#(and a lot of my new friends have told me that A: my pronunciation is actually really good

[lacomandante]

HELLO i'm alive, I just barely survived 9 days in Girona doing costumes for Assumpta's short film reels.....and immediately after we came back I had to do some frantic sewing in time for the week of events planned for the Dos de Mayo. I met up with some new friends I had met at the Museo de Traje two weeks or so earlier, and my Spanish has improved SO MUCH during my time here. I am so happy and having SO much fun. I based this spencer off of one Assumpta wears in Rossini, Rossini!, and had two days to make it. I did my hair how Teresa's looks in a snood in Company, but made a madroñera instead- it's a little lower class than Teresa would've worn, I think, but it was appropriate. (I want to make all of the costumes Assumpta wears in her films and make a pre-war Teresa wardrobe, though I'll be remaking this red spencer!) Over the course of the week we walked through many parks, got to see the changing of the guard, we went to many palaces, and I got to participate in the Dos de Mayo parade and battle, which was insanely cool, and where the first two photos are taken! I also got to go to a wonderful ball and danced with all my friends, which I'll post photos of soon. Now that the events are over, I'm rereading Sharpe's Command bc I have my review in my drafts and want to revisit it.

[anxhelstudies]

110924

it’s been a while but i went in albania for 2,5 weeks, went to 2 weddings, go out with my friends since one of them was going back to ireland and i am going to london in 2 days.

so the rankings for the uni i applied got released (idk if it’s the correct therm for this but idc) and surprise!! i didn’t get in… so anyway i’m going to london as a consolation prize! i’m really excited and grateful for this opportunity because it’s all thanks to my aunt who invited me (and my mother who is supporting me since she doesn’t want me to give her back the money she gave me in advance for milan). i hope i will take the most from this opportunity, i’m going to the london design festival and have some days to visit the tourist spots while sending cv and portfolio hoping to do some networking and have some job interview (crossing my fingers). all of this because i applied for the passport in time!! and it’s my first time having a strong passport, i could go to a lot of countries and not worrying for a visa meanwhile in high school i was known in my class and an other class to be the girl who always has problems in international school trips because of my nationality.

anyway i decided to do the #100daysofproductivity challenge starting today, hoping i can finish it. so today i did some laundry and took my first chinese lesson with a tutor! i was a little anxious since i always studied alone but i went well. the teacher is very nice and i really liked her and the price per hour is good so i think i will be able to have 1h lesson a week. since i told her i already self studied something this first lesson was more of a recap this way she could understand my level and adjust the next lessons accordingly. we decided together the book that we were going to use and after that we started with reading pinying, i was really nervous because i never read in in chinese with someone listening but in the end my reading/pronunciation skills were actually good for someone who self studied and i didn’t make the errors some of her students at hsk4 level makes so she was happy and told me to practice more the fourth tone and the pronunciation of p and b because i make some mistakes there but it’s not a big deal since this are the same problem for italian so i just have to practice more. other than that she made me read some words and ask some question about words and radicals to see my situation. At the end she asked me to take a look at the textbook see what i know and don’t know and the text her to let her know what i wanted for next lesson: continue with the review or start something new. Next lesson will probably be a review for the things that i had difficulties studying alone and the few things in the firsts chapters i didn’t do. overall i really liked studying with a tutor, since it’s one on one the focus is all on me and it’s really good to have someone to tell u what u need to practice more. i can totally see the benefits of this and for me its money spent wisely and will be a really good investment for my future.

anyway if u have some good spot to visit or try in london leave it in the comments (especially for asian skincare and makeup and stationary!)

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Normally, my meta is pretty focused on what happens in the story, and I bring things from reality to use when it’s useful. But I like pulling stories apart to talk about how the story works, and stories only exist with a thin tether to reality most of the time, and they have wildly different rules.

This one is a little different. This one is going to have a lot of outside information brought to bear to discuss Sherliam’s relationship, but they’re things I think are relevant: A Japanese word and its origins, how creating art and stories works, what being an artist is…and how that all impacts William and Sherlock, how they relate to each other as creations of artists and artists themselves.

Basically, stuff about how art is made and the context it lives in. I think that's more useful than comparing it to reality. It’ll be interesting, I promise! Just a little different than usual.

Let’s start here. I think you’ll see where I’m going with the Sherliam thing pretty quickly, but if not, don’t worry. I’m going to explain.

I saw this post on Bluesky during aro week, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot since.

Basically, there’s a word in Chinese, that has actually carried over to Japanese (I’ll get to that in a minute) that means, basically, “person who truly understands your songs.” It’s based off this story of this musician would make instrumental music, as one does, and this person who understood immediately, without being told, what the song was about. And this relationship was so deeply important and meaningful that after the second person died, the first destroyed his instrument, because there seemed to be no point in continuing to create music without the person who got it.

Yes, I know, you’re all seeing the Sherliam parallels already, but give me a bit longer before we get there.

This word carried over to Japanese with a slightly different pronunciation (as happens), but the same kanji and the same meaning. My Japanese-English dictionary defines it solely as “an exceptionally close friend.” No other options are provided. So I looked it up in some Japanese dictionaries! They both started with the same origin story of the word, and then both came up with a handful of definitions: Dear friend, person who understands your heart, partner, comrade, eventually it got down to sweetheart, someone you can rely on. My favorite was “Peerless/unmatched friend.”

The word does seem to be fairly formal and archaic and mostly relegated to Literature™ and classic works. It’s not a word that’s canonically ever applied to Sherlock or William.

And yet. And yet.

I don’t know how common the word is in Japanese that they’d recognize or know it. Whether or not it actually influenced the story from background knowledge, intentionally or not. But knowing the concept now, and knowing the concept has existed in Japanese culture as…as an option does change how I think of some of the media I’ve seen before. The word notwithstanding, the concept exists.

As an artist myself, I deeply understand the need/desire/hope/longing/etc. for a person who just. Gets what you’re trying to do. The person who deeply understands what you’re doing and your intentions and the way you expressed yourself. Who understands you via your creations.

I am, as many of you know, looking for a new critique partner right now. I have one, but I need one or two others for Reasons. And one of them already turned up a dud because this person’s feedback had nothing to do with what I want the story to be or what I’m trying to write. It’s a lot of marketing advice. Advice on how to make the story more what they would want, or more like other books.

A good CP needs to see what the intention of the story is, so they can make that story stronger and help that story make that point to more people. They have to understand your art. Not to the degree of a 知音, but nonetheless.

Sherlock and William are, obviously, on the level of understanding each other this way. They just get each other, without explanation, and they both treasure that relationship dearly. So dearly that Sherlock, when faced with the prospect of losing the person who truly got him, would have rather died with him then survive without that connection.

Because what was the point of doing things, of making things, of being, without that person who got it. How to bear living once you’ve finally found that person?

And I think this kind of gets to what Louis was seeing in Sherlock and hoping he would do to validate William’s existence. Sherlock got William. He saw his intentions through his plans, and saw who he was and what his soul was even under all the masks and walls and machinations. He understood why William would want to die, and that he was actually trying to die intentionally almost immediately.

And because Sherlock actually understood William’s existence, he could actually validate William’s existence. The same way someone has to understand what my book’s story is trying to be to actually help it. The same way someone actually understanding what the fuck I was trying to write makes me feel…well, like writing and sharing it with people is actually worth it, because I can do this.

And, because Sherlock understood William’s intentions and plans, he made changes to the story William planned, because he saw the weaknesses from a distance, saw the intentions without drowning himself in what was already there the way William the Author did. Because he saw the intentions, but also the actual effects.

