scent, earthy and musky. You hadn’t smelled something like it before and you decided you liked it. You tried to inhale discreetly, rubbing your cheek against Jungkook’s shoulder. The scenting was almost unconscious. Almost. There was a part of you that wanted some of the smell on yourself, so even when the day was over and you were back in your room at The Violet, you would have the memory of him still on your cheek.

Jungkook was completely unaware of the scenting. All he knew was that you had started nuzzling him and he thought it was endearing. He was struggling to focus on the tug-of-war match in front of him. And when one of the humans slips and falls into the tarp of mud, his laughter is partly at their expense and partly an excuse to indulge in the happiness he felt that you had warmed up to him. He doesn’t catch you looking at him over his shoulder, smiling at the sound of his laughter.

Eventually, nature had the last say. Namjoon was strong, but not seven hybrids strong. The human side of the rope was pulled into the mud and Jimin’s shout of defeat startled you. So much so that you jumped and moved back behind Jungkook. He let you grip his hand, moving his other hand to stroke your arm in assurance.

“It’s okay…” He realized at that moment that he didn’t even know your name. “Jimin is just playing.” He soothed. Jimin. That was his name.

“Is he okay?” You ask quietly. It’s the first full sentence you’ve spoken in the hour you had spent with him. Jungkook grinned and it was stunning you.

“He’s fine, bun.” He resorted to the nickname he’d heard Hoseok use, and you clicked your approval and rubbed your forehead against Jungkook’s back. Your face warmed with embarrassment but you couldn’t help yourself.

Jimin came bounding up then, covered in mud and grinning ear to ear. He gave Jungkook a kiss that Jungkook scrunched his nose at because Jimin was completely covered in mud.

“We almost won.” He insisted.

“If only your team was full of Joonies.” Jungkook laughed.

Jimin noticed you peeking out at him from behind Jungkook’s shoulder but didn’t say anything. He just gave you a smile that left you smiling yourself. Then he excused himself to try and get as much mud off as possible for the ride home. “Make sure Kook doesn’t get into any trouble, okay?” He asked you. He waited until you nodded shyly before taking off.

The mention of the event ending had dread plummeting your stomach to the ground. You knew eventually that Jungkook would leave but you had pushed those thoughts out of your mind. Of course he had to go. Jimin had to go, too. They had lives to get back to and they couldn’t stay and feed you strawberries all day. It made you sad and your ears drooped, tickling Jungkook’s cheek. He could sense the mood shift and to cheer you up asked if you wanted to share a plate of strawberries. Then when you two sat back down you ate all of them.

When the staff members started canvasing the garden, the sun was starting to set. They were rounding up hybrids and telling them to say their final goodbyes to the friends they had made. You were sitting in between Jimin and Jungkook, dozing off, your head lolling forward as you struggled to stay awake and enjoy your last moments with them. In your heart you longed for a different life. One where instead of the staff member squeezing your shoulder and quietly letting you know it was time to start heading out, Jungkook would let you sleep, safe and warm with his scent beside you, until it became so late that he carried you to your bed—no, your nest. In this dream you had a nest of your own. A warm place of blankets, pillows, lavender, and bergamot.

But that wasn’t your life, and in your life, Hoseok was coming to collect you and walk with you back to your dorm. Pushing the urge to cry down, you barely managed a sound as you gave Jungkook’s hand one last squeeze. You two hadn’t let go since the tug-of-war game. It was a heartbreaking thing to see, and Jimin was equally moved when you said goodbye to him, your soft voice floating up to his ears.

The group watched you go and when you disappeared around the corner, the mood was noticeably depressed. Jungkook looked like a kicked puppy. Jimin’s hand was going up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him but honestly, even he didn’t know what to say. Jungkook had obviously connected with you and you with him.

“Maybe we can come back and visit her,” he offered quietly. Jungkook was blinking rapidly, nodding his head.

“Have you ever thought of adopting a hybrid?” Namjoon chose this moment to bring up what he had been thinking the whole day. Jimin and Jungkook shot their heads in his direction.

“What?” Jimin asked at the same moment Jungkook said “Could we?”

Namjoon’s expression was that of self-satisfaction.

“Those were all hybrids that live at The Violet.” He stated the obvious. “The long-term goal isn’t for them to spend the rest of their lives there. It’s for them to be adopted and get to live their lives in a home where they are safe and free to live autonomously with people who will love and care for them. That’s probably part of The Violet’s aim in bringing them here to the event. If anyone were to be interested in adopting a hybrid, they have the opportunity to interact with some and get a feel for what would fit best in their homes and lives.”

Jimin was going back and forth between looking at Namjoon and looking at Jungkook, who was looking as though someone had handed him banana milk on a platter and he found out there was a million dollars in the bottom of the jug.

Then, Jungkook seemed to deflate. He was staring at the table, processing what Namjoon had said. Watching you leave had felt like having his heart wretched out of his chest. It was worse knowing you didn’t want to leave. But he had learned enough in the seminars to know that taking care of a hybrid was a big job. They needed a lot of attention and care. You had to be an expert on your hybrid because they were relying on you to keep them safe and healthy. Jungkook didn’t know if he was up for that kind of responsibility. “I can’t take care of a hybrid by myself.”

The words were mumbled, as though he were just processing aloud and hadn’t realized he’d spoken at all. And he hadn’t realized. Not until Jimin made a disapproving sound and his hand went to Jungkook’s thigh. He squeezed it lightly and Jungkook looked up at him.

“No, you can’t.” He was staring so softly at Jungkook that the younger boy almost missed how negative his words were. Almost. Part of him had hoped Jimin would disagree and tell Jungkook he was entirely capable of taking care of you. So, Jungkook looked on, confused and slightly betrayed as his boyfriend leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“But we can.”

© sybilwriting 2021

A Touch of Humanity - Din Djarin x gn!reader

Part I: Nabu

Part II | Part III

summary: Naboo isn't Din's favorite place in the galaxy. It doesn't even break his top ten. Grogu's ever-curious and troublemaking nature intertwines their lives with that of a local artist. Someone who is able to wrangle Grogu, comfort Din, and care for others without a second thought. Naboo isn't Din's favorite place in the galaxy, but with you around it was quickly becoming that way.

word count: 9.1k

tags/warnings: fluff, the timeline is what I say it is just go with it, Din deserves a #1 Dad mug, Grogu is a menace, gift giving is Din's love language, I used canonical places and history until there was no more to go off of and then made up my own to flesh it out, mentions of forgetting to eat, descriptions of food, slow burn

Naboo is humid this time of year. It’s muggy, damp, moist, all the worst things to be when it's so damn hot. It’s the type of boiling humidity that Din can feel creep across his skin under his armor. He absolutely hates having to come to Naboo. A planet ripe with swamps, cities full of holier than thou pompous people, and don’t get him started on the Gungans. Din swears he’s not prejudiced, but if one more Gungan tries having a conversation with him he's shooting first and asking questions later. 

Sure, everyone else in the galaxy might see Naboo as this idyllic planet, but Din just can’t. The scenery is beautiful, he won't deny that. Having to chase down a bounty here, however, isn't quite as beautiful. Democracy and civil order are great. Until they interfere with him doing his job because some lowlife seeks asylum in Naboo’s lengthy court systems. Rendering them essentially untouchable unless he wants the entire Republic on his ass. 

The only saving grace of this hellscape of a planet are the mountains. It's quieter up in the Gallo Mountains. The people aren't as nosy or judgemental. They tend to their crops, their children, and their homes while minding their business. Outsiders are welcome, but not doted on. Something Din can respect. Maybe it's the closer connection to their Grizmallti roots, but the people of Dee’ja Peak are much more palatable than those from the cities. Or the Gungans.

Even in this sticky heat, the people of Dee’ja Peak go about their business. The buildings are stout cylinders with round roofs. Public buildings are taller than residential ones. Windmills are scattered throughout the town, generating all the energy they need. Some smaller gardens are used for personal crops, but otherwise there are tiered fields in the mountainous terrain where they grow what is needed for the season. A river flows along the south most border, the water a glittering blue. No doubt if Din were to follow it he would come upon a waterfall over the mountain’s edge. 

He spots what he’s looking for. There’s a corral where the younger children are kept during the workday. A few people are assigned each day to care for them. Din knows there's no place safer on Naboo than Dee’ja Peak. There’s also likely no one as qualified to watch Grogu while Din goes digging for information on a former resident. 

“Stay put,” he orders the child after placing him within the corral. 

Grogu peers up at him, cooing. 

“Go play, I’ll be back soon.”

Grogu observes his surroundings with anxious curiosity. Once he starts to amble off toward the other children, Din stalks off to the Inn. It’s a neutral toned building with a couple floors. The door slides open once it senses him. A middle aged woman sits behind the counter reading a newspaper. She looks up with her eyes only when she hears the door.

“How many nights?” She asks, looking back at her paper. 

“I’m not here for a room,” Din says.

This gets her to fully look up at him. She looks him up and down with a critical gaze. Unlike most other places, the people here never seem too put off or intimidated by his presence. Din honestly appreciates the tonal difference here from the rest of Naboo, the planet. Although every Naboo, the people, has Grizmallti ancestry, the Naboo tend to focus on their newer identity. A side effect of fleeing due to civil war. 

The people in the mountains, though. They don't consider themselves Naboo. They consider themselves Grizmallti herds who live in the mountains of Nabu. Grizmallti herds use the original name given to Naboo, the name of the deity they once worshipped. All things Din has to remember when dealing with the different sides of the planet. Their differences are small, but vital. Not offending anyone or ticking someone off makes Din’s life easier whenever he blows through. Working knowledge of the cultures is just part of the job. 

“What are you here for then?” the woman asks him, jerking her chin up at him.

“I need information on Sola Pellis. I was told to come to you.”

“You were told wrong.”

Din measures the woman. There’s definitely a blaster holstered to the underside of the counter. Her joints are swollen from wear and tear meaning her movements will be slow.

“What are you getting for hiding her? I can double it,” he attempts. 

The woman snorts.

“I’m not hiding anyone. Only people in here are paying me to sleep. I don't have anything for you about Sola.”

“But you know who she is.”

Newspaper abandoned on the countertop, the woman sighs.

“Look, I recognize you. I know why you’re looking for her. If I had any information, I'd give it to you. Sola is no friend of Dee’ja Peak, or Nabu.”

Din can tell she's being honest. A dead end. Great. Perfect. Tracking down Sola Pellis is proving to be a headache. One he isn't sure is worth the credits. 

“Do you know of anyone who may have more information?”

“I know the last time she was seen she was disappearing into the thick woods to the west. If that's true, you can kiss your bounty goodbye,” the woman tells him, going back to her newspaper.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because no one goes into those woods and comes back. The Gungans avoid the core of Nabu because of the sea monsters. The Grizmallti avoid the thick woods for a similar reason,” her words are ominous, but her gaze doesn't leave the article she’s reading. 

Din mutters a thank you and leaves. The cooled air of the Inn does nothing but make the outside even more unbearable. Dirt crunches beneath his boots. Chatter fills the air as the townspeople live their collective lives. When he arrives back at the corral Grogu is nowhere to be seen. Panic seeps in, but instinct takes over. There’s a break in the wood of the corral fence. One just big enough for the adventurous scamp to squeeze through. 

A set of small three-toed footprints lead away from the corral. Din follows them. He can see a couple scuffs where Grogu must have taken a tumble. No doubt he was running to avoid getting caught doing exactly what he wasn't supposed to be doing. The tracks lead to one of the many short cylindrical houses and end at the front door. With a sigh, Din knocks on the door. He’s more irritated with the kid than worried he’s in danger. In all his travels, he’s only ever come to this particular corner of Naboo for information. The seedy underbelly of the galaxy seems to steer clear of here. Like the whole galaxy has an unspoken, but agreed upon respect for Dee’ja Peak. 

You open the door smiling over your shoulder. The smile falters as you take him in curiously. It only takes a second for realization to light up your face.

“You must be here for the little one,” your voice is as kind as your smile.

Din nods. You gesture for him to follow you inside. He does so cautiously. It’s a small space, but undoubtedly cozy. A couple cushy looking seats surround a small table. The kitchen is attached to the far curved wall, containing only the essentials. A stove, a fridge, a counter with three lower cabinets, and a sink. Grogu splashes around in water in the sink. His clothes are folded on the counter. He coos and reaches out when he spots Din approaching.

“You’re giving him a bath,” Din states, just a hint of a question at the end.

“Yeah, he was covered in dirt and jelly. I hope you don't mind,” you say as you grab a dish towel to dry Grogu off.

“Jelly?”

“I think he smelled my jelly cakes and wandered over here. When I came out of the bathroom, he was laying on a plate of crumbs,” you chuckle.

Din turns his head so Grogu knows he’s giving him a disapproving stare. The kid gives him an innocent look in return. 

“I’m sorry. I can pay you for them,” Din says.

You shake your head and wave him off as you wrap Grogu in the towel.

“No worries. He’s very sweet. Are you his father?” You smile as you redress the kid.

“In a way.”

You nod. When Grogu is once again dressed, you scoop him up. He happily coos as you make silly faces at him. Din is itching to get off this planet, but he doesn’t put a stop to it. Not for the first time, Din wonders if he’s doing the kid a disservice. He could tuck Grogu away somewhere here. Where it’s safe. At least, safer than anywhere else. The lonesome ache that ate at him when Grogu was with Luke comes back at the thought. Then the silent reminder that Grogu chose to live this life with him. 

“Thank you for cleaning him up.”

You flash Din a smile that gives the scenery of Naboo a run for its money.

“It's really no problem. Like I said, he’s very sweet. Although, you should probably teach him not to wander into strangers’ homes. I know not everywhere is like here,” you give him a light lecture. 

“I’m trying,” Din sighs. 

Your smile turns sympathetic. With one last little boop of his nose, you hand Grogu off to Din. As you do so, you tell him your name. Din doesn’t return the favor, but you don't ask him to. You’ve seen him pass through before. No one knows his name. When parents are trying to scare their kids straight he’s the Man With The Metal Skin. To everyone else he’s simply the Mandalorian. 