And William’s plan came out stronger and more effective and more beautiful for it all. Because Sherlock was there to see it, to understand it, and to help.

After all, Sherlock is an artist, too, even if we only see him with his violin on occasion. He knows what it’s like. And he knows William helped give him a stage to show off what Sherlock wanted to share with the world, too (forensics, etc.).

And I think it’s interesting, after all that, to remember that Yuukoku no Moriarty is created by not one artist, but two. Did they understand each other’s intentions the way William and Sherlock understand each other? Almost certainly not, especially given that we lost one of them from the series. But they had to work together, to understand each other’s intentions and art, in order to work together and create the story. To fill in where the other fell short, to give feedback and strengthen the story together.

We don’t know much at all about their working relationship or how the series came to be from the two of them. It’s really impossible to speculate if they felt in sync or they wished they were working with someone who Got Them better. But I think either way, Sherlock and William’s working together to create a story that was stronger, fuller, and better than either could have come up with alone is an interesting reflection of their story’s two creators anyway.

[harley-sunday]

August Rush [10]

Summary: You’ve known Carlos for almost as long as you have been working in Formula One but you never expected it would take you seven years and a concussion to realise that maybe you like him as more than just a friend.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz jr x reader (OFC nicknamed Pip) | Max Verstappen x reader (best friends)

Warnings: Language. Slightly NSFW. 

Word count: 6.9k.

AN: This is it, babes. The final part of this wild ride we all went on almost a year ago. I’m gonna miss writing for these two but I think the story I wanted to tell got told and it’s time for them to have their happy ending. I couldn’t have done this without my Devious Friend™, my editor-in-chief, and my greatest support. eL, this one’s for you, babe ♥ And for all of you - I meant what I said last time, please feel free to come yell at me in the comments. I would love to hear what you think!

Masterlist

Despite the weather forecast predicting nothing but rain this race weekend, it’s actually quite nice when you make it to Spa on Wednesday and so you’re enjoying a walk through the paddock in your Alpha Tauri-issued team polo with your sunglasses on and an iced coffee in your hand. Something about the calm before the storm, you think idly. 

Spa is- It’s hectic. It’s the first race after the summer break and so there’s always a lot to catch up on, the last remnants of silly season still echoing through the paddock and some of the announced driver changes for next year raising a few eyebrows here and there. Like you expected, the news that your team has chosen to focus on the development of next year’s car has been met with very few questions and so, except for a press conference that isn't scheduled until tomorrow morning, there isn’t much for you to do except catch up with the other press officers and a few of your driver friends.

First stop is the Red Bull garage, where you find Max joking around with some of his pit crew, comparing tans and exchanging stories about their summer holidays. His smile grows even wider when he spots you and he gives you a quick wave, motioning for you to come over, “Hello.” 

You step into his outstretched arms without a moment’s thought, “God, I’ve missed you, Maxy.”

He hugs you closer, “How are you?”

“Good,” you tell him, before you let go and take a step back. “I just wanted to hear if we’re still on for dinner with your mom tonight?”

“She’s been talking about nothing else ever since she got here,” Max chuckles. “I think we’re staying in the same hotel, right?” He waits for you to nod before he continues, “Ok, so why don’t we meet in the lobby at seven and I’ll ask mum to meet us there? I think she wants to go to that restaurant we went to last year also.”

“With that housemade ‘Stoofvlees’,” you try, no doubt butchering the pronunciation. Your mouth starts to water just thinking about the dish, a beef and onion stew that Sophie convinced you to try last year and that you have thought about ever since. 

Max laughs, “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Perfect,” you agree with a nod as you start to walk backwards towards the pitlane, “I’ll see you at seven then.”

***

“Oh my God,” you roll your eyes and lean back in your chair, savouring the taste of your final bite. Holding your hand in front of your mouth then, because you still have some manners left, “That was so good!”

Sophie and Max share a look before they both let out a laugh and Max continues telling you about his holiday in Brazil, after you’ve already told them a little about your time in Mallorca, leaving out a few choice details of course.

Dinner with Sophie and Max is nice, it always is. You don’t get to see Sophie that often and when you do it’s usually just a quick hello in the paddock after quali or before the race and so to be able to sit down with her and Max and have a couple of hours to catch up is a small treat in and of itself. 

When Max excuses himself to go to the bathroom, Sophie leans forwards and waits until he’s out of earshot before she softly says, “There’s something different about you, Pip.” 

You smile and look down, trying to avoid her curious gaze because you know if she looks at you long enough you’ll just spill everything. Instead you trace the rim of your water glass with your fingers and shrug, “I’m just really in a good place, I guess. Work is going well and-”

“Hmm,” Sophie agrees half-heartedly, seeing right through your act. “It’s ok if you don’t want to tell me yet, sweetheart. I know how exciting it can be to keep something to yourself for a while.”

“Yeah,” you nod and look up at her, smiling almost apologetically, “I think I should tell Max first-” 

She reaches over the table and puts her hand on yours, “Whatever it is or-” she smiles, “Whoever it is, I’m sure Max will be fine.” 

“I know. It’s just-” you take a deep breath.

“He cares about you so much,” Sophie looks up then and when you follow her eyes you see Max making his way back to the table. She leans in closer, squeezes your hand and whispers, “He’ll be fine.” 

***

During the drivers’ interviews on Thursday, pairing Pierre with Mick and Yuki with Fernando, you stay in the media room for all ten interviews like you always do, smiling when you see Carlos and Daniel walk on stage. 

You’re all the way in the back of the room but still Carlos’ eyes find yours and the smile he sends you makes the heat rise to your cheeks. Daniel is too busy cracking jokes with one of the journalist to notice anything but then Carlos gets asked what he did over his summer holidays, which he answers with a very vague, “Not much, I enjoyed having some time off while also making sure I kept up with the training schedule,”, and all of a sudden Daniel’s all over him with cheeky grins and cheesy winks that are meant to let everyone know that, as far as Daniel’s concerned, Carlos is not telling the full story.

For a moment you’re worried Daniel knows- Something, but- He couldn’t, can’t he? Still, you clear your throat loud enough to catch Daniel’s attention and when his eyes land on you, you tell him to cut it out with a miniscule shake of your head. 

He furrows his brows and you know he’ll give you shit for it later, but for now you’ve averted the crisis because the next journalist is already asking Carlos what he thinks of the weather forecast for this weekend and if he’s worried about the race being delayed.

***

“What was that all about, babe?”

You startle a little when Daniel’s warm breath hits your neck and so you curse quietly, which in turn makes him laugh, turning a few heads in your direction. You try to smile apologetically, knowing it’s best not to have the pinnacle of F1 journalism on your bad side.

“Bad conscience, huh?” He pinches your side and puts his mouth even closer to your ear, “So come on, spill the tea, what were you and Sainz up to this summer?”

“Nothing,” you whisper in his direction. “I just didn’t think it would be good for either team if they found out during a press conference that an Alpha Tauri employee spent their summer at a Ferrari driver’s house. There’s a time and place for that, Dan.”

Daniel sucks some air between his teeth, “Yeah, that could get nasty real’ quick, huh?” He slings his arm around your shoulder then and holds up his other hand, extending his pinky to you, “Pinky promise nothing happened?”

You don’t hesitate and hook your finger behind his, “Pinky promise.”

“Good,” he says and oddly enough it sounds as if he believes you because he nods to the podium then, “Let’s hear what these two have to say for themselves then, babe.”

You follow his eyes towards the podium, where Max and Charles are answering some rather boring answers about strategy and their expectations for this weekend.