“Who are you looking for this time?” you ask.

Din freezes as he looks at you. Only interest paints your features. His guard goes up.

“Why do you think I’m looking for someone?” he asks.

You quirk an amused smile.

“Believe it or not, not many bounty hunters come through here. Even less Mandalorians. People talk.”

He regards you for a moment longer.

“Sola Pellis. Do you know her?”

You go pale. Regardless of how you decide to answer, Din can tell the truth. You swallow around the lump that’s formed in your throat.

“I think we all know her.”

“Do you know where I might find her?”

An uncomfortable shift on your feet gives you away.

“Not exactly. She told me she was going to Jakku, but then I heard she was seen going into the forest west of here,” you tell him guiltily.

“Which would you believe?” 

Your eyes squeeze shut for a moment. There's a deep intake of breath through your nose then an exhale through your slightly parted lips. Once the calming action is complete, your eyes open again. They fix steadily on Din.

“I want to tell you to believe she went into the forest.”

“But you don't think she did,” he checks for confirmation.

“No, I don’t. My sister is many things, but suicidal isn’t one of them,” you sigh.

“Sister?”

“Estranged, but yes.”

Din chews on this unexpected bit of information. He spares a glance at Grogu. How the hell did the kid manage to kick up a lead like this?

“Do you have any idea where on Jakku she would go?” He knows it's a long shot, but it's also his only shot.

“I don't even know what’s on Jakku other than sand,” you admit sheepishly.

Din gives a short nod. That’s everything. Grogu coos at you some more, clearly infatuated now that he knows you possibly carry jelly cakes. It makes it hard for Din to move. Grogu doesn't even reach toward Peli like this. 

“Thank you,” he says.

Another moment of standing there.

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

The words completely surprise you. He can see it all over your face. Your eyebrows raise, eyes grow larger, and face reddens just a tad. 

“You’re just doing your job, right?” You give a sad smile.

He once again nods. It’s not the first time the job has left him feeling a little torn. The first time was Grogu. With that, he makes his leave for Jakku.

***

It’s a couple weeks later when the Mandalorian is knocking on your door again. Surprise is evident on your face as you greet him.

“Would you watch him?” He asks without any prelude.

You simply blink at him for a moment. Grogu essentially materializes from beneath the Mandalorian’s cape. He had been tucked nicely into a leather bag. 

“Really?”

“If it isn't too much trouble.”

“Y’know there’s the corral in-”

“I left him there last time and he ended up with you. I think he’ll be happier going with you to begin with.”

Grogu’s big eyes watch you hopefully. He coos and reaches out for you. Maker, he’s adorable. With a smile you accept him into your arms.

“Okay, how long will you be?” 

“I won't be back until nightfall.”

Your eyebrows furrow. It’s morning now. That’s a long time to leave his child with someone who’s a perfect stranger. 

“Where are you going?”

“Moenia, but I don’t trust anywhere else to be safe enough. He’s… special.”

The vagueness of the Mandalorian’s words pique your interest, but you put it off for another time. Moenia is a city below the mountains. No wonder he'll be gone all day. You give him a nod as Grogu tangles his hands in your hair.

“Good luck.”

The Mandalorian nods. He gives Grogu one last pat on the head before leaving. As long as you kept him fed and entertained, Grogu was pretty painless to watch over. You learned quickly that any inkling of boredom leads to increasing amounts of mischief. It took a broken plate, a chewed slipper, and a close call with a knife to teach you that lesson.

Night has settled over the Gallo Mountains when Din returns. He seems a little worse for wear. You can tell even through all that beskar armor. His shoulders are a bit slumped and his knock wasn’t as strong. He expects you to hand Grogu off and then to be on his way. 

“He’s asleep and by the looks of it you should be too,” you tell him with an amused smile.

Din follows you into your house. Grogu is out like a light on one of the cushy seats. A too large blanket covers him to his chin. Din waits and watches for a second. A calm rushes over him when he observes Grogu’s chest moving lightly. When his attention is turned back to you he finds a soft smile already facing him.

“Was he any trouble?” Din asks quietly.

“A little, but it was a fun trouble,” you shrug slightly, “He’s a good kid.”

“Thank you for watching him.”

“Anytime. Now, you’re clearly tired and the kid is asleep. You’re welcome to stay the night. I have a cot I can bring out,” you offer kindly.

He has to mull it over. The thought of sleeping in his armor tempts him to go back to the Razor Crest. The exhaustion in his bones and Grogu’s peaceful form pull him to stay. He can stand a night of sleeping in his armor, he decides.

“I would appreciate that.”

***

Morning comes slowly on Naboo. The daylight takes its time creeping over the mountains to warm up Dee’ja Peak. Din awakes with a crick in his neck, but otherwise rested. He sits up and tilts his head left with a satisfying crack. Then he tilts his head right, earning another satisfying crack, alleviating the crick.

“That sounded like it felt good,” your playful voice says from the kitchen. 

Din looks over and sees you at a little table pressed against the wall. Grogu is across from you all but swimming in a bowl of warm oats. It makes him ache a little, how at home Grogu seems to feel here. Din knows what he’s made to do as a Mandalorian. He knows what is expected of him as he raises a foundling. Still, he can't help recalling his own youngling days. He remembers wishing that he could just stay in one place for longer than a few days. He suspects that’s why he’s prone to revisiting familiar landscapes. It gives him a false sense of stability and he hopes it may for Grogu as well. 

“It did,” he admits. 

The deep cool tone of his voice skates across your skin leaving subtle goosebumps. You’re not sure if it's the modulator in his helmet, but his voice is so soothing. 

“Do you want some breakfast?” you gesture to the pot on the stove over a low flame.

“No, that’s alright. We should go when he’s done.”

You nod and go back to what you were doing. He hasn't noticed the paper in front of you until now, or the furious scribbling of your hand. The tip of your tongue sticks out as you focus on the drawing you’ve been working on. 

“Is that… me?” he asks, befuddled and flustered. 

On the paper before you is a drawing. An extremely good drawing. It’s Din on the cot, one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach as he sleeps. The morning light filters through the window, shining off his armor. Over him is Grogu, peering down from where he was once asleep on the seat. The shading is soft and photorealistic. He imagines you’ve been at it for at least an hour. Something deep in his chest stirs, waking something else deep in his belly. 

“Oh- uh- yeah, sorry. I was waiting for you to wake up and… force of habit I guess,” you stutter out, face flushing. 

“You have a habit of drawing people while they’re sleeping?” he questions.

“Well, not exactly, but I have a habit of drawing whenever the inspiration strikes without really thinking,” you rub the back of your neck, embarrassed.

Din allows himself a moment to study the image. It’s like a graphite photograph. You have some real skill with a pencil. Maybe even more than Din has with a blaster. 

“Could I have it?” he asks, an edge of anxiousness nudging in at the end.

You brandish a smile that makes the inside of Din’s flight suit a little hotter. Maker, it’s been too long since he’s taken care of himself. 

“Yeah, of course.”

You put a few finishing touches on the drawing before rolling it up and handing it over. Din almost wishes you could see the soft smile he offers up. 

“You’re very good.”

“Thank you,” you smile bashfully.

“You've been very kind to us. Thank you.”

You nod, still sporting a small smile. A glance between Din and Grogu doesn't go unnoticed.

“You’re both welcome anytime… Could I ask you a question, though?” 

Din can see the apprehensiveness rolling off of you.

“You can ask, but I can’t promise an answer.”

“What happened with my sister?” 

A beat of silence. Well, silence outside of Grogu’s munching.

“I’m still looking. Jakku was another dead end,” he answers honestly.

“What… what are you going to do with her when you find her?” You ask slowly,

You stare him down. A good minute goes by with no words and an intense gaze you can feel from behind that helmet. 

“The bounty doesn't specify dead or alive. It’s up to her how I bring her in.”

You nod, a sigh slipping out. It's no secret that Sola Pellis is the worst the Gizmallti have to offer. The people of Dee’ja Peak usually keep to themselves. They conduct their lives up in the mountains and don't get involved with the affairs of other places. What drove Sola to become a mercenary, you don't know.

 You do know that she mostly took jobs and money from the worst people. Sola has hurt a lot of people, a lot of children. Somewhere along the way whatever moral compass she had deteriorated. It’s no surprise someone put a bounty on her head. If anything, it’s a surprise it took this long. 

“So, where to next?” You ask as you take your bowl and Grogu’s now empty bowl to the sink. 

You place the dirty dishes in the sink, but turn to face Din again. Your lower back presses into the edge of the sink as you lean back.

“Tatooine.”

“Tatooine that’s…,” you pause a moment to think, brows furrowing creating a wrinkle between them before your face brightens, “desert planet with two suns, right?” 

Din nods. He scoops up a gurgling Grogu. There’s something about the hard lines of the Mandalorian contrasting the softness of the kid that ensnares you. He’s so gentle with the tiny ball of trouble. So much gentler than you’d expect someone of his background to be capable of being. In fact, whenever he’s in town the Mandalorian is extremely peaceful. He’s civil. A strange juxtaposition from the stories you’ve heard about the group.

“That’s a kinder description than I would give it,” he says after a moment of consideration.

“What description would you give it?”

“A boiling sarlacc pit.” 

A laugh tumbles off your lips. It's a soft sound that gives Din the same sensation as hearing distant wind chimes. A sort of contemplative calm that allows his chest room to feel the steady beating of his own heart. A brief moment of acknowledging his own humanity.

“Have you been to a lot of places then?” 

Once again, Din nods.

“Have you been to Coruscant?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Do you like any places you’ve visited?” you chuckle.

“I like it here,” it hangs in the air for a moment before he snatches it back with a clarification, “in Dee’ja Peak.”

“I’m glad Nabu caught your affections,” you smile with a hint of pride. 

“Not Naboo,” he shakes his head slightly. 

An amused quirk takes over your smile.

“Don’t let anyone else hear you say it like that.”

“I’m sorry, Nabu.” Din takes care to emphasize the ah sound a little more and shorten the last syllable. 

“No worries, just be careful when you're out there. People tend to get very defensive about the Naboo around here.”

Din nods in understanding. It was a careless slip up on his part. He takes it as a sign that he’s gotten too comfortable here. 

“Thank you, again.”

He takes his leave, you giving a chest height wave after him. 

***

You aren't answering the door a week later. Grogu coos curiously up at Din from his pod. The afternoon air hangs temperate and still.

“I don't know,” Din answers the question in Grogu’s eyes. 

He stalks off into town to ask around. He would have left Grogu with the newly fixed corral, but the kid made it clear he misses you. Whenever he wanted to bother Din about seeing you again, he would place his hand on the drawing. Din has it taped to the back wall of the cockpit on a smooth panel. Every time Grogu puts his little hand on the drawing and coos at Din with wide eyes, he can only respond with a soft soon, kid. 

He spots a shopkeeper who is reorganizing the farming tools they have on display outside. Grogu trails lazily behind him as he goes up to ask if he has any knowledge of your whereabouts. The store is next door, separated by a chunk of dirt road and a windmill. The gruff older man tells Din you’re likely by the riverbank honing your craft. 

Grogu spots you first. His excited gurgling and quickened pace in the pod tip Din off. Din’s gaze follows Grogu’s trajectory to find you. Sure enough, you’re set up on the riverbank sitting on a wooden stool. An easel is in front of you, your steady hand painting the rolling landscape before you with the tip of your tongue sticking out. Next to you sits an open case of paints, brushes, and other tools Din can’t place. When you hear Grogu you look over your shoulder with a bright smile.

“You found my secret spot,” you say teasingly as you place your paint brush onto the lip of the easel. 

You pick Grogu up and place him on your lap. He immediately cuddles into your chest. The part of the riverbank you’re on is only a few yards from the edge of town. The backs of houses cast shadows that reach out for you, but fall a few feet short.

“The hardware store owner told me where to find you.”

“Ah, Gus. He’s a good one. If he notices I haven't come back for lunch he’ll bring me some,” you smile fondly at the memories. 

“Grizmallti take care of their own,” Din recalls a saying he’s heard on occasion around these parts. 

You give him a pleasantly surprised look and nod. 

“How long d’you need me to watch him for?” you ask, looking down at Grogu as you scratch behind his ear. Grogu is absolutely eating up the sensation and the attention.

“Until tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

“I’m happy to. Where are you off to this time?”

“Endor.”

You perk up when he says it. 

“I've always wanted to go to Endor! Have you been there before?” Excitement is written all over your face.

Din finds it endearing, which spooks him. He thanks his Maker that you can’t see it on his face. 

“I have,” he nods.

“Let me guess, you hate it there too,” you tease amused.

You’re sitting there teasing him, Grogu is on your lap looking up at you adoringly, and the warmth of the sun is kissing your skin. Din’s breathing picks up a little, but not enough to alert you to the change. It’s an image he’s allowed himself to think of briefly before falling asleep. Pictures of someone faceless caring for Grogu when he can't. Not having to worry about the kid’s whereabouts and safety. What a comfort it would be to be able to just know Grogu is safe and happy without worry. Maybe that faceless person provides some companionship to Din as well sometimes, but that’s just a happy side effect. The real fantasy is a second more stable, but equally loving parental figure for Grogu.

“No, I don’t mind Endor.”

“Well, now I really want to go there. That’s a raving review from you,” you chuckle.

“Have you ever been off Nabu?” he asks.

“I've never left Dee’ja Peak.” 

“I get the sense people don't leave here often.”

You shake your head.

“Less than people visit, that’s for sure.” 

Grogu gets his hands on the paintbrush. You quickly reach to snatch it, but he manages to get in a swipe with it. A light purple streak paints diagonally across your face. You were using the color for the more distant mountains. Grogu gurgles at you innocently and you take the paintbrush from his hand. A smile is concealed by Din’s helmet.

“Okay, I think that's enough painting for one day,” you announce and place Grogu back in his pod. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow evening at the latest.”

You smile and nod. 

***

Din knows you're home this time. He’s later than he expected. Stars twinkle above and the warm glow of the lights through your windows lie ahead. He knocks and it takes you only a second to call out for him to come in. 

When he enters he finds you and Grogu at the small table in the living room. You’re sitting criss-crossed on the floor. Grogu is kneeling on top of the table, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper with a blue crayon. You color more lightly on yours with a green one. 

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” he says as he approaches. 

“It’s okay, once I got him some crayons he was set. He’s been at it for hours,” you chuckle and gesture to the pile of drawings behind you. 

Din flips through some of the drawings. They’re all a mishmash of multicolored scribbles. Over your shoulder he can see you’ve drawn Grogu drawing. It’s in crayon, but still somehow incredibly accurate. Grogu coos for Din once he’s satisfied with the amount of blue on the paper. Din pops him onto his hip. He immediately finds the small talisman hidden in a pocket of Din’s belt. Din takes it from him, clenching it in his fist. 

“I brought you something from Endor,” he tells you tentatively.

You peer up at him with wide eyes.

“You did?”

He holds out his hand and opens it. In his palm is a small semi-flat talisman of an Ewok with a hood and spear carved from a deep green stone. You take it tenderly, running your fingers over the curves and ridges. It’s cool to the touch and vaguely smells like forest. Din watches you study the talisman in awe. It’s something he spotted in passing and only cost him a few credits. It’s not the same as going there, but it’s a small piece of Endor in the palm of your hand. 

“This is beautiful, thank you so much,” you look up at him with an astonished expression, “You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s nothing. Consider it a token of appreciation.”

“I feel very appreciated, thank you,” your voice is soft and genuine like your eyes.

There's a brief moment where Din gets an urge to reach out for you. He doesn't know where the impulse comes from. He just knows that the kid likes you, which means you’re good. You’re good and help him out. You give him a place to rest, you give the kid a place to be a kid, and you do it all with a smile on your face. Din probably has the most respect for you out of anyone he knows. 

“Will you be staying the night? I can't imagine taking off in the dark is a good idea,” you offer with a knowing smile.

There's the telltale slump of his shoulders. He’s tired. It’s like your gaze is piercing his beskar.

“If you don't mind.”

“How could I mind after a gift like this?”

In the morning, the crayon drawing of Grogu is already rolled up next to Din. He hadn't even had the chance to ask for it. 

***

 “Grogu,” you scold.

He’s on the counter, a hand literally in the cookie jar. Those big eyes stay on you as his hand continues to inch forward into the jar.

“If you take a cookie out of that jar your father will be hearing about this,” you warn him. 

Grogu gives a displeased gurgle. His ears droop. With one last longing look at the cookies, he removes his hand from the jar. You pick him up off the counter. 

“C'mon, let’s spend some time outside.” 

You bring him out and set him loose in the grass in front of your house. This way he can hunt the snails that have infested your garden. He gets snacks and entertainment, you get a cleared out garden and a second to breathe. The Mandalorian is a day late. You’re seriously beginning to worry, but are trying really hard to not let Grogu catch on. 

Din knows he’s in trouble the moment he sees you outside. Not because he’s late or limping. Because you’re sitting on a big flag rock, smiling affectionately at where Grogu is pouncing on snails. He has the strange sensation of returning somewhere that's waiting to welcome him, of returning home.

 That drop in his stomach, that buzz in his chest tells him he’s in trouble. The kid has softened him so much more than he’d realized. Since when did Din desire a family? Worse, that faceless person caring for Grogu and giving him companionship is beginning to look a lot like you. Worst, he’s silently given up on the pursuit of your sister. You are just the latest way Naboo makes his job more difficult.

“Don’t let him eat too many of those. He won't stop until he throws them up,” Din says as he limps up to you.

You’re whipping around and standing in an instant. Relief washes over you, but worry still covers your face.

“Maker, I was afraid something happened,” you breathe as you look him up and down. 

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, clocking his limp.

“I’m fine. I just need to sit,” he grunts. 

Suddenly, you’re ducking under his arm, tossing it over your shoulders. You place your own arm around his waist, the beskar so cold it stings. He hisses when the pressure of your hand irritates a sore spot on his side. You loosen your hold.

“Sorry,” you mumble and start to guide him into the house.

Grogu scurries in at your ankles, looking up worriedly at his father. You help him to the nearest seat in the living room. He sighs in relief.

“Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?” You hover over him, not sure what to do.

He shakes his head slowly.

“I’m fine, I swear. I’m just… bruised.” 

“Is there anything I can do?”

Din studies your features for a second. You're so incredibly kind it’s almost funny. It almost feels fake. He kind of feels like he could reach out right now and you would poof out of existence like a cloud.

“The cot,” he grunts.

You nod and quickly go to retrieve it. Once the coffee table is out of the way, you set it up. Din moves onto it, laying back. Trying to rest in his full get up looks uncomfortable, it always does.

“Let me help you get your armor off,” you say and reach toward his pauldron.

“No,” his hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist.

“Your flight suit and helmet can stay on, but all the external metal… I just think you'd rest easier without it,” you explain softly.

His gloved fingers remain around your wrist for a beat.

“Okay,” he agrees quietly.

You help him unfasten and take off the different bits of beskar. Piece by piece you peel back the Mandalorian’s shell, placing each shiny part gently on an empty seat. You even fold up his cape and hang the satchel that he had around him on the back of a chair. Din sighs once he’s able to fully settle back. It is a lot more comfortable without the armor. His helmet still props his neck at an awkward angle, but that's something he can deal with. It's something he has to deal with. 

“Will you tell me what happened to you, or are you going to just look at me silently from under that helmet like I can’t tell?” you ask, teasing lightly. 

Din is eternally grateful for the cover his helmet provides. His face is on fire and the helmet is swallowing the flames. 

“A Corellian welcome.”

You give him a look that says you aren't satisfied with that answer.

“I don't know what that means and you know it,” you cross your arms.

He does know it. Trying to circumvent the conversation, but appease you is a dirty Mandalorian trick. 

“Corellians say hello with their fists. They say hello harder when you’re after one of their friends,” he elaborates, hand crossing his body to brace his side at the memory of slamming into a table. 

“Remind me to never go there in my many travels.”

“I’ll do my best.”

You chuckle. Tension that you didn't know had gripped your shoulders eases. Sure, part of you was concerned because of Grogu. Both because you didn't want the kid to be an orphan and because you simply aren’t prepared to be a single parent. Watching the kid on your own for a couple days at a time at most? Sure. Permanent and sole responsibility? No. A bigger slice of the concern goes to the Mandalorian himself. 

He’s been by more than a dozen times at this point. Each time you find yourself sinking further and further. You're up to your knees in him. Wading through uncharted waters, unsure you’ll ever reach the dock on the other side. Yet, each minute spent in his presence pushes you forward. His care for Grogu, his stories, the way you can tell he’s growing more comfortable around you when he jokes back. All little glimmers of light beneath the surface below your knees. Glimmers that lead your way.

“Inside my bag, front left pocket,” he tells you.

“What?” you stare at him dubiously.

“There’s something in there. Grab it.”

Without another word you begin searching the soft leather bag. Grogu gurgles up at Din from beside the cot. Din drops a gloved hand over the side, allowing Grogu to take hold of it. The small gesture is what keeps gravity working on him, Din’s sure of it. All the aching, the soreness, eases with the assurance that Grogu is okay. Proof of that is his tiny grip around Din’s thick gloved finger.

“What is this?”

In your hand is a smooth square piece of fabric. The size makes you think of a bandana, but the material is soft. It has an almost liquid quality to it. The colors are beautifully pigmented. A rich blue, a pattern of small white fish dotted all over, and a golden trim. This piece of fabric is likely the nicest thing you’ve ever held in your life.

“It’s for you,” he says it like those three words explain everything.

“I- what?”

“It’s Corellian silk. Pieces that size are good for wrapping around your head. It keeps you cool, absorbs moisture, but stays soft,” he explains.

You can't tell if he’s peering at you through his visor. All you know is your mouth is slightly parted in awe. 

“I can’t possibly accept this.”

You begin to put it back, but he grunts in annoyance.

“Please.”

Your eyes bounce from the Corellian silk to the Mandalorian. It’s truly gorgeous and would do wonders when you’re painting on especially humid days. 

“I just wish I could thank you properly.”

“Just saying thank you is enough.”

You crack a small amused smile.

“I mean that I still don't know your name. Names are important to my people. I didn't want to push you, I know your people value boundaries and privacy.”

The Mandalorian is quiet for so long you begin to worry. He can tell by the way the silk wrinkles in your grip. Right when you open your mouth to apologize for crossing the line, he speaks again.

“Din. My name is Din.” 

A wide relieved smile breaks out on your face. Din is starting to think that of all the stunning landscapes and views Naboo has to offer, your smile is his favorite.

“Thank you, Din. It’s beautiful. I’ve never felt anything like it,” childlike wonder invades your tone, “I’ve never owned something so nice before.” 

He watches you fold the fabric into a triangle then tie it around your head. It covers your head from your hairline back, leaving what’s left of the length of your hair pouring out the back. When your hair is fully out of your face, Din’s breath hitches. 

He gets an unobstructed view of your features, no distractions. The curves of your cheekbones and nose create a smooth mountainous backdrop for the lush valley that is the rest of your features. Every inch of your face makes Din think of the flourishing environment of Naboo. Especially because, like many of the people around here, you have an ageless quality about you. Something that’s shared with the planet itself and its architecture. This moment convinces Din that every good thing Naboo has to offer has accumulated in the mountains, mixed together, and created you.

“You look good. Nice things suit you,” Din comments once all his breath comes back to him. 

You are acutely aware of the heat that climbs up your neck until it reaches the tips of your ears. A small, coy smile appears on your lips. 

“Thank you,” your voice comes out hushed, but you can tell he hears. 

Grogu begins a free solo up Din’s arm. It’s clear it causes Din pain with the way he tenses, but he doesn't do anything to stop the kid. He’s a little bit of a pushover for the pint sized menace, something that warms your heart. You quickly extract Grogu from Din’s arm, but not before he reaches his shoulder. Din relaxes when the weight and pressure of Grogu is lifted. Knowing the kid is now cooing and chirping in your arms provides an extra layer of relief. 

“Let’s let your dad rest, yeah?” You give Grogu raised eyebrows, looking for confirmation. 

Grogu’s ears lower in disappointment. Din really really likes when you call him Grogu’s dad. When you talk to the kid like his life is normal.

“I know we missed him, but we can terrorize him tomorrow,” your voice is honey like. 

The words hit Din in his chest. Almost as hard as that Corellian bartender. 

“You missed me, huh?” A smirk toys at the corners of his lips.

Maker knows this helmet has made it impossible for him to school his expression at this point. There are certainly some tricks you can't teach an old dog. How to not show every single thought on your face is definitely one of them. Not after a lifetime of not having to.

“Don’t get too smug, now. It’s not becoming,” you chide playfully. 

A deep chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. It lasts a second before turning into a pained hiss.

“Din, you're clearly not okay. Let me get you some ice at least.”

He gives a curt nod. Din watches you go to the kitchen, grab a dish cloth, and start digging in the icebox. You plop some ice in the cloth and tie it all up into a makeshift ice pack. Grogu watches curiously from your hip the entire time.

When you offer the ice to Din, Grogu nuzzles further into you. It almost feels like he’s thanking you for caring for his dad. Din accepts the ice and holds it to the bottom of his rib cage. A moment of deep thought crosses your face as you watch him, unaware that beneath that helmet he’s watching you as well.

“Stop,” he says suddenly.

“Stop what?” you furrow your brows.

“Stop worrying over me. We’ll be gone by morning, you don't have to worry.”

You shake your head.

“No, I’m not worried about you being here. I’m worried about you leaving too soon and making this worse. I can talk to Melda at the Inn about letting you use a bed if the cot-”

“Right, I forgot how you people are.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, Din knows as soon as it's out. You bristle. If you had fur, he’s sure he’d be watching your hackles raise.

“How us people are?” You question.

“I didn't mean anything by it,” he tries to diffuse the situation.

He only adds fuel to the flames. You take his words as dismissive rather than explanatory. 

“There’s no way to say that and not mean anything by it. What exactly are my people like?” you're more forceful this time, demanding an answer from him. 

A real answer, not some vague Mandalorian partial truth.

“Kind.”

The answers causes you to pause. Any building anger halts, any budding snap response disappears, and confusion takes both their places. 

“Kind?”

“Yes, kind. Any other planet and I would have already been at the Inn, or my ship. The Grizmallti are known for treating their visitors like locals. You have a saying about it,” he explains. 

“Give to each child of Nabu as if you are giving to yourself,” you say softly.

“Mandalorians don’t have anything about giving. Mostly just taking. That's why I like it here.”

The thought is so incredibly comforting. Din likes being here because of the nature of you and your people, not despite it. You feel validated. What Din finds solace in is what drove Sola away. You can recall one of the last times you spoke to her. She spat venom when you attempted to reason with her Grizmallti roots. Scolded you for not living for yourself, for following the ways of Dee’ja Peak like a lemming. 

What she never understood is that you are living for yourself. You love your community, your way of life. Sure you’d like to expand your horizons. You'd like to explore the far reaches of the galaxy and see everything there is to see. Still, you always pictured yourself coming right back here when you’re done and continuing caring for those around you when you do so. There is nothing more fulfilling for you than caring about and for others. You have hope that if Din doesn't fully understand that now, he could in the future. 

“Have you ever thought about staying?” The question slips out before you can catch it.

“It’s not what we do.”

“What’s not?”

“Staying in one place.”

You simply nod. The silence gnaws at your ankles uncomfortably. You shift on your legs in an attempt to rid yourself of it. Grogu starts trying to climb up your torso. You chuckle as you let him. He clambers up until he’s holding onto your head and standing on your shoulder. You tilt your head to give him more room and reach up to steady him with your hands. Din watches fondly as the ice does its job.

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” he asks.

Your gaze snaps back over to him. A small, almost sad smile appears.

“All the time,” you admit.

“Why don’t you?” 

“It’s not that simple. Like you said, people don't leave here often.”