***

Carlos finds you in the Alpha Tauri hospitality early on Friday morning, the paddock still relatively quiet and not too many other drivers yet around. It’s been your race week ritual ever since he moved from Toro Rosso to Renault and so you were already waiting with an espresso for him and a cappuccino for you. It’s weird, having to act as if you’re still just friends because God, you really want to kiss him. To distract yourself you keep playing with the charm on your bracelet.

He notices, of course he does, and says, with one raised eyebrow and a rather mischievous grin, “If you would just tell him we could- You know-”

“Carlos-” You add a dramatic sigh for full effect. “Later. Ok?”

“Later today, or-” Carlos lets out a laugh when you throw him a look, “What? I need to know how to plan my day, cariño. Can I kiss you? Can I not ki-”

“Carlos!” You put your hand over his mouth and look around rather panicked, hoping nobody has heard him. It doesn’t seem anyone did, “You are a menace, you know that.”

Carlos wiggles his eyebrows and nips at the palm of your hand.

“Oh Jesus Christ.” You let out a sigh and pull back your hand, “I will tell him after the race, ok? I promise.”

He pouts. Of course he does. 

You shake your head but can’t help but laugh, “Two more days, babe. You’ll manage.”

“Babe?”

Shit. You turn around and try your best to act cool, “Hi Lando.”

Lando seems unimpressed and points at Carlos, “What are you calling him ‘babe’ for?”

“She’s angry,” Carlos says before you even have the chance to come up with an excuse. When Lando looks between you and Carlos and back, looking more confused than ever, Carlos leans in and whispers, “Did you never notice she calls people ‘babe’ whenever she tries to get her point across even though she knows you’re not gonna listen?”

And, oh damn if that isn’t the truth. You just never knew he picked up on that.

Landos squints at you but doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and just as you’re convinced he’s not buying it he starts nodding enthusiastically, “She does!”

“Lando!” You playfully smack his chest, “You’re supposed to disagree, babe.”

Lando’s eyes widen and then he lets out a cackle, “You’re literally doing it right now.”

You can’t help but laugh but throw Carlos a quick wink when Lando isn’t looking and mouth a quiet, “Nice save.”

***

While the first free practice is rather uneventful, FP2 has Max losing control of the rear of his car and spinning out at Malmedy, hitting the wall. Despite that he still manages to set the fastest time and so you’re not too worried about him or the car, although you still send him a text to make sure he’s ok. 

It’s nearing the end of the day and so you’re busy  gathering your things when you hear your name being called from outside the garage. When you look up and see your best friend standing there, waving enthusiastically, you can’t help but run over to her and throw yourself at her for a hug, “Hi friend!”

“Hi babe,” she hugs you closer. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too,” you admit easily enough. 

She lets go then and puts her hands on your arms, “Now tell me, how are things with that boy toy of yours? I want to know everything.”

“Flo,” you warn through gritted teeth, a quick look around to make sure Pierre isn’t within earshot, “not here.”

“Fine,” she huffs. “During dinner then.” She looks at you expectantly, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, let me just grab my things-” you say and nod towards your bag and jacket. “I do want to get changed first though, so we’re stopping at my hotel first, ok?”

“Ok,” she echoes, the word dramatically drawn out, “but you're driving.” 

***

“So yeah, friends with benefits,” you conclude your story of your time with Carlos. 

Flo eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t say anything.

“We’re just having fun-” you try again but it sounds rather unconvincing and you hope she’s not going to push it. You feel terrible lying to your best friend but you really want to tell Max first and so you add with a cheek grin, “-and great sex, so win-win.”

“Hmm,” she hums, leaning back in her chair, a glass of wine dangling between her fingers. “There’s something you’re not telling me, though.” A wicked grin then, “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”

“Counting on it,” you challenge her, holding up your glass. “Cheers, babe.” 

***

Saturday has a change of weather and all of a sudden you find yourself waiting in the garage, the first qualifying session delayed by fifteen minutes because of the rain that’s absolutely pouring down. You’re not really needed for qualifying but you like to show your support to both Yuki and Pierre and so you tend to hang around anyway.

When it’s finally time to get started, you find your way to the TV screens lining the wall and watch the first round of quali unfold with Pyry, Pierre’s trainer, standing next to you, absolutely towering over you. Flo is standing on Pyry’s other side, nervously chewing on the cuticle of her thumb as her eyes are glued on the screen. You know Spa holds some horrendous memories for her and that she’s not just watching Pierre but Charles as well and so you stand next to her and take her free hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Together you see Yuki getting eliminated after the first stint and Carlos and Charles stranding in Q2, while Pierre and Max advance to Q3, where a crash from Lando brings out the red flags after only a few minutes of racing, which means Max takes pole and Pierre starts sixth on the grid tomorrow. 

***

You’re in the media pen with Pierre once qualifying is over and zone out a little when he’s answering questions from Ziggo Sports because their reporter Jack has a very roundabout way of asking something that’s always rather simple. You can’t wait to get out of this cold and so you’re sort of daydreaming about the hot shower waiting for you in your hotel room. It’s then you see Carlos walking over to Sky Sports who are lined up next to where you’re standing and you can feel your heart skip a beat because God, he looks good. 

He catches you looking and throws you a wink, taking off his cap and running a hand through his hair, knowing exactly what it does to you.

You quickly avert your eyes and try to focus on Jack’s next question but it turns out the interview is over and thus so are Pierre’s media duties. You walk back to the garage together in silence, both of you lost in thought. Before he disappears into his driver's room to get changed, you remind him there’s a scheduled post going up on his Instagram in an hour or so and then  continue on towards the Alpha Tauri offices to collect your bag so you can head out and call it a day. 

You’re in a relatively quiet part of the paddock when you feel someone walking up behind you and before you can even turn around there are two hands on your hips, gently pushing you into a dark corner in between the Alpha Tauri and Ferrari garages. You gasp, ready to punch whoever has grabbed you but then you hear a low chuckle that you’d recognize anywhere and so instead you turn around and gently slap his chest, whispering a berating, “Carlos!”

“What?” He tries to act all innocent while grinning wickedly, “There’s no one around, cariño. And I really, really want to kiss you. If I have to wait until Sunday evening I won’t survive.”

You let out a giggle, hiding your face against his chest, “You’re so dramatic.”

“It’s why you love me,” he counters almost instantly. “Let me kiss you?”

“We can’t-” you try but you know it’s a losing battle when he puts his fingers under your chin and tilts your head back, making you look up at him. 

He licks his lips and lets his eyes fall to your mouth, “Please?”

You don’t say anything but instead push yourself up, brushing your lips against his, letting out a tiny whimper when he kisses back, hard. Soon enough you feel yourself getting lost in the kiss, your hands sneaking into his hair, wishing you could stop time for just five minutes or so. 

Carlos has just slipped his tongue inside your mouth, making you moan a little, when you hear a manic laugh coming from somewhere close by.

Both you and Carlos pull back at the same time and you hold onto his arms as you look around him, trying to find the culprit. Maybe it’s not that bad. Maybe they were laughing at something else. Maybe it’s-

It’s Pierre.

Oh shit.

You curse quietly and step to the side, rounding Carlos, arms outstretched to your driver as if any sudden movements will set something in motion you’re not ready to deal with yet. 

Pierre shakes his head, still laughing, and holds up his phone, snapping a picture, “C’est chaud ça, hein?”

“Pierre Jean-Jacques Gasly,” you warn him, using your best mom-voice as you slowly walk towards him, “don’t you dare. Delete that.” Dropping your voice then, hoping it will get your point across, “Now.”