You lift Grogu off of your shoulder where he was playing with the silk on your head. The sun has fully set outside. Trilling can be heard through the windows from the bugs. You set Grogu into his pod. He lays back easily, pooped and ready for sleep. 

“That doesn't mean they don't leave at all,” Din points out gently. 

The pod shuts itself as Grogu drifts off. No doubt dreaming about those pesky snails. You finally allow yourself to sit, taking the seat beside where Din lays. 

“I suppose it doesn't,” you sigh.

“Why don't you?” He repeats his question.

You open and close your mouth a couple times with false starts. A frown settles in when you can't find an excuse that satisfies you.

“I don’t know… I’m scared, I guess.”

“Scared of what?”

“I’ve never been further than the river. I know it probably sounds silly to someone who travels for a living, but I’m afraid I won't make it home if I leave,” your voice is pillow soft and contemplative. 

Din takes a steadying inhale through his nose. Then he places a heavy gloved hand on your knee. As his heart pounds in his chest, he gives a comforting squeeze. 

“That’s not silly.”

You swallow the lump that’s suddenly in your throat. This is the first time you find yourself wishing you could see Din’s face. The beskar has always just been a part of him. Now that all of it but his helmet is shedded it fully hits you. There is someone underneath all that armor. Someone with skin that isn't blaster proof. Someone whose body is likely warm rather than icy to the touch. Someone whose face is looking at you, reassuring you, and making an expression you’ll never be able to see. Oh, how you long to see how he looks at you. 

“Thank you, Din.”

You place your hand over his. The material is rough to the touch, but it still comforts you. It’s still Din’s hand bridging a gap that’s never been bridged before. He’s offering a tender touch that you’ve only seen him give to Grogu.

“I’d ensure you make it home,” he states.

All you can do is blink at him for a moment. 

“What are you saying?” you ask it slowly, beating down the rising hope and heartbeat. 

“You can come with us. I’ll keep you safe.”

His voice is certain and unwavering. That hope you were beating down wins, bursting into your chest. The smile that grows on your face is blinding and breathtaking. Din has the terrifying thought that he would do whatever he can to make you continue smiling like that.

“Are you sure I won’t slow you down?”

“I already travel with a child. You’ll be easy.”

You nod enthusiastically. Dank farrik, Din must be absolutely melting in his helmet. There’s no other reason his brain is short circuiting like this.

“I guess this way you don't have to come all the way back to Nabu to bring me gifts,” you tease. 

Another circuit in Din’s brain pops.

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Where would we go first?” 

“Mos Eisley first, then wherever the bounty takes us.”

“Mos Eisley?” You ask feeling just a bit stupid.

“Tatooine.”

You nod thinking of what to pack. Tatooine is a desert planet, but you’ll be going to places of all temperatures and weather. At the same time, you don't want to pack too heavy. How are you going to fit all your art supplies into a bag? Will there even be room on his ship?

“My easel and supplies, will there be room? I suppose I can always just stick to sketching and paint when I get back,” you mumble the end to yourself.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make room.”

A small gesture that carries such big implications for how you’ll fit into his life from here on out. Din will no longer be entering your space. You won't be the one adjusting and making room. He will. Din is going to alter everything about his life so you can fit neatly in it. 

“Y’know, that’s the first time you’ve told me not to worry that actually made me stop worrying,” you muse. 

“You worry too much.”

His hand squeezes your knee further. 

“It’s hard not to with you two around,” you tease with a playful smile.

You can't hear it, but you can see the light chuckle move in his chest. 

“You should hit the rack. Big day tomorrow,” Din says softly.

He gives your knee one last squeeze before removing it. Your knee is suddenly cold. Din misses the warmth he was able to barely feel through his glove. He wonders how warm you are without the glove.

“Big day, indeed.”

***

You don't mention saying goodbye to any family the next morning. Din doesn't ask. If your sister is any indication, family is likely a sore topic. You hug various people as you walk to Dee’ja Port. Din recognizes Gus, who sends you away with a basket of bread and a firm order not to forget to eat. Another person you introduce as Luka gives you a bottle of spotchka. Then Melda, the woman Din spoke to at the Inn, shoves over a rolled up blanket. It seems to be made of every hue in a Naboo sunset and woven together with thick soft yarn. He watches your eyes widen.

“Melda, you must need this. I can't take it,” you say and attempt to hand it back.

Melda shakes her head and holds her hand up to stop you.

“We have plenty. I want you to have a piece of home with you when you need it. Nothing more Dee'ja Peak than one of my blankets,” she insists.

You give her an extra tight hug. When you set off again you explain to Din that the blanket is one used on the beds in the Inn. Melda hand makes them. She sells them during festivals and sometimes even takes commissions. They’re expensive, though. They take a lot of work and material. Her giving you one is a heart swelling gesture. 

All in all it takes the two of you twenty-five minutes to make the ten minute walk to Dee’ja Port. Every few buildings someone is stopping you to give you a hug and wish you well. Din and Grogu watch in silent awe at the sheer amount of love you are showered with on your way out. 

Dee’ja Port houses four bays and cheap docking. The Razor Crest is sitting in the furthest bay. He leads you to her, telling you what she’s called. It feels like he’s nervously introducing you to a family member. You give him a warm smile that you then direct to the Crest. You place a gentle hand on the side of her body.

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” you hum.

Din chuckles, drawing your attention.

“She’s a piece of garbage, but she’s our piece of garbage,” he says.

He helps you to secure your things in the cargo hold. Priority is to take off, then you can figure out where exactly everything will go. It’s strange imagining him existing in this space. While you can see him in the way everything is organized, there’s nothing else that feels like Din. 

From the cargo hold you pass the small living quarters and climb up into the cockpit. You sit to Din’s right, Grogu on your lap. Grogu coos and reaches out to the left. When you follow his little hand you find your drawings on the back wall. The one you drew of Din and Grogu that first morning and the silly little crayon sketch. Your face heats up.

“I didn't think you hung them up,” you comment. 

Din glances at you then over his other shoulder. 

“Oh- the-,” he clears his throat a little, “the kid really likes them.” 

You smile as Din faces forward. Din swears his beskar must be red and gooey with how hot his skin is. 

“Awe, you like my drawings, Grogu?” you coo down at the kid. 

He looks up at you with his ears perked up, gurgling. 

“I’m glad because there’s only going to be more,” you say, eyes darting up to where Din is flipping switches and pressing buttons. 

Grogu coos happily. The Crest roars to life, causing you to jump a bit.

“Sorry,” Din mumbles as he continues readying the ship. 

When the ship starts to move it really sinks in. You’re leaving Dee’ja Peak. You’re leaving Nabu. Din looks at you over his shoulder. You can see your reflection in his visor, wide eyed and anxious.

“Ready?” Din asks.

You take a deep breath.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Din nods and looks forward again. Another few flips and clicks then the ship is off. As you leave your home and everyone you know behind, your eyes stay glued on the beskar-clad man in front of you. You watch him open up an entire galaxy of possibilities to you for no reason other than the desire to do so. The blue of the atmosphere gives way to an endless expanse of stars, but you’re sure the brightest of them all is in this cockpit with you.

Masterlist

My Masterlist, I am always taking requests: Acotar, My Hero Academia, She-ra, Voltron, Haikyuu, Venom, Kamisama Kiss, Legacies, Vampire Diaries, The Originals, Percy Jackson, Greek and Egyptian Gods.

Will add on with more as time goes on!

———————————————————————————————————–

ACOTAR Lovers of Shadow (Azriel x Fem Reader): Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

I Make Things (Lucien x Reader (One-Shot): Chapter 1

My Hero Academia  Chained To Him (Bakugou x Fem Reader): Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Dabi x Hero In Training Reader: Chapter 1  Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4  Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Love Isn’t An Illusion (TodoBakuReader): Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Black Panther:  A True Warrior (M’Baku x Fem Reader (Oneshot)): Chapter 1

She-ra  Home Is Where The Heart Is (Catdora(One-Shot)): Chapter 1

A Good Nights Rest

word count: 785

genre: fluff, slice of life

pairings: Ayato x gn! reader

warnings: none

additional notes: here’s the first of m a n y Ayato oneshots, I love him so much so I will definitely write abt him a lot. If you have any suggestions or you have anything you would like me to write don't be afraid to send me an ask !!

Want to be tagged in my works click here

   The pink and oranges that paint the sky fade into the purple of the nation of eternity. The fan you hold hides the bottom half of your face, leaving those around you to have to guess what you are thinking. As you walk through the main square of Inazuma, you catch sight of a specific stand that holds your lover's favorite drink. 

   You take a slight detour from your previous destination, heading toward the stand you and your husband frequent. The stand owner recognizes you almost immediately, giving you a smile before making your order. You make small talk as he does, before placing the correct amount of mora on the table. Grabbing the drinks, you send the stand owner one last smile. 

   You walk your way through Inazuma, toward the Estate you had been away from the entire day. The sky has darkened at this point, fireflies starting to light the way along with the many glowing plants that populate the nation. You enjoy the scenery as you walk, allowing you to mentally plan an outing for you and your husband. The gates and guards of the Kamisato estate slowly become visible, causing you to speed up a little. 

   You pass the guards with a tilt of the head, allowing a smile to stretch your lips. You haven’t seen your husband all day, and you were craving the warmth he holds. The door to the estate is quickly pulled open as you approach, Thoma standing there with his usual smile. 

   “Good evening! How was your day in the city,” he questions, continuing to sweep the entranceway as you chat. “My day was good Thoma, there should be a few things that are shipped here tomorrow so please be on the lookout for that.” “Of course!” “Also, after you finish sweeping the entryway, you are excused for the night. I can take care of Lord Kamisato from here,” You send him a charming smile. 

   He nods and smiles at you as well. You quickly toe your shoes off then continue your way through the maze of an estate. The door to your lover’s office finally comes into view, it has probably only been opened a few times for Thoma to drop off tea or a meal for him. You quickly maneuver the drinks in your hands to make it possible to open the door.

   The opening of the door doesn’t alert your husband of your entrance and neither does the placing of the drinks on the desk. You walk behind him, quickly lacing your arms over his shoulders from behind, surprising him enough to quickly whip his head toward your own. Once he sees you, his once tense shoulders soften, a charming smile curving his lips upward. The mole underneath his lower lip moving with the curve of his lip, making the smile all the more gorgeous. 

   He notices the staring and his once charming smile quickly shifts into a sly smirk. He raises his head a little, his nose brushing against yours causing your face to flush the slightest bit. Even after being married to the man, the smallest things he does still affect you. Your own smile doesn’t dim in the slightest while you lean in the final inch to connect your lips. 

   The feeling of what could be compared to butterflies erupts in your stomach as he tilts his head a little. Your eyes flutter close as the kiss continues. He leans back slightly before laying his forehead against yours. He chuckles slightly as your eyes open to meet with his icy ones. “Welcome home honey,” his smile stays in place as he says these words. “It is late, you should continue on your way to our chambers to get the optimal amount of sleep.” He places a chaste peck to your cheek before turning to continue his work. 

   You sigh slightly, making Ayato shiver slightly at the sensation, before your hand grips his chin. His wide eyes meet your calm ones as you turn his head toward you, “as you said sweetheart, we should continue to our chamber to get the optimal amount of sleep.” The emotion behind your eyes glints playfully as you slowly start to remove yourself from him. 

   “It has been so long since I've fallen asleep beside my husband, I do hope he knows what he’s doing my heart,” you tease, walking away from him and toward the door. He chuckles while watching you disappear into the hallway, before grabbing another document to scan over in the candlelight. Your head pops up from behind the door and he looks up to find you smirking at him. 

   “Come on casanova, it's time for you to go to sleep.”

taglist:

Best Of Us

Chapter 8: Focus

Summary: Being an Omega is hard, it could be so lonely. The hardships that you would sometimes feel seemed to much, always expected of things you could never fully reach. Always seen as a piece of meat to some, seen as weak and stupid. So you worked your ass off to finally work your dream job. And the world all changed when you met one of the bosses. And couldn’t help but end up falling.

Paring: Rap Line X Fem!Chubby OmegaReader

Warning: A/O/B!VERS, mentions of sexual harassment, heats, ruts, knotting, breeding, angst, possessive behavior, more warnings will be added as needed.

An(IMPORTANT…kinda of lol): Hello my sweets! I just wanted to give you all a heads up that I will be closing the Tag list after I realize Chapter Ten, just for a bit it will open back up eventually its just getting be to much to keep up with at the momment! So defiently keep an eyes out in the next couple of weeks of the tag list closing and when it should open back up if that makes senses lol. Also I was woundering if you guys would like to talk about the story togthers after each chapter? Like a reading party where you guys send in your thoughts and I will respound to as many, if not all of the replys, asks and anons! Defeintly tell my your thoughts on that if you fine it intresting or not! I hope you like this chapter, it’s most defitnly on the long side compared to the perivous chapters, and they only seem to keep getting longer lol. Anyway have a great day, and I hope you enjoy reading!!!

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The Introduction of Mrs. Lecter

Hannibal lecter x reader

Word count: 3864

Warnings: slight mention of unrequited love

Will Graham wouldn’t have ever guessed that Hannibal Lecter was married. Not once did he mention a wife or wear a piece of metal around his finger. So imagine his shock and confusion when he steps into Hannibal’s office only to see him dancing with a woman he’s never seen before. Will stood in silence at the door, watching the couple glide around the room like fairies. It wasn’t until Hannibal spun the pretty woman that they stopped.

“Will, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Hannibal’s voice caused Will to cut off his staring from the pretty lady and look at Hannibal instead. “I didn’t know you were busy, I should’ve called.” Will felt awkward, he had just walked into an intimate moment between Hannibal and this mystery woman. “Nonsense darling, I just came for an impromptu visit, come sit, I believe there’s enough lunch for all three of us.” Her voice surprised Will. He looked at her again only to see the sugary smile she was offering him. “Will meet my wife, (y/n). (Y/n), meet my close friend and colleague, Will.”