It’s no use, his fingers are already hovering over the screen, his lips curled up in a manic grin, “Oh, this is so good-” 

“What are you doing?” Your voice is a little high-pitched but Jesus, if he puts any of this on Instagram-

It’s then he looks up and when he sees how close you are he tries to act very innocent all of a sudden, dropping his smile and shrugging, “Nothing.” 

You take a deep breath, trying your hardest not to panic, “Give me your phone.”

“What? No.” Pierre takes a step back and hides his phone behind his back.

“Cabrón,” Carlos says from over your shoulder, his voice low and a warning there that makes a shiver run down your spine. “Give her your phone.”

“I didn’t do anything stupid, ok? I just wanted proof. So I can collect my winnings-” He seems to realise his mistake the moment the words leave his mouth and he tries to cover it up by adding, “It’s not online, I swear.”

You look at him in shock, starting to connect dots you’re not sure you want to connect, “Winnings? What? Do you have a bet going on or-?” It’s then you remember your call with Flo, where she told you to figure things out before Spa and- You can’t believe Pierre and Flo would actually bet on you getting together with Carlos. Then again- You shake your head, figure you can worry about that later. Your first priority is getting Pierre’s phone and if he wants to piss you off some more by not giving it to you, fine. You’ll go get it yourself.

Out of nowhere you lunge forward, pushing Pierre against the back of the Ferrari garage and distracting him with a well aimed flick to his cheek-

“Oi!”

-and reach behind him, taking the phone and running back to hide behind Carlos. Pierre’s phone is locked but of course you know the code and so you pull up his last used app, a little surprised to see it’s Whatsapp, and open the most recent message thread, which is a group chat called “Chili and Pip 2021” and for a brief moment you wonder how many previous group chats there have been that they had to add a year to the name. You file that away for later because there are too many contacts in the group for it to just be him and Flo. Jesus. 

The last message Pierre sent in the chat is the picture he took, showing Carlos’ back and you behind him, looking absolutely livid. The message he attached a very eloquent, ‘Busted!’

“I can explain-” Pierre tries, and at least now he has the decency to look a little guilty. 

“I want you-” you point his phone at him, “-Flo, and everyone else in this fuckin’ group chat in my office in ten minutes,” you tell him through gritted teeth, stepping in front of Carlos then to make your point. “And I’m keeping your phone so you can’t pull any more bullshit, Gasly.”

“But-”

“Nine minutes and forty seconds,” you warn him, turning on your heels then and hold out your hand, waiting until Carlos takes it before you tug him towards the Alpha Tauri building.

When you reach your office, you can’t help but laugh, “Oh, this is going to be fuckin’ awesome.”

Carlos seems confused.

You let go of his hand and lean against your desk, “I know this is not the reaction you expected but- Ok. So. Honestly? I’m actually not surprised they made a bet out of it, I mean- It’s- It’s what we do. When Charles and Flo first started to realise that maybe they liked each other as more than friends, Pierre and I bet on how long it would take him to make it Instagram official so- I won, by the way,” you add with a grin. You wave your hand around, “Not really the point. Anyway, the thing I’m most upset about is that I didn’t figure this out sooner-”

“Why?” He looks at you like he’s afraid you’ve lost your mind, which honestly, after the way you’ve been rambling, you can understand.

“So we could have messed up their wagers,” you explain. “We could have pretended to have gotten into a big fight or- I could have made up a boyfriend, you know? Just, mess with them a little.”

Carlos visibly relaxes and nods, admitting with a shy smile, “Pierre once bet me that Charles would cry during his first podium.” He shrugs and his smile grows wider then, “He lost.”

You can’t help but laugh, “I should have known this would happen. Ugh-” you let out a frustrated sigh but then clap your hands together, “Ok. Here’s what we’re going to do-”

***

“Everyone here?” You look at Pierre, who nods. You’re not convinced, “Where’s Max?”

“Max isn’t in on this-”

Oh, thank God.

“-he doesn’t know anything about this,” Daniel pipes up from where he’s leaning against the wall. “We know how protective he is of you and-"

“Ok. Thank you, Daniel.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing when you see Daniel shrink back against the wall like a naughty schoolboy who has been told off by the headmaster. You’re leaning against your desk, hands resting on the cool surface on either side of you, and look across the room. 

All the usual suspects are here; Pierre, Charles, Flo, Lando, Daniel- You’re a little surprised to see Yuki here but then again, are you really? You know from experience that Pierre can be quite persuasive and so he probably bullied the younger driver into taking part. No, the one that surprises you most is Rupert, Carlos’ personal trainer. When your eyes land on him you shake your head, hoping it conveys your disbelief, “Really Rupert?”

He laughs and shrugs, “I’ve been seeing you two-” he says with a nod towards Carlos, “- dance around each other since his first year in Formula One, darling. I’m honestly surprised it has taken you this long to figure it out.”

The rest of the drivers in the room nod in agreement. Flo even has the audacity to throw you a look that says ‘Told you so.’

“Anyway,” you continue, focusing on Pierre again. “Since you seem to be the ringleader, Gasly, please explain what’s going on here?”

“Well, I-” Pierre runs a hand through his hair and looks at Flo for backup. 

“No. nu-uh.” She shakes her head, “This was all you, Gas.” 

His eyes widen in shock at the betrayal by his friend, “Do I need to remind you about-”

“You do not,” Flo bites back. “We both know what happened that night.” As always, they only need half a word to have a full conversation. Flo crosses her arms in front of her chest then, “You’re the one who created the group chat, non?”

Next to her Lando and Yuki nod but then Pierre throws them a warning look and suddenly their shoes are much more interesting to look at. Lando, at least, has the decency to blush.

“I can’t believe you’re going to let me take the blame for this,” Pierre says under his breath before he turns back to you. “Fine. Ok. So-”

You hold up your hand to get him to stop talking and shake your head, “I don’t need all the details. Just tell me who got it right and how much they won.”

Pierre shrugs, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, “I did.” 

“Hey. No,” Yuki says then. “You said race day at Spa, Pierre. It’s not race day yet, is it?”

“Exactly,” Flo joins in. “So I won.” 

“No. No, no,” Lando jumps in and points at Flo, “You said before Spa. So technically you both got it wrong.”

You let out what you hope is a frustrated sigh, “Ok, so did no one get it right, or-” 

Charles shakes his head in reply, “No. But I think Pierre is the closest.”

“That doesn’t count though, does it?” Carlos says from where he’s standing next to you and when you risk a glance in his direction you can tell he’s trying his hardest not to laugh. 

“I guess not,” Charles agrees quietly, hanging his head.

“Ok, so then the money is ours,” you say with a shrug as if that settles it. “Perfect.”

A round of protests starts across the room, Pierre arguing that that’s not how it works, while Yuki suggests using the money for a new bet instead, and Lando saying that because you weren’t in on the bet you couldn’t possibly win.

From the corner of your eye you see Daniel push himself off the wall, drawing your attention with a quick wave, “Babe, it has been swell, but Michael’s waiting on me for some guided meditation or- Whatever. I gotta skedaddle out of here.” He reaches into the pocket of his jeans then and pulls out a folded fifty Euro bill, reaching over Yuki to hand it to you, “I’ll make sure Michael pays you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Michael’s in on this as well?” 

“Yep,” Daniel nods. “He had you down for Abu Dhabi, by the way-” he throws you a wink, “-So I’ll let him know he’s way off.” 

“Sure. Ok. Whatever,” you reply, not surprised. Daniel is just about to open the door when you call out to him, “Dan?” When he turns around you lock eyes with him, “Not a word about this to Max, ok?” You look at everyone in the room then, “I mean it, guys. He can’t hear this from you.”

A chorus of, “We know,” echoes across the room.

“Good.” A smile then, “Thank you.” 