The introduction only made her smile brighter and she turned to look up at Hannibal, softly saying something that caused the man to smile. Will observed the couple together, he thought it was odd to see Hannibal as such a caring husband. Hannibal’s hand was splayed over the small of his wife’s back as she stepped forward to greet Will fully. He couldn’t hair her even if he tried. Will made his way into the office and sat in front of Hannibal’s desk, beside (y/n). Now that he was closer, he could see that she didn’t carry the same amount of age that Hannibal did. No, she was more youthful and her face held the same type of innocence that Abigail’s held.

“I-I didn’t know Hannibal was married, he doesn’t wear a ring or anything.” The words left Will’s mouth before he couldn’t even comprehend what was happening. (Y/n) turned to look at him, her mouth stuffed with food that hadn’t been chewed yet, it made her look like a chipmunk. Hannibal also stopped his actions, looking up at Will before his hands went to his neck and pulled out a silver chain with a wedding band on it. “I didn’t want to scratch up my ring or lose it. I find it more practical to wear it as a necklace in case of any violent patients.” Hannibal’s voice was soothing and accented as he spoke to Will. His voice held no offence to his question.

(Y/n) looked at Will then glanced to his plate, he hadn’t touched his food yet, a small frown placed itself on her face before disappearing. This didn’t go unnoticed by Hannibal as he subtly gestured to Will to eat. A while after they’d eaten and shared some stories, the three lounged around in the office. Will sitting across from Hannibal and (y/n) who had her feet in his lap, the glossy red heeled boots she was wearing long abandoned. They drank some white wine at the request of Hannibal and it was now that Will let down his walls and fully took in Hannibal’s wife. He would call her pretty but that would be an

understatement, she was stunning. The type of beauty that inspired writers and the muse for artists all around the world.

She was different from Hannibal though. While he was more clean and neat, she was classy and old timey. At this moment though, she seemed younger than she was, dressed in a black silk skirt and a red corset top that was topped off with a black leather jacket now strewn over Hannibal's chair. A small cross necklace adorned her neck and big gothic earrings. She looked like a teenage girl's vampire dream. From their earlier conversations, Will had learnt that (Y/n) was an English teacher at a local highschool. Hannibal informed him further by stating that she also writes books.

Seeing them together brought Will to reality, he could never be her. No matter how much he tried, Will would never fit and flow with Hannibal like she does. They’re two different rivers that merge together at one end. One where you can’t tell where it starts and ends. If Hannibal was the moon then she was his stars. Will looked away from the couple for a few seconds, their loving glances only causing pain in his heart. Their night ended with (y/n) hugging Will goodbye and making him promise to bring Winston next time. He complied before giving the couple a smile and driving off to his isolated home in wolf trap. It was a long drive and the night sky had set long before his departure.

Back in Baltimore, Hannibal was picking up papers and organizing them while his wife put on her boots and jacket. By the time she was done, Hannibal had finished organizing the papers and turned to her, offering his arm for her to grasp onto before leaving the building. They are a couple that fit well together. It was like the universe had fated them to be together and created them from the same particles. The following morning Hannibal followed his daily routine of waking up, making breakfast, waking up (y/n), eating, getting ready and then heading off for the day with a soft kiss pressed to the lips. Today he was starting the day by helping Jack with a new body, one that he had put there two nights prior. A shrine for his beautiful wife, her writing had always inspired him. Just like how he was the muse for most of her characters, she was the muse for his murders.

Hannibal remembers the first time he met (y/n). It was many years ago now in Portland. He was there on business and she was there with her friends. A graduation trip to celebrate their masters. The two had bumped into each other when they went to grab the same book. Her soft shy eyes staring up to his predator ones. He knew he wanted her then and had her. In his care and in this relationship, (y/n) grew from being a bunny to being a fox. Cunning and smart just like he was, on par with him.

Snapping from his thoughts, Hannibal turned his attention fully to Jack who was still speaking of the body. From his peripheral vision, he could see Beverly studying something that she picked up from the ground. For a moment he prayed that it wasn’t a picture of him and his wife. Hannibal tried everything to keep her away from all of this but unfortunately that one picture had to fall out of his wallet at this moment and land into the hands of a very inquisitive Beverly Katz.

Beverly looked at Hannibal with a questioning look and he knew there and then that the small picture she was holding was the one from a dinner party hosted by his in-laws.

There was no doubt that it was the picture of him nosing her neck as she smiled for the camera. Hannibal sighed internally before focusing everything back on Jack. Will saw the picture that Bev picked up, she gestured to him with a questioning look and he just shrugged back, not wanting to talk about (y/n) without her or Hannibal’s permission. It was after that they were done discussing that Hannibal was cornered by Beverly. She asked him questions about the “pretty woman in the picture.” “That pretty woman is the lady I’m married to.” His answer shocked Beverly and gave him the opportunity to take the picture back from her hands. Unfortunately for him, Jack and Alana had overheard their conversation. Jack only raised an eyebrow in Alana’s direction who simply copied his action.

To say that Hannibal was stressed is an understatement, he was jittery on his way to pick his darling wife up from work and couldn’t stop shaking his leg. This was very out of character for him and (y/n) noticed. She always notices when her always calm husband is anxious. Slipping herself into the front seat, (y/n) turned to look at her husband and he looked right back at her. It was in these rare moments that Hannibal showed her his puppy eyes. “They know.” Hannibal’s voice was so soft that she barely heard him. Placing her hand on his cheek and leaning in to touch their foreheads together, (y/n) spoke, “it was about time, my love. You couldn’t keep me hidden forever.” She placed a small soft kiss to his lips and pulled back, offering the older man a sugary sweet smile.

Hannibal calmed down a bit before driving home, it was a nice drive, like it always is. Filled with conversation about each other’s day. It was when Hannibal was lounging in bed and watching his wife brush her hair that he told her about the events of today. He watched her as she brushed her hair out, concentrating in the heart shaped mirror. Hannibal told her that Beverly saw the picture and how Jack and Alana had overheard their conversation. At this, she paused before making eye contact with him through the mirror. (Y/n) got up and walked towards Hannibal and sat on the bed next to him, smiling gently before speaking, “You should introduce me properly Dr. Lecter. Now that everyone knows, I believe a feast is in order.” Her lips curled up into a sharp smile, her canines similar to Hannibal’s own. He reporicated the smile, the two of them looking like hunters who just caught their prey.

Pulling her down to him, Hannibal’s fingers played with her hair before they moved to the base of her neck, pulling his wife down in a passion filled kiss. Lipstick staining his lips and cheek. It was a bruising kiss but it was one filled with passion and love, not lust. Pulling apart, Hannibal pulled his wife to sleep on top of him, like a weighted blanket. He couldn’t sleep without the weight of her limbs on him, she was the exact same way. Not being able to sleep without the other was common. They slept peacefully that night, like they did every night.

In the morning, Hannibal was the first one to wake up. The sunlight filtered through the curtains and washed over his wife beautifully. It made her skin glow under the sun and she looked like a vision, one that he couldn’t pass up on drawing. Slowly untangling himself from her, Hannibal walked over to her glossy red and black vanity and picked up his drawing bed and pencil before sitting down and drawing her. A couple of hours passed before she stirred awake, her arm feeling for Hannibal’s body next to her and when she couldn’t find it, she sat up in panic, only to see the said man’s focus in his drawing pad.

Hannibal’s marron eyes looked up into his wife’s and he got up to place a kiss on her forehead before checking the clock. It was past their usual breakfast time. (Y/n) asked him if they could eat some pancakes this morning and Hannibal just laughed before rushing her two the washroom, following behind her closely. After their morning routine and a few sneaky kisses, Hannibal prepared pancakes for the two of them in the kitchen while (y/n) started on some marking.

“When do you plan to have that feast, darling?” At this, Hannibal looked up, stopping his actions momentarily before responding, “How about this weekend? You’re free and I won’t put a body out for them, making them free too.” She snorted at that. It caused Hannibal to smile. She always loved his dry sense of humour. Maybe that’s why she got along with Will that day. The rest of their breakfast passed in comfortable silence. The sound of piano music playing in the background kept them company.

After breakfast was when the talk of the great feast started. Hannibal wanted to get this done and over with while (y/n) wanted to drag it out as long as she possibly could. It wasn’t every day that you finally came out of the shadows. They talked about who to invite and who to not invite. Hannibal nearly lost it when his wife mentioned that she wanted to invite Freddie Lounds and Dr. Chilton. The rest of the list were just people from work. Bryce, Zeller, Katz, Crawford, Bloom and Graham along with Margot Verger. Hannibal looked towards his wife, her bright eyes gleamed with excitement and she had a barely concealed smile on her face.

He loved seeing her like this, it always made him so happy. Especially when she saw the bodies that he had dedicated to her. Seeing her like this was how she saw him when he read the poetry written about him. He took her left hand gently in his, the long acrylics she had slightly digging into his skin, Hannibal’s fingers went to play with her wedding band as she talked about the party. They were both excited, really excited.

It was on Monday that Hannibal gave out the invites to everyone. Will just nodded his head awkwardly and muttered something about coming while Alana just raised her eyebrow and nodded her head, Jack also mentioned that he would come and bring Bella along with Him. Beverly was the one most excited about the invitation. Hannibal gently smiled at her before going back to help Will.

At home, Hannibal’s darling wife was tearing apart their shared closet in order to look for the perfect outfits. Spoiler, she didn’t find one. (Y/n) was frustrated, everything she owned was pretty, yes, but it was not something that she would wear to a party in which they were the hosts. No, that simply wouldn’t do, so instead the young woman set out to her favourite seamstress. An old Russian lady who knew exactly what she wanted everything single time. Throwing on a coat and some gloves, (y/n) rushed to her car and drove off to Ludmila’s house. An hour or so later she reached the house. Parking her car nicely, the young woman exited her car before climbing up the stairs to knock on the door. However, before she could get a knock in, the door was pulled open by Ludmila who looked pleased to see her. The older woman pulled her in and ushered her to the couch and told her to sit while she got some tea and biscuits.

After their little snack and tea time was done, Ludmila pulled out her drawing pad and began to work on exactly what (y/n) had wanted. The younger woman was filled with so many ideas, the only downside was that she didn’t know how to sew. Ludmila thought that the woman was a secret vampire, not that she would ever tell her that. No, but her and her husband looked like they were Morticia and Gomez Addams. Always so happy over the grimmest of things. (Y/n) had left 3 hours later, after choosing the fabric of the dress and approving the design that she liked. It wasn’t a difficult job, she was just picky.

On the drive back home, she glanced at the time, realizing that it was far later than she thought and Hannibal must be home already, preparing dinner. Parking her cherry red mustang beside Hannibal’s car, (y/n) exited the car and grabbed the huge amount of bags that filled the back seats. She had stopped for a little errand that turned into a shopping trip, not that Hannibal minded. It was like the said man smelled her and opened the door. Hannibal glanced at the bags in her hands before grabbing them and greeting his wife with loving kisses on both of her cheeks.

“I see you did a little shopping today my dove, how was it?” Hannibal had retreated back to the kitchen by the time his question was done. His darling wife sat in front of him on a bar stool before sighing and answering, “Don't even ask, first I went to Ludmila’s for a dress I just commissioned and then what was supposed to be a short errant turned into a shopping haul. I grabbed you a few ties.” Hannibal smiled at his wife’s sentiment of always grabbing him something. No matter what she did or where she was, she always got him something.

For dinner the two dined on some lamb and pasta complimented by red wine and then followed by some lava cake. Hannibal had taken his wife’s feet in his lap and was rubbing them softly, the two conversed about the theme of the party and (y/n) had mentioned that she wanted something dark themed. Like always. Hannibal compiled since he thought that the decorations of the house were already very fitting. Changing them to a lighter theme would’ve been a hassle, one that he wasn’t up for. His wife’s silk nightgown brushed against his arm before she came and sat down in his lap, her hand caressing his hair. Hannibal purred like a cat, tilting his head back to lean into her touch more.

The day of the big feast was coming closer than ever, two weeks had already passed since the initial invite was sent out and the party was this weekend. Ludmila had dropped the dress off earlier today and (y/n) was in love. It was exactly what she wanted but somehow Ludmila’s work was better than something her imagination could ever conjure. Hannibal let a small gasp when he saw the dress, it was barely audible but his wife still heard it. She grinned, her canines showing slightly. It’s a beautiful dress. A deep red colour that was done in tulle and some satin fabric thrown in. The tulle wrapped around her shoulders in an off the shoulder fashion leaving her collarbones and shoulders exposed. The rest of the dress wrapped around her chest and waist in a corset look before falling behind her in a very gilded fashion. The under layer of the skirt was made from a deeper red satin and the tulle fell over it as another layer. The dress was a masterpiece. Hannibal couldn’t take his eyes away from the dress, his mind wandering to how she would look in it. The back was a lace up corset. One of his favourite looks on his wife.

The day of the party was something. Hannibal had taken a day off from work and consultation and focused solely on the food while (y/n) was cleaning and dusting the little trinkets they had lying around the house. Her favourite one was the skull named Steve, he was a fun guy. The flower arrangements had been done and set already and the only thing left to do was fix the trinkets a little before heading up and getting ready. The trinkets were fixed in no time and it was also when Hannibal was done cooking. (Y/n) peered into the kitchen before smiling at Hannibal and grabbing his hand and tugging the two of them upstairs. Once they were upstairs, the couple quickly shaded their clothes and hopped into the shower. It was a really relaxing shower, one that Hannibal had actually felt relaxed in. After getting out and drying themselves and lotioning. Hannibal helped his wife into her dress, lacing her up tightly while placing small kisses down her neck and shoulders. An act like this always made her smile, a soft gentle smile, like the one she had now.

(Y/n) had gone dark with her makeup, a siren eye look with a deep red lipstick to match her dress. Hannibal pulled out a choker that he had customized for his wife, it was diamond with rubies decorating it with matching earrings. She looked like a true vampire. Really. Hannibal had matched his wife in a dark black suit and a red tie. Anyone who saw them would definitely think that they’re immortal.