“So,” Pierre starts hesitantly, testing the waters, “can we go now, or-”

“Well first of all, you are an idiot for thinking we would announce our relationship on race day.” You scoff, “Have I taught you nothing in our years of working together?”

Pierre hangs his head and repeats from memory, a mocking tone to his voice, “No important news during race weekends. We wait until we’re in between races before we put out personal news.”

“Exactly.” You push yourself off your desk then, “And second of all, it looks like you all owe me fifty Euros, suckers-” you hold out your hand and grin, “- so pay up.”

***

“I really should go see Max,” you tell Carlos once it’s just you and him, and an unexpected three hundred Euros in your back pocket. 

“Do you want me to come with you?”

You think about it for a second and then nod, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Ok,” Carlos presses a kiss to your temple. “Do you know where he is?”

“Probably still in the garage,” 

Carlos laughs, “Yes, I think that might be our best shot.” 

***

Sure enough you find Max in the back of the Red Bull garage, going over some data with GP. You walk up to him, Carlos waiting outside because even though they tolerate employees of the sister team in here, you’re not sure it would go over well if you invited one of Red Bull’s main competitors into the lion’s den.

“Max?” You smile as he looks up from the screen and nod towards the pit lane, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

He looks at GP, who nods, “Yeah, we are done here anyway.” Max follows you outside without asking questions and if he’s surprised to see Carlos standing there he doesn’t show it and instead looks at you expectantly, “What do you want to talk about?”

“So,” you draw out, hoping a few extra seconds will help you find the right words, “I have to tell you something. And I need you to not freak out-”

“I won’t-”

“You freak out, Max,” you tell him with a kind smile. “Remember when I told you I missed my flight from Amsterdam and caught a ride with that guy who was driving to Paris so I could take a train from there?”

“Yeah, but that was of course dangerous, Pip,” Max berates you, arms folded in front of his chest now. “He could have been a murderer, or-”

“Yeah, ok,” you hold up your hand to stop him. “This is not that, ok. I am not in danger, so-”

“I’m not going to freak out,” Max says with a heavy sigh, “but you are getting on my nerves. Just tell me what’s going on.”

You take a deep breath and risk one last glance at Carlos, who gives you an encouraging nod, that does nothing to calm your nerves, “CarlosandIareinarelationship,”

Max furrows his brows, “What?”

“Carlos and I,” you repeat, slower this time. “We’re together. In a relationship. It’s very serious, at least uh- For me it is. And I uh-” you know you’re rambling but you can’t seem to stop, “I think Carlos is serious about it as well. I mean, he gave me a bracelet so-”

“Pip,” Carlos puts his hand on your arm and shakes his head, a smile tugging on his lips, “stop.” 

You blow out a breath and look at Max, trying one last time, “Carlos and I are in a relationship.”

Max stays silent for a bit but then deadpans in that way only he can, “I of course know.”

“I-” you echo, confused. “You know?”

“Yes.”

“Ho- How?”

Then, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever, “I saw you kissing in the paddock earlier today.”

“Huh.” You look at Carlos, still panicking a little,  pointing from you to him and back, “He saw us kissing in the paddock.” 

“Seems like he did,” Carlos answers calmly as if somehow he knew Max knew all along. 

“Did you know he saw us, or-”

Carlos shakes his head, “I did not but-”

You turn back to Max, “And you’re ok with this?” You’re not sure why you’re trying to self sabotage here but the question comes out almost on its own.

“Of course,” Max looks from you to Carlos as if he’s confused why you’re even having this conversation. 

“Ok.” You nod, relieved, “Ok. Cool. Uhm-” you look at Carlos and shrug, “Well, I guess that’s that then.” 

“That doesn’t mean I won’t seriously hurt you if you ever hurt her,” Max says then, looking at Carlos with that determined look he gets whenever he tries to get his point across.

“I know, cabrón,” Carlos agrees easily enough. He claps Max on his back, “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

***

EPILOGUE

It’s after Abu Dhabi and its controversial last race, where Max beats Lewis on the last lap and thus wins the championship, after post-season testing, after a hug goodbye and a promise to stay in contact over the winter break to both Yuki and Pierre, and after a quick stop in Monaco where Max gets off his plane and wishes you safe travels, leaving you in the hands of his trusted cabin crew, that you find yourself on your way Mallorca once again. 

This time Carlos is waiting for you at the airport, standing a little to the side so as to not draw attention to himself, a black baseball cap drawn over his eyes, and his hands in the pockets of his jeans. You spot him before he sees you and you swear your heart skips a beat the moment he looks up and you lock eyes with him.

God, you’ve missed him. 

Sure, you’ve seen him just about every other weekend since you left Mallorca in August but other than some stolen glances in the paddock, your regular coffee dates, and some very spicy text messages and phone calls, you haven’t actually been with him and it’s gotten more and more difficult as time went by and so it takes everything you have not to run up to him.

Instead, there’s a chaste hug when he greets you, knowing the airport arrivals hall is too much of a public space to do anything but.

It isn’t until you sit down in the passenger’s seat of his car that’s parked in a far away corner in the garage, that he leans in and kisses you fiercely, tongue running between your lips almost immediately. You open your mouth greedily, your tongue chasing his into his mouth before you lick the inside of his cheek, savouring his taste.

Carlos pulls back then and mutters something in Spanish that you don’t quite catch but can figure out the meaning of soon enough when he steps back and rounds the car, leaving you to catch your breath on your own. When he steps inside he throws you a look that makes you shiver but doesn’t say anything, instead starting the car and backing up out of the parking space.

You put your seatbelt on and turn towards him in your seat, whispering a quiet, “Take me home, Carlos.”

***

Carlos circles your nipple with his tongue, making your arch your back, and you can feel him smile against your skin when you let out a quiet moan. He’s cupping your other breast with one hand while the other has two fingers inside you, slowly scissoring you open as his thumb rubs circles over your clit. 

You haven’t even made it into the kitchen yet because he’s got you flush against the wall in the hallway, your dress pushed up to your hips and your panties discarded somewhere between the front door and here. “Carlos,” you sigh, your hands cupping his face and guiding his mouth back to yours, the kiss drenched in want and need and-

“I don’t care how we do it,” Carlos says against the corner of your mouth, “but I’m done hiding you from the rest of the world, mami.” He pulls back a little and looks at you, pupils blown wide, “I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

You hum in agreement, throwing your head back so he can kiss his way back to your chest, your hands in his hair now to keep him in place. “All yours, baby,” you whisper, your voice a little hoarse. You cry out when he adds a third finger without warning, your eyes flying open when you feel him drag his mouth from your breasts to your stomach and further down, watching as he drops to his knees and laps at your clit, “Fuck, that’s it. Right there-”

He looks up at you and actually winks before he slides his hand behind your knee and pulls your leg up onto his shoulder for better access. 

The quiet whimper you let out when he pulls his fingers out of you is quickly replaced by a moan when you feel his tongue slide inside and he starts eating you out for real. You grip onto his hair a little tighter and grind your hips against his face, quietly pleading, “Don’t stop,” over and over and over again.

***

“Can’t we just stay here forever,” you muse quietly, your fingers ghosting over his chest, sometimes playing with the charm that’s hanging from his necklace. Behind the curtains the sky is a vivid orange, casting a faint glow into the bedroom that makes it feel like you’re in a movie. “I’ve saved up a nice bit of money and I’m sure you don’t have to work like, ever again-” above you Carlos chuckles, “-so I think we could make it work.” 

“Maybe. But I know mamà would kill us if we don’t make it home for Christmas, cariño,” Carlos reasons, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “so-”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agree quietly. You look up at him then, “Speaking of Christmas-I have an early Christmas present for you.”

Carlos raises his eyebrows, “Oh?”

You reach over him and grab your phone, pulling up the app you use for scheduled posts and angling the screen towards him, “I want to post this tonight. I’m done keeping you a secret.”

He takes your phone from you and scrolls through the five pictures you’ve edited, showing a curated timeline of your relationship since August, the first one a picture of him that you secretly took yesterday, when you were waiting on your food in a café in Cala d’Or, the rest of them selfies of you and him throughout the moments you shared together until now. His smile grows wider when he reads the caption before he looks at you again, “You sure?”

“Very,” you confirm easily enough and push yourself up so you can let your lips ghost over his. “We’ve waited long enough.” 

***

“Ok,” you refresh the page to confirm. “Done.”

Next to you Carlos nods, “Good.”

You’re on the couch in the living room, your feet resting in Carlos’ lap, both of you enjoying a glass of red wine. Before you even have a chance to lock your phone it rings, the name of your best friend popping up on your screen and you can’t help but grin when you show Carlos before you accept the call and put it on speaker, “Hi Maxy,”

“Pip-” his voice catches and so he tries again, “Pip, I think you made a mistake.”

“What are you-”

“You posted to your public account,” Max continues, panic seeping through his voice. “I don’t think- This should of course go on your private account. What if anyone- Oh Godverdomme” he lets out a shaky sigh, “you already have a hundred likes. You need to take it down, Pip, before-”

“Maxy,” you interrupt him with a smile, “breathe.” He’s still rambling and so you try again, “Max Emilian Verstappen, stop. Breathe. And go to Carlos’ profile.”

“But-”

“Do it.” You bite your lip to keep from laughing, Carlos already looking at you with a very bemused smile. In your head you count down, waiting for Max to understand, from three, to two, to one, to-

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” you agree easily enough, knowing Max has just seen the same caption with mostly the same pictures, on Carlos’ page. Except for the first one, where Carlos opted for a picture of you and Piñon sleeping together in the garden.

“So this was on purpose?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“And the team is ok with this?”

You let out a laugh, “Max, I love you but if you really think we posted this without running it by our bosses first I wonder if you even really know me.”

“Yeah, ok, that’s fair.” You can just imagine the way Max hangs his head. “Well, in that case I didn’t call.” 

You can hear him start to say his goodbyes and so you quickly say, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

It stays quiet on the other end of the line for a few seconds but then you hear him let out a heavy sigh that you know is fake because you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Of course. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Maxy,” you say with a self-satisfied smile. “I’ll call you on Christmas Day, ok? Love you.”

“Ik ook van jou.” He clears his throat then, “Oh and Carlos?” 

Carlos leans in, apparently not surprised that Max knows he was listening in, “Yes, cabrón?

“You’re very lucky to have her, mate. Don’t fuck it up.”

Carlos shakes his head even though Max can’t see him and looks at you with a warm smile, his hand wrapping around your wrist and his thumb rubbing the charm on your bracelet, “Never.”

Once you’ve said your goodbyes you put your phone on silent and toss it aside and when Carlos looks at you with a frown, you grin, “Everyone else can wait until tomorrow.”

“God, I love you,” Carlos mutters as he leans forward, swinging one leg over your hips so he’s lying on top of you, holding some of his weight off by resting on his elbows. He looks down at you and dips his head then, finding your mouth with his.

The kiss is different, slower, like you’re both desperate to savour every minute because you know there’s no rush. Not anymore. You let your hands run through his hair and when after a while he pulls back and collapses on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath hitting your skin in regular breaths, you wrap one leg around his waist and let out a content sigh, feeling your eyes grow heavy when you whisper, “I love you.” 

“Te amo, mi reina.”

- FIN -

Taglist:  @shes-homeward-bound | @chiogarza | @oyesmendes | @thatchickwiththecamera | @sanne-p | @your-favourite-blonde | @internetgremlin | @watermel0nsugarhigh | @fictional-l0v3r | @nochillnel | @dr3lover | @dan3avacado | @idkiwantchocolatee | @nicke0115 | @desperate-and-broken | @iamasimpingh0e | @guardians-ofthe-lastyoungkilljoy​ | @vroomvroommbtch

[ashtheketchum]

Hi :]

Can you write a rise Leo x a reader that has trouble sometimes speaking English because their main language is Spanish?

ROTTMNT Leo X Spanish GN.Reader

A/N: My first real request! Wow, I'm so happy! :D I like the idea, so let's do it! Have fun reading! (Picture from Pinterest!)

Summary: April brings an internet friend from Spain to the boys. April's friend has come to New York for vacation and is looking forward to meeting the four turtles. However, since the reader barely speaks English, Leo makes a few jokes.

Warnings: GN.Reader, oneshot, Leo is an idiot, Reader is from Spain (no appearance specified though!)

,,..." = Someone speaks spanish

____________________________________

PoV (Y/N):

I had finally arrived in New York and I was very happy. April, my internet friend, invited me to meet her friends and of course I immediately accepted her offer. We met on Instagram and have written every day since then. I also already knew April's “special” friends, the turtles. Raph, Leo, Donnie and Mikey. Although I only saw them briefly and introduced myself to them briefly, they were also happy to get to know me properly.

However, while I was writing to April, I always used a translator because my English was terrible. I only knew a few words, which usually got me through school, but New York was a whole other level. ´Hello´, ´Bye´ and ´How are you´ wouldn't be enough, I already knew that. So April helped me a bit with my pronunciation and vocabulary. We spoke on the phone every evening and she taught me important vocabulary, which I learned and then used. Even on my plane to New York, I learned every word again until I could only think about that language.

When I arrived at the airport, I saw April swaying towards me. Smiling, I walked towards her with my bags in my arms. "Hey, (Y/N)! I’m glad you’re here!” She greeted me and hugged me tightly. I laughed and hugged her back before looking at her beaming. "I'm happy too! This is something different from my home.” I would live with April for a full week before setting out to fly back. I was allowed to sleep with her for as long as I could.

"We're going to the boys' tomorrow, today we'll just unpack your stuff!" April said, giving a thumbs up. I also gave a thumbs up and grinned wider. ,, Yes!"

At April's house I unloaded my bags and we got the couch ready for me. I would sleep on the couch that April specially laid out. While we were putting my clothes in her closet, we ordered something to eat and watched a movie. We also watched it in English, so I might learn new words.

<Time Skip>

The next day April and I set off to see the turtles. Before that, April called the boys to let them know while I was still getting ready in the bathroom. When the call ended, however, April sighed loudly. ,, Everything okay?" I asked, with a worried look. ,, Yes! Yes, yes, everything is great!” But then she said, with a strained smile. I looked at her suspiciously for a moment before continuing to brush my teeth.

On the way there, we were quiet and we listened to the traffic. There was a lot going on, just like on many other days. But suddenly April spoke up, with a nervous grin. "Listen… if Leo seems weird, just ignore him, okay?" She said suddenly. I looked at her in shock before raising an eyebrow in confusion. April hadn't told me much about the turtles, just their names and their corresponding colors. And hearing something like that directly from one of them worried me a bit. “How exactly… do you mean that…?” April scratched the back of her head before answering. "You'll see that… just ignore him or speak in Spanish to confuse him."

Her answer didn't really cheer me up, but at least it was something. But then I nodded humming and prepared myself for this Leo.

In the cave, it didn't actually look like we were in the sewers. A huge main hall connected to many small rooms. It actually looked really cool. April showed me around here a bit before we arrived at a smaller, darker room. In the middle of the room was a brown armchair that was right in front of a screen. Around this chair stood four huge turtles, of different species. "Hey, guys! Look what I brought with me!” April shouted loudly.