The first guest to come was Will who had bright Winston with him. Hannibal opened the door to let him in and lead him to sit down. Will asked for (y/n) but all Hannibal did was give him a secretive look. Will wondered what she looked like. He knew that she would look beautiful like always. The second to arrive were Alana and Margot, Hannibal knew that something was between them, they only proved it by showing up together. He invited them in and led them to Will who greeted them with an awkward smile. Alana returned the smile while Margot just nodded her head in his general direction.

Bryce, Zeller and Beverly showed up together. They looked wonderful and matched the dark theme. Hannibal could taste Beverly’s excitement and she could smell Will's awkwardness, which is why she rushed over to him as fast as she could. Freddrick Chilton and Freddie Lounds showed up together and Jack and his wife showed up not long after them. They were all here before the timing on the card, something that Hannibal appreciated.

Hannibal clapped his hands before gathering everyone’s attention and calling his wife down. (Y/n) knew how to make an entrance. She really did, she could hear all the gasps that were let out by the invited guests. The women in the party were absolutely in love with (y/n). They loved her dress and the way she carried herself. She was truly beautiful. Jack was just confused as to how he didn’t figure out that Hannibal was married. Nonetheless, he was happy to be here.

The party was in full swing with the guests conversing with (y/n) and marveling at how much of a genius she was. Hannibal admired his wife a lot. She was always there for him through everything. Her and Alana became fast and good friends by the end of the dinner and she loved Beverly and Will already. He loved seeing her like this, so free.

It was around 12am when everyone bid goodbye. Later than most of his parties. (Y/n) hugged all the guests goodbye before waving at them and closing the door. She sighed and Hannibal laughed. He led her upstairs this time and helped her out of her dress before setting a bath for the two of them. In the bath, Hannibal removed his already sleeping wife’s makeup. He could tell how exhausted she was and let her rest in the bathtub for 20 minutes before waking her up and pulling her out. Once she was all dried, he tugged on her sage coloured satin nightgown before tugging on his own night suit. Hannibal fell asleep comfortably that night. With his wife passed out on his chest and her leg thrown over his waist. He fell asleep comfortably and with a smile on his face. A smile that indicated that he was happy to introduce his wife to his world.

Tagging my babes: @chchchcheni @shawty-writes-a-little

Helmets

(platonic crows x reader and Kaz x reader)

Summary: Everyone needs a friend with a bike, am I right? Modern AU.

Warnings: Uh nothing really, stealing, fooling cops. I think at some point it gets repetitive, but I tried.

Note: This is very much a Modern AU, never written one before so let me know what you think. Please!

Kaz Brekker's heart pounded as he darted through the darkened streets, clutching the stolen jewelry close to his chest. He knew the police were hot on his trail, and he needed to find a safe haven quickly. Seeking refuge in an alley, he hoped it would remain a hidden spot, unseen by the pursuing law enforcement.

Just as he caught his breath, a familiar rumble echoed through the narrow passage. Looking up, Kaz's eyes met those of y/n, a skilled motorcyclist and a trusted friend, who had witnessed his daring heist unfold. They had always shared a unique bond, despite y/n's non-involvement with Kaz's gang. Y/n pulled up alongside him, donning a helmet and extending another to him.

"Quick, Kaz! Hop on!" y/n urged, voice filled with urgency. Kaz didn't waste a second, gripping the helmet and securing it on his head before leaping onto the back of the motorcycle.

As they raced through the labyrinthine streets, weaving through traffic, y/n's driving prowess kept them one step ahead of the cops. However, as they approached the vicinity of the Crow Club, y/n noticed a roadblock forming ahead. Cops were halting traffic, scrutinizing every vehicle passing by, searching for Kaz.

Remaining composed, y/n glanced at Kaz and calmly instructed, "Trust me, Kaz. I've got a plan." When their turn came to face the inquisitive officers, y/n answered their questions with an air of nonchalance, providing plausible explanations for their presence in the area. But when asked about Kaz's whereabouts, y/n slyly pointed in the wrong direction.

"Don’t want to be known as a snitch but I saw him running that way," y/n gestured, intentionally leading the police astray. The officers bought the misdirection, hastily leaving to chase shadows. As soon as they were gone, y/n burst into laughter, reveling in the absurdity of the situation.

"Those cops can be so easily fooled," y/n exclaimed, shaking her head. With a mischievous smile, she revved the motorcycle's engine and steered them back toward the safety of the Slat.

Throughout the exhilarating ride, y/n and Kaz shared a mix of relief and amusement, their friendship strengthened by yet another escapade. They knew that no matter the circumstances, they could rely on each other, even in the face of danger.

And so, together, they disappeared into the night, leaving the authorities chasing shadows while the Crow Club awaited their return.

As y/n and Kaz arrived back at the Crow Club, Jesper emerged from the shadows, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Well, well, look who it is!" he exclaimed, playfully nudging y/n's arm. "Going on secret motorcycle rides without me, huh?"

Y/n chuckled and wrapped Jesper in a warm hug. "You know you just have to ask, Jes," she replied, giving him a light squeeze. "Shoot me a text, and I'll pick you up anytime, hun." Their friendship had always been full of banter and lighthearted teasing, but the bond between them was unbreakable.

Jesper pretended to pout, mockingly placing a hand over his heart. "I've been waiting for my invitation, you know. I'm starting to feel left out."

Y/n laughed, their eyes sparkling. "Consider this your official invitation then," they said with a wink. "We'll take the scenic route, but don't blame me if your heart races faster than the bike."

Jesper's expression shifted from playful to contemplative. "You know, I should really learn how to ride a bike," he mumbled, thinking out loud. "But then again, Wylan would probably have a heart attack if I ever brought one home."

As Jesper continued his light-hearted ramblings, y/n's attention turned to the bar, where Kaz stood, contemplating their return. Knowing Kaz's usual demeanor, y/n sidled up to the counter and leaned in, a mischievous glint in their eyes.

"Hey, Kaz," y/n called, a playful tone in their voice. "I think it's time you showed some gratitude. After all, I just saved your ass again."

Kaz's expression flickered between annoyance and begrudging appreciation. With a reluctant sigh, he relented. "Fine," he muttered, conceding defeat. He crossed over to the bar, preparing to fetch y/n their well-deserved drink. “But just one. Drinking and driving-“

“No bueno, I know.” Y/n leaned against the counter as Kaz handed y/n her free drink, a begrudging smile tugged at the corner of his lips. In this twisted little family they called their own, y/n's actions had earned their place as a trusted friend and ally—a position not easily granted, but one that was held dear.

As y/n savored their free drink, Kaz silently joined them at the bar, nursing his own drink. They shared a comfortable silence for a moment, appreciating the respite from the chaos that often engulfed their lives.

Breaking the silence, Kaz spoke, his voice low but filled with genuine admiration. "You know, at this point you should just become a crow." he suggested, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Y/n let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, Kaz, you know me. I like to dance to my own tune," she replied, her eyes glimmering with a sense of independence. The allure of the solitary path held a certain charm for y/n, even though she was always ready to lend a hand when needed.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly into the night, the words weaving between stolen treasures, daring heists, and the intricacies of their shared world. They discussed Kaz's latest acquisition, carefully skirting around details, knowing the importance of secrecy.

After a while, y/n rose from her seat, preparing to bid her friends farewell and head home. But before she could make her exit, Kaz's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Wait, y/n," Kaz said, his tone a touch more vulnerable than usual. "Come up to my office for a moment, if you don't mind."

Curiosity piqued, y/n agreed, following Kaz up to his private sanctuary. As they settled into his office, surrounded by the relics of his brilliance, Kaz spoke, his words laced with a rare gratitude.

"I want to thank you, truly," Kaz began, his gaze steady and sincere. "For saving me, for always having my back, even when you don't have to. You've proven time and again that you're more than a friend; you're an invaluable asset."

Y/n's heart warmed at the rare display of vulnerability from the usually guarded Kaz. She nodded, understanding the weight of his gratitude. "You know I'll always be there when you need me, Kaz," y/n replied softly, appreciating the unspoken bond they shared.

They chatted a while longer, delving into the shadows of their respective endeavors, until finally, y/n bid Kaz goodnight.

As y/n descended the stairs of the Crow Club, her gaze fell upon Jesper, who was engrossed in a game of chance, gambling away what little money he had left. Determined to put a stop to his behavior, y/n called out loudly, "Pretty boy! Let's go for a ride."

Jesper's eyes lit up, and he immediately abandoned the table, leaving the game behind without a second thought. Outside, y/n handed him the helmet that had previously graced Kaz's head. As y/n adjusted her own helmet, Nina appeared, a vibrant presence in the night.

"Hey, you two!" Nina greeted them warmly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. But as her gaze fell upon Jesper donning the helmet, a playful grin stretched across her face. "Finally! You can now shut up about how you've never been invited to ride with y/n."

Y/n shared a knowing smile with Nina, fully aware of Jesper's incessant longing for a motorcycle adventure. With everything ready, y/n revved the engine, ready to conquer the streets once more.

The ride that followed was filled with adrenaline and exhilaration, as y/n took Jesper on a journey more intense than any of the other crows had experienced before. The wind whipped through their hair, the thrill of speed mingling with the laughter that escaped their lips.

Once the ride reached its end, y/n took Jesper back to his home. As they pulled up, Wylan stood at the doorway, his eyes widening in a mix of concern and disbelief at the sight of Jesper removing the helmet.

Wylan's voice trembled slightly as he spoke, a mixture of relief and worry evident in his words. "Jesper, are you trying to give me a heart attack? Please tell me you haven't fully embraced the world of motorcycles!"

Jesper grinned sheepishly, his eyes shining with mischief. "Not fully, Wylan," he replied, wrapping an arm around y/n's shoulder. "But I can't resist the thrill of the ride, especially when y/n is the one behind the handlebars."

As they bid their farewells and Jesper disappeared into the safety of his home, y/n couldn't help but smile. Her adventures with the Crows, the rush of the night, and the bonds they shared were the stuff of legends.

As y/n's thoughts wandered on her journey home, an idea began to form in her mind. It had been a long time since she had genuinely cared for and appreciated friends like Kaz, Jesper, and the rest of the Crows. With that in mind, y/n decided to make one final stop before calling it a night—a visit to the local bike shop.

As y/n stepped into the shop, the familiar face of Phil greeted them warmly. Over time, Phil had become acquainted with y/n, thanks to her frequent visits. Curiosity gleaming in his eyes, Phil asked, "Hey there, what brings you in today? Looking for something specific?"

Y/n smirked and replied, "Just planning to buy a couple of helmets." They shared a laugh as Phil accompanied her to the helmet section, his curiosity piqued. "Did you break your helmet again? What are you even doing with them anymore?" he inquired, amused by y/n's ever-present need for helmets.

Chuckling, y/n shook her head. "No, not this time. I actually have a few friends who tag along on my adventures quite often," she explained. "Figured it's about time they had their own helmets for safety."

Together, y/n and Phil sifted through the collection, searching for helmets that would hopefully fit their respective owners' heads. After selecting six suitable helmets, y/n paid for her purchase, bidding Phil farewell.

As y/n made her way back home, carrying the helmets, she couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth in their heart. The thought of equipping their friends with safety gear symbolized a deeper bond—a recognition of the value these relationships held in her life.

Excitement and anticipation filled y/n's thoughts as they envisioned the reactions of their friends upon receiving the helmets. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about the care and appreciation y/n had for the Crows.

The next morning, y/n arrived at the Crow Club, eager to reunite with her chosen family. With bags filled with helmets slung around their arms, y/n stood outside the closed club, waiting for someone to open the door. The weight of the bags had made her ride a bit of a challenge, but the anticipation fueled her determination.

As the door swung open, revealing Inej, y/n couldn't contain their excitement. It had been weeks since they last saw each other, and their reunion was filled with warmth and genuine affection. Inej enveloped y/n in a tight embrace, and y/n eagerly returned it, savoring the feeling of being back together.

Once inside, Inej's curiosity got the better of her. She asked y/n about the contents of the bags, her eyes gleaming with intrigue. "They're gifts,” Y/n's smile widened “for you guys."

Inej's face lit up with a mix of surprise and gratitude. She explained that the rest of the Crows were currently out but would be arriving shortly. Unable to contain their excitement any longer, y/n handed Inej one of the bags, containing a dazzling dark purple helmet that shimmered under the club's lights and was illustrated with what seemed to be a small dagger at the back of it.

Inej expressed her gratitude, but y/n quickly interjected, a mischievous glint in their eyes. "Don't thank me just yet," she teased. "Try it on first. We need to make sure it fits perfectly."

Inej laughed, understanding y/n's playful nature, and proceeded to try on the helmet. It slipped onto her head flawlessly, a perfect fit. A sense of satisfaction washed over y/n as she watched Inej wearing the helmet, knowing that her gesture of appreciation had been well received.

As the door swung open, signaling the arrival of Wylan and Jesper, y/n turned to greet them. She couldn't help but notice the intertwined hands of the couple. Jesper's eyes flickered towards Inej, who was proudly showing off her new helmet, and he playfully feigned offense.

"Wait, Inej gets her own helmet, but I don't?" Jesper exclaimed, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. Y/n turned around, a mischievous grin playing on her lips, as she retrieved two of the five remaining bags.

With a twinkle in her eyes, y/n handed Jesper the bag, and he hurriedly opened it, his eagerness palpable. Inside was a helmet adorned with two intricately painted guns, a nod to Jesper's sharpshooting skills. Jesper's face lit up with delight as he quickly tried the helmet on, the perfect fit causing a surge of excitement within him.

Y/n chuckled at Jesper's enthusiasm, reminding him, "Oi! You've got to chill, mate." Their attention then turned to Wylan, who approached the group with a faint smile gracing his features. Y/n extended the second bag toward him, her voice filled with warmth and understanding.

"I know you're not really into the whole bike life thing, but you never know." y/n said, her voice tinged with a hint of playfulness. Wylan accepted the bag, his curiosity piqued. As he opened it, a burst of vibrant colors greeted his eyes—a yellow helmet adorned with red and orange flames that swirled around its surface.

Jesper looked on in awe, recognizing the thoughtfulness behind y/n's choice. He couldn't help but admire how the flames on Wylan's helmet represented what he loved most, even without an actual bomb design. With a shy smile, Wylan carefully placed the helmet on his head, the perfect fit a testament to y/n's attention to detail.

The group stood together, each adorned with their new helmets.

As they waited for the rest of the group to arrive, Jesper informed y/n that Kaz was caught up in an important meeting somewhere in the city, while Nina and Matthias were on a much-deserved date. With a collective decision to wait, they settled in, sipping on drinks and engaging in a friendly game of darts, with Jesper predictably emerging as the victor—his sharp aim unmatched by the others.

Time passed, and conversation flowed freely between the group. Amidst the laughter, Wylan found himself drawn to y/n's affinity for motorcycles. He mustered up the courage to strike up a conversation, genuinely curious about her passion.

"Why do you like bikes so much?" Wylan asked, his voice laced with genuine curiosity. Y/n smiled, recognizing Wylan's shy demeanor and the effort he made to engage in conversation. Sensing an opportunity, y/n extended an offer.

"Instead of explaining, how about I show you?" y/n suggested with an inviting smile. Jesper's grin widened, and Inej nodded approvingly, encouraging Wylan to embrace the adventure.

With a mix of curiosity and trepidation, Wylan agreed, realizing that he had his helmet to put to use. Y/n knew this ride would be different from the others y/n had taken the Crows on. She knew Wylan's apprehension toward bikes, so instead of navigating the bustling city streets, y/n took him toward the tranquility of nature, opting for scenic routes where the sounds of honking cars were replaced by the harmonious melodies of birds and the rustle of leaves.

As they cruised through picturesque landscapes, Wylan's initial unease slowly transformed into a sense of peace and appreciation. He marveled at the beauty of nature, his eyes wide with wonder. The ride was calm, allowing him to connect with his surroundings in a way he hadn't experienced before.

Y/n watched Wylan's transformation with a contented smile, knowing that this gentle ride was a reflection of their friendship and understanding. Sometimes, it's not about the thrill of adrenaline but rather finding solace in the serenity of nature and the company of a trusted friend.

As the wind gently caressed their helmet covered faces, Wylan's hesitation melted away, replaced by a newfound sense of freedom. The bond between y/n and Wylan grew stronger, forged through shared experiences and the willingness to step outside their comfort zones.

The ride came to a peaceful end, and as they dismounted their bikes, a sense of tranquility hung in the air. Wylan's eyes sparkled with gratitude as he thanked y/n for the unique experience.

With heartfelt sincerity, y/n replied, "Anytime, Wylan. I'm glad I could show you a different side of the bike life."

As they made their way inside, y/n and Wylan encountered Matthias and Nina, who had just arrived at the Crow Club. Nina's sharp eyes immediately caught sight of Wylan's helmet, and she couldn't resist making a playful comment.

"What do you have there, demo man?" Nina teased, her gaze shifting to Wylan's slightly flushed face. Wylan, a touch embarrassed, explained that the helmet was a gift from y/n.

As the group walked together, y/n guided them toward the table where three gift bags were waiting. With a playful grin, y/n handed a bag to Matthias and another to Nina. Excitement filled the air as they eagerly opened their bags, revealing their personalized helmets.

Matthias' helmet, larger than the others, was a deep shade of blue, adorned with the majestic figures of a moon and a wolf. A sense of awe washed over him as he took in the intricate details. Nina's helmet, on the other hand, shimmered with a beautiful honey color, and it was covered in whimsical waffle designs.

Laughter erupted as they admired their helmets, each reflecting their unique personalities. Y/n then urged them to try the helmets on, curious if Matthias' would fit since she had only given him a ride once before, under emergency circumstances.

As Matthias placed the helmet on his head, it became evident that it was slightly too big. Y/n immediately apologized and promised to get the right size tomorrow, feeling a tinge of regret for not ensuring the perfect fit. However, Matthias reassured them with a warm smile.

"There's no need to apologize, y/n. I really like it," Matthias said sincerely, his voice filled with gratitude. Nina chimed in, expressing her thanks for the beautifully crafted helmet that had unexpectedly ignited her waffle cravings.

With laughter and appreciation, the Crows marveled at their newfound accessories, their helmets serving as tokens of friendship and shared experiences.

As darkness enveloped the city, the tired crows bid their farewells after receiving a text from Kaz letting them know that the club wouldn’t open tonight, gradually dispersing to seek rest in their respective abodes. However, y/n's determination to deliver the final gift spurred her to deviate from the usual path home. Instead, she set her course towards Kaz's apartment, carrying the bag containing his present.

Arriving at Kaz's building, y/n caught sight of him stepping out of his car. With a burst of excitement, she called out his name, catching him off guard. Kaz turned towards her, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity.

"Hello, y/n. What are you doing here?" he inquired, his voice laced with intrigue. Without uttering a word, y/n extended the bag towards him, her smile growing with anticipation.

"How about we go up to your apartment, and you open it?" she suggested, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. Kaz nodded in agreement, briefly summoning the elevator. As the doors slid open, they stepped inside, and y/n couldn't help but notice Kaz's tired demeanor. He gently rubbed his leg, attempting to alleviate the strain from a day likely spent on his feet.

Once they reached Kaz's apartment, they settled on the couch, y/n eagerly awaiting his reaction as he carefully opened the bag. Inside lay an almost black helmet adorned with crows in flight. Yet, what distinguished this helmet from the others was the addition of golden letters at the bottom—KR.

Kaz examined the helmet meticulously, his eyes tracing the intricate details. A sense of appreciation and warmth filled the room as he finally spoke, "It's... beautiful." Y/n blushed slightly but swiftly returned to her playful self.

"I know, right?" she responded, a lightheartedness to her tone. Observing Kaz's finger tracing the initials, a hint of nervousness crept into y/n's mind, questioning whether the inclusion of the "R" was too much. Before she could voice her concerns, Kaz interrupted her by swiftly donning the helmet and declaring his affection.

"I love it," he stated resolutely, his voice brimming with sincerity. Y/n's heart swelled with joy, her playful demeanor restored.

The room seemed to glow with an unspoken understanding and appreciation, as Kaz embraced the thoughtful gift.

<33333!!!

tags! @babyblue-chaos @thescorpioscrow @ekkoismyhusband

heyyyy ryyyyy <333

since ur requests are open i thought id go ahead and ask if you're mayhaps open to anything for batmom? i don't have a completely solid idea but maybe smn like batmom has been getting threats or maybe hate or smn from somebody and everyone's reactions and how they get hella protective?

obv no pressure and you definitely do not have to write this

hope you have a great day bb

Heyyyyy, so this grew hands and wrote itself, I hope you enjoy it. It did end up with a lot of backstory.

Earned Position

5.3k words

You knew this would happen. Once your relationship with Bruce got out there would be an influx of love and hate. You also knew that everyone else knew that as well. It was common knowledge than anyone around a celebrity of sorts would experience that. 

Of course you did the normal things, turned off most notifications and only looked through areas online you knew would mostly be safe. You blocked tags and and only followed people you knew or ones who didn’t post about drama. 

When you did stumble onto hate, you moved on. If someone kept sending you nasty messages you blocked them, when they made other accounts to keep sending the same things, you changed your settings so only those you followed could message you. 

It wasn’t something you wanted to deal with but it was something you could handle. Something you started mentally preparing yourself for when Bruce’s attention on you lasted more than 4 dates, even more so when you caught yourself daydreaming about him.

You were not going to let random bitter people on the internet destroy your happiness like they did their own. Your family however, wanted to destroy what was left of your haters' happiness. Something you were trying to curb, but trying to tell a family of vigilantes who considered you the best mom in existence not to destroy your haters was like talking to a brick wall. Over the years, you had gotten used to it. It barely even registered anymore. But there had been a recent influx of the hate and while it didn’t bother you, it bothered the rest of your family. None of them could stand people talking bad about their mom.

While you hadn’t been there while the older ones were young, the second you had introduced yourself to them, you had taken a very important role in their lives. None of them realizing it at first. All of them had gotten used to the random women Bruce brought home that it took a little while for them to realize how important you were. 

Dick wasn’t sure at first. Thinking you were just another girlfriend that wouldn’t last long. So he didn’t really interact with you much. Ignoring your existence when it wasn’t too rude, or at least obviously rude. Until one night when he was staying at the manor and had a nightmare about his parents death. 

Bruce had an open bed policy. As long as there was still room for him, his bed was open. A policy he had started when Dick had gotten old enough he was worried he wouldn’t be allowed to go when he had a nightmare. Bruce had always reminded all his kids, that nightmares don’t go away just because you’re older and that needing comfort wasn’t something they would outgrow. 

The thing was, you were there. Girlfriends didn’t mind when children did it but they never liked it when his adult kids did it. The shaking in his hands and the way he saw them fall in the darkness of every blink told him the only way he was getting any sleep was with someone. 

Hopefully he could just slip into Bruce’s side and leave before you woke up. That was the plan until he found Damian on Bruce’s side and you had been pulled closer to Bruce taking up what was left. You moved a little and Dick took that as his sign to deal with it himself until he heard you whisper his name. He hummed so you knew it was him and not some random stranger standing over Bruce’s side of the bed. 

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” You lifted the blanket next to you, “Bruce told me you guys come here when you have nightmares. There's plenty of room over here for you.” Dick hesitated for a second before giving in. He needed sleep anyway. You weren’t when you said there was plenty of room, Dick had most of your half of the bed. Once he had settled on his side, facing away from you, he felt you pull the blanket over his shoulders. 

“Night Dick, sleep well.” For some reason, that was what did it. Once the tears started they didn’t stop. Silent sobs made him shudder and he felt one of your hands gently rubbing his back. “Oh Dick.” There was no pity in your tone and he found himself rolling over and curling into you. Your chin resting on his head while you rubbed his back. 

The next day, he followed you around like a puppy. Your side of the bed became his favorite when he had nightmares and it wasn’t long before he turned to you for general comfort over anything.

Jason met you at his grave. Neither of you exchanged words, but he caught something in your gaze he didn’t quite understand. He also wasn’t sure why you were at his grave either, he didn’t know you when he was younger. 

When he saw the Gotham News post about Bruce and Your 2nd anniversary, it brought more questions than answers. Why were you at his grave alone? Let alone longer than a few seconds. It was an odd way to gain more of Bruce’s affections. 

Every Tuesday you would be there, leaving flowers and talking softly to the stone. Every time you left, you would smile and nod, the look in your eyes he couldn’t figure out was still there. Every time he would strain to heat what you were saying and only be able yo a few words here and there. 

6 months into it, the routine changed. You brought a blanket and Basket with your usual flowers. You did what you normally did with the flowers but instead of talking to the stone you waved him over. When he didn’t move, you stopped what you were doing and looked at him. 

“Jason Todd, I have been keeping your secret for 6 months. Helping me spread this blanket and having lunch won’t change it.” He stared at you while you waited expectantly. Eventually when he could get himself to move, he came over and helped. He sat down where you motioned for him too, all while trying to figure out how you knew.

“Bruce mentioned this used to be your favorite when you were younger so I asked Alfred to teach me how to make it. I hope it's up to your standards.” He looked at the plate of food you handed him. It was almost overflowing with food, all of which reminded him of the good times back at the manor before he died. “Alfred also sent your favorite cookies when he heard I would be eating at your grave.” The bag of cookies was placed next to the basket, within easy reach.

“Why?” Was all Jason managed to choke out around the lump in his throat.

“I decided early on in life, no matter who I was with, I would love their family as my own. My grandfather hated my grandmothers side and it caused a lot of pain in all the generations. I decided I would never do that to another family.” Jason found himself back in control enough to start eating. 

“So when I started dating Bruce and he told me about you, I decided to treat you like you were my own. Even though I had never met you and you were dead. Most of what that meant was keeping your grave clean and always making sure there were fresh flowers. While I did that, I would tell you everything that was going on.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your eyes, they may be a different color but they looked too similar. So I did a little digging and found pictures of your biological pictures to place the face shape it matched. I think however you look more like Bruce then either of them.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“As much as I would love to. It’s your choice. You’ve been keeping this to yourself for a reason. If I can help you get to a place to tell them, I would love to. But I won’t say a word until you're ready. However, I would like to keep having lunch with you.” 

A year later, Jason reintroduced himself to the rest of the family a lot calmer than originally planned and was glued to your side anytime he felt overwhelmed that night. Every Tuesday after that, lunch was scheduled.

Tim was nervous when it came to you. He was still living in the manor so he saw you more than the older two. You always seemed nice and respected his privacy but Bruce was always with you so you obviously would. 

It was when he wasn’t around that worried Tim. Bruce attracted golddiggers and they were always mean when Bruce wasn’t there. When you were given a copy of the key, Time braced himself. 

Of course he knew that if he told Bruce anything that happened like that, Bruce would break it off. He had always told them that they came first. But he also knew that Bruce liked you a lot. All the other ones Bruce liked a lot that turned out to be horrible, he broked it off. Tim had seen how it had made him upset and he really hated doing that to him. Maybe he could deal with it for once. 

So when Bruce left for a business trip, Tim was Expecting the worst. What he didn’t expect was for you to knock on his door and ask if you could join him. When he agreed and stepped back so you could come in. He expected you to go to his bed or his desk chair not, the oversized bean bag on the floor.

“I have a question for you but you can’t tell Bruce yet.” Here it comes. “What would a funny way to tell him I know he’s Batman?” Tim wasn’t expecting that one. “I was thinking a lot of batpuns but his paranoia is too bad for that.”

“How did you figure it out?” You walked him through your process and didn’t say anything as he wrote parts of it down. Once you finished explaining the process for Bruce, you explained any way it was modified in figuring out their identities.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Red Robin.” Tim found himself getting excited. 

“You know those notes you leave him in his office?” You nodded. “You should leave those in the Batcave.” You considered it but your thinking was interrupted but Tim shouting. 

“No! One night when we’re all in the cave, you could bring some snacks!” 