The turtles turned their heads towards us and they smiled at me. Raph and Donnie smiled at me in welcome, Mikey more happily and Leo had that cheeky grin on him. Oh man, Leo. I didn't know him and I didn't want to anymore. "Hey, you must be (Y/N)!" Mikey then said and he pointed at me. ,, Yes that's me!" I then said proudly, as if I were a superstar.

"Cool, April told us a lot about you." Raph then said. April and I grinned widely at each other before both laughing quietly. But suddenly Leo pushed Raph and Mikey away and he bowed deeply to me. He took my hand in his and grinned cheekily at me. "Hello, new visitor. I’m Leo.” He said in Spanish. His accent was terrible and you could tell he had never spoken Spanish before. "Hello, Leo." I said simply, with a tight smile.

,, I'm pleased! That means you can understand us well, right?” He spoke too quickly so I couldn't understand him properly. I looked at him uncertainly as he then giggled. "Ohhh, I understand." He then giggled and wrapped his arm around my neck. "I'll show you around a bit! My house is also your house!” He just said laughing. April wanted to run after us, but Leo was already closing the door behind us.

Leo gave me a tour of their cave and he showed me the different rooms. During this time, however, he spoke so quickly that I couldn't understand him at all. It made me incredibly nervous, so I sometimes spoke in Spanish out of reflex. Whenever I did this, Leo would always laugh and squeeze in another line. "And here is my room! It’s actually the coolest thing based on the style, right?” Leo gave me a big grin while I just looked at him in awe. I didn't really feel uncomfortable, but I was incredibly nervous. "It looks very good, but everyone has their own taste." I murmured quietly, in Spanish.

,, Haha! I may know the basics, but I’m not that good, little one!” He then joked. However, all I understood was the nickname and that he wasn't good at something. Inwardly I tried to calm myself down and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry… I'm still learning…" I then murmured quietly, but this time in English. Leo chuckled again before wrapping his arm around my neck again. "You know I'm just teasing you, right?" He then asked, but this time he looked at me nicer.

Somehow I didn't know how to answer him. I had never thought that Leo would want to hurt me, but his jokes said something against it. Not that they hurt me, they were even amusing at times. "I… just don't understand English that well." I tried my best to get back into my rhythm, but Leo really had me out. "It's all good, little one."

Leo pulled away from me before handing me a small piece of paper. ,, This is my number. I'm sure we can talk more often when you're no longer here. But as long as you’re here, I really hope you come visit us every day.” He spoke so quickly again. I had trouble understanding him again, so I just stared at him silently. Leo gave me a wry smile before smiling lovingly at me. He repeated his words again, but more slowly and more clearly. It gave me some relief, so I nodded this time. "Y-yes, I'm coming to visit." I just said. Leo hummed happily for a moment before leading me back to the others.

April looked up at Leo completely distraught, but when she saw me smiling reassuringly at her, she relaxed again. Apparently she was worried, understandable. "Oh man, Leo… I hope you didn't do anything bad…" She just mumbled. "I would never!" He just laughed it off.

We spent the rest of the day with the brothers and their father. We chatted, but everyone made sure to speak slowly and clearly. Especially Leo. Sometimes he even translated what the others were saying. I was happy that they accepted me so much and that Leo stopped making jokes about me so often. Even though sometimes he wanted me to speak Spanish. "Leo, you are the weirdest idiot I have ever met." "Wow, what did you say!?" "That you're nice." He will never know.

That evening I saved Leo's number and April asked me what Leo had done after he kidnapped me. I explained to her that he had just shown me around again and talked to me. “You guys seem to like each other.” April suddenly said with a mischievous grin. My cheeks turned bright red and I stared at my phone screen. "Yeah, maybe… but he can really be an idiot…" I then said, with a small giggle. "Idiocy, cute turtle." I then mumbled quietly. "I understood that." April said suddenly, surprising me again.

Was there anything that April was not good in it?

[dirtyvulture]

😎 I can work with Yelena , Melina and Alexei as confirmed sergeant romanoff’s adopted family. But is Nat still older than Yelena by five years and is everyone still from Russia ? ( Like did Melina and Alexei come from Russia and adopted Nat from there too) Except Yelena ( in the comics at least, this wasn’t confirmed in MCU to my knowledge) who is from the Ukraine ( side note I stand with Ukraine) . Because there is a big gap in siblings with an age difference of five years as kids and not so much as adults ( my sister is four years older than me and she is my only sibling so I know what I am talking about) . Like there is a huge difference between 11 and 6 ( Ages of Nat and Yelena in the BW flashback opening) and in 18 and 13 ( the ages Nat and Yelena would be when Nat enlisted and left for the army) . But then twenties on ward it isn’t really anything ( My sister and I are in our twenties and we have gotten much closer than when we where kids ) . That is the information I need to know.

I think that Yelena is in either the Air Force or the Navy ( possibly the Marines, more likely the Marines) because Florence Pugh was ( the actor who played Yelena) was on running wild with Bear Grylls that would lend itself well with that. Either way I believed that Nat was in the military first and when she had gotten the news that Yelena enlisted she was NOT HAPPY because Nat loves her sister ( baby or not) more than life it’s fucking self and Nat is sooo scared for Yelena. Nat took that news out in many ways : She took it out on her liver with drinking vodka , took it out on the sub in her situation ship at the time, ( depending upon her rank at the time) took it out on the recruits and lower level grunts, took it out In training and used it to complete obstacle courses and beat opponents in combat training. Nat also hated the idea that Yelena would have to deal with the some toxicity , belittling, and abuse that she does.

I would think that Nat comes from a military family , Alexei ( possibly Melina) and his father and so forth all in the military ( Alexei and his father and after that would probably be Russian Military as a opposed to American) . So Nat and Yelena grew up bouncing from place to place and most likely learning a lot of languages and cultures but didn’t have a lot of experience with making and keeping friends their own ages or at all. Never really grew attached to any place or anyone. And while I think that Alexei and Melina love and care for their children and where good parents they didn’t always show it it in the always that were needed ( especially Alexei) and that could explain Nat’s rougher around the edges attitude and why she has a harder time letting people in and warming up to them. The only person that she is exceedingly affectionate and loving with is and has always been Yelena but now Nat has slowly doing that with SB. God help anyone that comments on Nat being openly loving and soft for her sister and her beef !

Now here is a another question and the last bit of this post. Do they all still have different last names: Natasha Romanoff , Yelena Belova, Melina Vostokoff , Alexei Shotskavo ( like when Melina and Alexei got married Melina kept her last name and when Nat and Yelena were adopted they kept their last names) ? Because imagine poor SB going to meet the family all excited golden retriever and having practice the correct Russian pronunciation of Nat’s last name after she told SB what it is and that she is from Russia but “ americanized” her name. Thinking it was the family name , only to be meet with other Russian last names they can’t hope to pronounce correctly apart from Belova ( which isn’t Russian but still Eastern European) . And at some point Melina calls out Natalia ( Nat isn’t in trouble, Melina and Alexei just call Nat her Russian birth name at home) and poor SB is looking around asking if there is a third sister/ daughter ( poor baby is sooo confused 😭) but being told no it is Nat’s birth name and Natasha is a Americanized nickname ( like how people named John are called Jack or people named Richard are called Dick) . The family loves SB and are super excited because Nat has NEVER BROUGHT ANYONE to meet the family so they knew it is very serious for Nat. Yelena and SB would get along so well and Nat would be like “ OH GOD there is two of them!!!!” as SB and Yelena are hyper active chaotic golden retrievers . It would be even better if there is a miss ✨KaTe BisHoP✨ ( it doesn’t matter if Yelena is AroAce in this universe or not , if they are dating or not . Kate and Yelena are an amazing duo no matter what) in the mix and there are three chaotic golden retrievers ( SB, Yelena and Kate ) and two black cats ( Nat and Melina) . Honestly I have no idea what Alexei would be.