“You just want snacks when he’s lecturing you don’t you?”

“Maybe..”

“Alright, but you have to tell the others so they can tell me what snack they want.”

So Tim slowly and carefully went through all his siblings, letting them know you figured it out, Bruce didn’t know, and what the plan is. Every time he relayed a snack to you he’d watch how carefully you’d write it out to make sure you had it correct or look up recipes if you couldn’t find it in stores. 

Two weeks later, Tim was the one who sent the signal in the middle of a lecture everyone was receiving and he got a front row seat to see Bruce’s face when you walked in and handed out snacks before giving him a kiss and telling him to be nice and leaving. 

Any other worries were left in the dust when you helped him win the nerf war for the best seat in the home theater. He thoroughly enjoyed his spot next to you while Bruce swore revenge from the other side of the room.

Damian treated you politely but that was it. His mother was still alive and he didn’t want another one, one was more than enough. Not only that, but you were weird. 

One time when you were over, you found one of his report cards. Immediately you were praising him. He didn’t understand why, he had basically failed one of his classes with an A-. You should be disappointed like his mother would be, not hanging it up on the fridge and telling people not to touch it. Definitely not taking him out for ice cream and calling him so smart. He definitely shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he walked past it, but he still was. 

When he was practicing his violin and Messed up, you were supposed to tell him to stop failing, that he should be better. Not smiling at him and telling him he’s making good progress. You should be telling him that he should have memorized that piece in a day. He shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he finally does memorize it, it took him 4 days to learn it.

When he was struggling to learn a language, you were supposed to tell him to work harder. He could do better, after all, he already knew so many. Instead you just smiled and recommended a break to refresh his mind. 

When he snapped at you in Arabic, he expected you to be upset since you didn’t know what he said and it was obviously not something nice. Instead you set the rule that if he was going to use Arabic to speak to you when upset, that he had to teach it to you and if what he said wasn’t something you had learned yet, he had to tell you in english. When he told you what it meant, you didn’t even get upset. He definitely shouldn’t be as excited as he was when you actually started learning. 

So many more little things piled up, leaving Damian confused. The differences between how you and his mother treated him was so big he didn’t know how to process it, he liked you and all the little things made him happy in a way he hadn’t really felt. But he still loved his mom, When he had enough of it, he asked you to stop. He still wanted to love his mom. Once again, you did something you weren’t supposed to.

“Oh Damian, I’m not trying to replace your mom nor am I trying to make you feel like you can’t love her or she doesn’t love you. Your mom and I show our love in different ways and its ok for you to love or like both of us. You mother loves you and she will always be allowed in your life if thats what you want.” You weren’t supposed to do that, but Damian was really glad you did.

Barbara wasn’t sure how you would react to her. She wasn’t just Bruce’s kid. She had a loving family she went back to every night. Most people weren’t really a fan of that, one of Bruce’s past girlfriends had some strong and hurtful things to say about it. 

When you took her for a day out, she found herself warming up to you but still waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of the new places you had planned to go, didn’t have wheelchair access. Like all the other girlfriends who had done this, she expected you to be annoyed that your plans had to change or you would just leave her outside while you shopped. 

You didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, just looking at what was next on your list and starting the trip there. When Barbara stared a little longer at a new movie that was in theaters, tickets and snacks were bought and you listed to all the lore she told you about before it started.

While it had been a nice day, Barbara wasn’t convinced. One day was easy to fake. Sure she had lots of fun, but Barbara was used to fakes when it came to Bruce’s girlfriends. Of course she wasn’t complaining about you being nice, she just wasn’t sure how long it would last. 

“Did you hear about that boutique?” She looked up from her food to look at her dad. “That new one that you tried to go to with Bruce’s girlfriend? Well there was a report that it didn’t meet the Americans with Disabilities act and the boutique is in trouble. People are speculating they’ll have to close down.”

Later that night, Barbara looked into it. They were in trouble, pretty big trouble from the looks of it. Towards the end of the article she found the name of the person who reported it, she wasn’t sure who she was expecting. Not you for sure but the Name Y/n L/n took her by surprise and filled her chest with feelings she couldn’t describe. 

The boutique ended up closing but a new one opened. Once it was open, you were the first to ask her to go. That weird feeling came back when she wheeled herself up the ramp and through the door you held open for her. Later that night, in the privacy of her room. She decided she liked you. 

Steph seemed like she liked you, she acted like she liked you, she didn’t really like you. Sure you were nice, Bruce loved you, the others were warming up to you, but she wasn’t sure how to feel about you. So she stuck with not actually liking you but pretending to. 

So when she was around you, it was all smiles and jokes. She wasn’t a big fan of it all but she did it because she knew you were important to Bruce and that was enough of a reason for her. She knew Bruce and the others could see through the act but as long as you couldn’t, that was enough. 

When Bruce announced he had to leave for a business trip right before she could hand him the parents visit for one of her AP classes, something the new teacher liked doing. She tucked the paper away. When Tim gave her a questioning look, she shook her head and later swore him to silence. 

Every time she heard someone mention their parents were going, she felt a pang of jealousy in her chest. Every time Tim mentioned bringing it up to you, she swore him into silence again. It wouldn’t be the first time no one showed up for her. She was however thankful you wouldn’t be at the manor as much so she didn’t have to pretend to like you.

When the day arrived, Steph was not having a good day. School dragged on slowly. Slower than normal. When school finally ended, she had to sit in the classroom and watch everyone else that was in her class leave and the parents of her classmates show up while no one was there or coming for her.

Someone sat in the seat next to her, she expected another family member of one of her classmates. Definitely not you. She couldn’t return your smile, too unsure of how you found out, the fact you actually showed up, and how she felt about you being there. You leaned a little closer so that the others in the room wouldn’t easily overhear. 

“I know I’m not your parent and someone you just pretend to like so if you want me to leave I will. But I figured someone was better then no one. Oh, and Tim wanted me to tell you he didn’t spill. Your teacher called the manor because no one had RSVPed for you and I answered it.”

That night, as Steph showed off all her hard work to you, the charade fell. She actually enjoyed her time with you and the boost of pride as you oohed and ahhed over all her projects and listened to her explain all the little details. That night, Steph realized, she didn’t need to keep pretending. She liked you, until she found out you didn’t like her favorite show but a nerf war solved that. 

Cass could tell you were different then the other girlfriends, your body language as you interacted with all of them showed it. However that didn’t mean she knew how to interact with you.

She had learned that she was fairly hard for new people to interact with. She also knew she had trouble interacting with people she wasn’t fighting. So it wasn’t a surprise when it started rocky. 

What was a surprise, was when you found out she was still having trouble reading and writing, you stepped in to help. Well, that wasn’t the surprising part, a lot of girlfriends did that. The surprising part was the amount of patience you had when it was only the two of you. 

When one method didn’t help, you tried another. Never once did you snap at her or call her a name. Everytime you got frustrated you would stop and look at her, say something along the lines of “If I had as much trouble with this as you do, I wouldn’t want to keep trying. You're doing absolutely amazing! I’ll keep looking for other ideas, but for now, lets take a break and get a treat.” 

Cass wasn’t sure why that always made her feel better, but it did. Every treat you brought was something you made just for the tutoring sessions and it always reminded her of what Alfred had told her once. “Something made with love for you will always taste better.”

And when a method that made it a little easier to learn was found, Cass found herself smiling along with your cheers. Bad days where she couldn’t seem to make any progress were always met with the same excitement, cheers, patience, and treats that all the others were. 

Cass still wasn’t sure of what to think of you exactly, but she knew she liked you and that you cared about her.

So when Tim saw the new rise in hate, a sibling meeting was called. They all went through each site, blood boiling as they saw what people were saying about their new parent. Plans were made, declarations of war were ready, and anger fueled all of them. Bruce could tell something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what it was and as long as it didn’t get out of had, he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to deal with it. 

War was declared in an interview by Steph. The lady was asking questions when the topic switched to Bruce, then you. The reporter was clearly trying to subtly find some dirt on you and Steph was not going to stand for it.

“Oh yeah! Y/n! She’s the best!” She put on her best press face. Trying to hide her anger over the hidden intent. She didn’t have to lie or act when talking about you but the change in the lady’s face going to disappointment when she didn’t get anything she wanted was making her look very punchable. 

“She’s always showing up for us and making sure we’re doing ok. If Y/n and Bruce were to break up, I think most of us would go with Y/n.” The way the lady kept trying to get anything really got on her nerves and Steph decided she needed to get out of there before she started using the lady’s face for target practice. You wouldn’t like that.

Cass was the first one to resort to violence. They had asked a thinly veiled question, basically asking if you were a golddigger. So she punched him in the nose and leaned down to flip the camera off. She hated interviews already but that made it so much worse. She hoped you wouldn’t be too upset with her punching the guy though.

Jason, surprisingly enough. Did not get violent… physically. He did however curse one out and threaten him when the reporter implied you were forcing them to say nice things. When the reporter kept pressing Jason broke his mic and told him if he ever heard him talking bad about you again, a broken mic would be the last of his worries. Jason knew you would be disappointed but he had held back, he didn’t shoot the guy like he wanted.

Tim threw his coffee at one reporter because he heard them say you were nothing but a regular person who didn’t deserve any attention. He then took over her segment, threatening the company to air it or he would make sure they went bankrupt. Once he finished his threats, anything he said was praising you name. Telling everyone how amazing you were and how much they all loved you.

Barbara made it a point to bring up everything you did for the community when they tried to throw some shade at you in an interview. She had documents to prove it and hacked their systems to add them into the interview so they couldn’t claim it was fake. She also made sure to run over his foot when she left. 

Dick punched a reporter when they tried to ask him what you were really like behind closed doors. He told them the truth, that you were just as good, kind, patient, and loving behind closed doors as you were out in public. He didn’t throw a punch until the reporter disregarded that as asked again because she couldn’t be that good. Dick knew a lecture would be coming once you saw, but he would rather sit through a lecture then let anyone tarnish your name.

Damian spent 10 minutes cursing and threatening a reporter in Arabic when they asked him if you had ever hurt him. When he was done, he told them in english, that if he ever got asked that question again, he would impale them. He knew you were going to make him sit down and translate everything and the general response you would give but he didn’t care, no one speaks bad about either of his mothers.

Bruce figured out what was going on after Steph’s interview. He saw the ones where they assaulted or threatened the reporters and made sure his lawyers were on standby to keep the kids out of trouble. After all, he had seen more than they had. 

He had watched as you tried to connect with Dick early on, how you worked hard to try and get somewhere. He had woken up before you when Dick had come in that night and heard how you handled it. He had woken up the next morning to find you holding Dick close, like you were trying to protect him from the nightmares. He had seen how you never turned Dick down when he wanted comfort, no matter how serious or silly the matter, and he had heard your excitement when you told him Dick liked you.

Bruce had seen the way you never missed a visit to Jason’s grave, on a visit of his own, he saw how much care you showed the stone marking it as his lost son. While he hadn’t been sure why it was alway the same time on Tuesday, he didn;t mention it. He felt the way you would sob in his arms after each visit, a year after the tradition started, you always said you had promised not to tell and he watched as you kept that promise even if it tore you to pieces. Once the shock and tears wore off for a little bit, he could see the trust that Jason had in you.

He heard the way you questioned if you should have a key to the manor, you didn’t want to make Tim uncomfortable in his own home, or how you questioned if you should visit while he was gone. Not wanting to stress Tim out when there was no reason too. He saw the way you and Tim grinned at each other when you brought snacks down for all the kids he was currently lecturing. He head the excitement in your voice as you told him about the tour Tim had given you of the Batcave and the shared laughter as you and Tim worked together to win the nerf war.

Bruce saw how you worked to give Damian the affection he didn’t think he needed. He felt you crying in his arms upset over the fact Damian thought you would be angry because he made a mistake or struggled in a class. He heard you practicing your Arabic as you got ready for bed and he watched as you stress paced over whether or not you said the right thing to him about his mother. 

He saw how angry you had been when you came back from your day out with Barbara. He had heard your call with your lawyer as you tried to figure out what to do. He saw you going through the laws and making a list to make sure your lawyer didn’t miss any. He heard about the movie you didn’t particularly care about and the lore you remembered in case of another because you wanted Barbara to have someone she could tell all of her favorite things too. 

Bruce saw the pictures you had taken from the school night. He heard all the details from you as you praised Steph’s work. He saw the way Steph stopped acting around you and the silly arguments the two of you would get into for fun. He heard the way you would listen to her as she verbally worked out her problems. He saw the way Steph looked for you in a crowd, the way she knew you were there but not where you stood exactly, the thought of you not being there never crossed her. 

He saw the way you stayed up late, researching different ways to teach reading and writing. He heard the patience and kindness and you worked with Cass. He saw the way you always made a treat just for Cass to have after each lesson because you wanted to reward her hard work. He heard the way you cried for Cass when she had a bad day and got frustrated with herself because you knew she was smart and you wanted her to see it too. He heard your celebrations when Cass made any progress, no matter the size. 

Bruce heard, saw, and felt the way you worked hard to have a relationship with his kids. How you had mourned for their losses, celebrated their wins, and felt their pain. He saw the way his kids blossomed under your care, growing to be better and more confident in themselves. The way you cared for them as if they were your own flesh and blood. So when he was asked about his kids behavior, he said as much. 

“Y/n has worked hard to be accepted by them. She’s given so much of her time, effort, patience, and love and never wanted anything in return. She always shows up for them, no matter what the occasion is, big or small, it doesn’t matter. If they want her there, she’ll be there. Everytime they need or want her, she’s there. She never judges them and treats them as if they were her own blood. Of course their upset and lashing out, people are insulting the woman who has cared for them more then most of their biological mothers.”

Later, a clip of you scolding Bruce and all the kids went viral. While you were scolding them over their behavior and making the kids who had reacted with violence or threats write apology letters because asking mean questions does not make it right to respond badly especially when its someone just trying to start drama. Everyone one noticed that there was no actual bite to your tone and no anger when they all refused to stop acting like that. In fact, there was a small soft smile on your face as you shook your head at your family.