You have a lot of very specific questions, anon 😂😅 But I appreciate them and will do my best to answer:

To be honest, since most of the characters haven't been introduced yet in the Sergeant Beef universe, I don't really know how "canon" these answers are since things can always change, but for now, we'll go with Nat being older by 4 years because that's a nice number lol.

I literally only watch that episode of Bear Grylls' show because Florence was in it lmao 😂 But she did a really good job keeping up with him! So yes, perhaps Yelena is a devil dog. :) Nat was definitely both proud and worried when Yelena enlisted, because like you said, she didn't want Yelena to be subjected to the same abuse and toxicity she faced, but she also knows how strong her sister is and that she could handle herself.

I guess for canon sake, we can keep everyone's last names as they are in the movies/comics lol. But yes, our poor golden retriever is going to be an absolute mess meeting Nat's family for the first time and trying to keep up with all the different names. However, Melina would find SB very cute and Alexei would love being able to mess around with SB, so they approve, and as you said, Yelena and SB are basically the same person, so Nat would be dying trying to keep them both out of trouble.

[hughiecampbelle]

hello hello!! hope you're doing well <3 so i saw ships were open again... and i did get one as an anon a while ago, but the format has changed for the 10k so back i am for your amazing writing <3

i'd love to be shipped with someone from the boys!! (i do feel bad requesting for specific characters even though it's incredibly easy to see who i want to smooch in this show. i love them all though and above all love to see authors get creative. go crazy go bonkers. ok with any character but the deep, homelander, stormfront, and firecracker.)

i'm a bi & ace jewish brazilian girl, 1.72m tall, with long, straight, brown hair (that i've always thought about dying but always chickened out of). no tattoos, even though i have a list of which ones i'd get and what do they mean. i'm from brazil but currently go to college in new york, majoring in theatre and minoring in translation. i'm fluent in portuguese and english, learning french, and have the life objective of becoming a polyglot.

i'm in love with theatre, literary analysis, linguistics, music, writing, and art in general — will absolutely ramble about anything i am interested in, and also might have strong opinions on stuff that maybe i didn't need to have a strong opinion on 💀 i can get a bit combative about that at times... i definitely take as my biggest skill, besides singing and acting which are quite literally my intended job (i want to be a musical theatre actress), eloquence and just my way with words (toxic trait is believing i'd talk my way out of a murder fr fr). friends that know me more recently would even say i'm an extrovert because of that, but honestly i am a pile of nerves of an introvert with social anxiety that simply loves yapping and putting on a show. most notable quirk/habit might be how precise i always am with finding the right words because i simply cannot leave an opening for misinterpretation (and that's on anxiety and a suspicion of undiagnosed adhd oops); that might lead me to be a bit picky (for the lack of a better word), specific, and/or literal with the words other people use as well.

other tidbits: i can't cook for shit, i love cats (i have a rescue named lily) but also like dogs a lot, i love kids and have been told i'm good with them. i'm crazy lucky for some reason and i love crime comedy movies. i'm almost always writing or thinking about writing but i can't ever finish a project (and you may have realized by now i write too much). i love arts & crafts & other manual activities, i do knot friendship bracelets to de-stress. my default hangout with anyone ever is grabbing coffee. i'm also pretty proud of my music taste — from alt rock to 40s-50s music, love curating the vibes and i'm a bit of a playlist freak. also i would 100% show brazilian music (mostly rock and mpb, brazilian popular music) to whoever i'm paired with 💥🇧🇷

when it comes to love life oh boy i am a disaster — the two situations i have ever gotten myself into were the objective hottest girl i know and the weirdest guy i've ever come across (and both are my good friends atm). for me doing something creative, like a project together, is the quickest way to bond; and being in cahoots with someone is the deepest form of connection. let's ramble about our interests, be weird together, cause a diplomatic crisis, watch a movie, write something, idk.

this was LOOONG but i hope it's not too much and it gives you plenty of material to write with!! thank you so much for carrying the the boys fandom on your back enna <3

Annie is actually blown away by both your love of and intelligence with languages. She's always trying to learn both Portuguese and French sayings (mostly nicknames/"I love you") to surprise you. She loves the look of joy on your face when you realize what she's trying to say. Her pronunciation could use some work, but it's still very adorable

It melts Annie's heart when she sees you around children. She knows it can be a lot, with kids and their parents running up to her, asking her for pictures, showing off their Starlight costumes. She would understand it got a little exhausting. But you have never minded, instead you ask them questions and make them laugh, telling them they're little superheroes, too

Annie feels like she can truly be herself around you. After all those years with the religious conventions and the time she spent with Vought, she was never allowed to be herself. She couldn't show off her real laugh that's squeaky and high-pitched. She couldn't swear as a teenager or say all the crude jokes she thought of. With you, though, she can let loose. She doesn't have to uphold this image like she's had to her whole life

You and Annie are as equally terrible at cooking. You make a plan to cook together, learning recipes and measurements. Sometimes the food gets burned, or worse, under cooked, and a few times you've had to split it out, wondering where you went wrong? But, overall, it builds your skills together and it makes you feel better about your lack of skills

Annie comes to every show you're in at least three times. She'll bring Hughie and Kimiko first, then M.M. and Frenchie, and the third time she goes along, wanting to see you in your glory, feeling like this moment belongs to her. She shows up with flowers every time and tells you parts and songs she's loved as if you hadn't spent weeks practicing lines and songs with her. She's so proud of you, she can't contain herself. She definitely happy cries at the end when you take your bows!

Want to request a ship?

My love!!!! I hope you like it!!!! :D Xoxoxo💜💜💜💜

[those70scomics]

Fictober Day 24: "you didn't do anything wrong"

That '70s Show Fanfic

Donna was working, writing a think-piece on what might be in store for the rock scene in the '90s. The townhome she and Eric rented had a third bedroom she used as an office. Soon, they'd convert it into a nursery. The waterfront view that inspired her creativity would become a serene place for her to focus during late nights with the baby. Or early mornings. And all the hours between.

She'd thought the decision to have a child would be a tough one. Her parents had little choice, considering her dad got Mom pregnant their senior year of high school. But Donna spent years integrating her relationship with Eric into her freedom and independence as an individual. She was more than ready to expand their family; she wanted to.

Her left hand went to her belly. It would "pop" eventually, Mom told her. She dropped her pen, and her notebook fluttered closed on the desk. Dad had as much right to know about his first grandchild as Mom. He'd be so supportive and excited, like he was everything Donna did -- mostly everything. If he told Point Place about her and Eric's temporarily private business, so be it.

She picked up the phone receiver and dialed his number. He picked up after three rings. "Did I catch you in the middle of Young and the Restless?"

"One Life to Live," he said, and Donna laughed. "Hey, being an entrepreneur-slash-retiree gives me a lot of free time. If Jo didn't still work, we'd probably have moved to Florida by now."

"I'm glad you haven't. Dad ... there's something I need to tell you."

"What is it, pumpkin?"

Concern cut through Dad's voice. It rippled in her stomach, and she pressed the phone receiver hard against her ear. "Your pumpkin is having a pumpkin of her own."

"With brown cinnamon?"

"With Eric. I'm having a baby, Dad."

An exhaled breath whooshed through her phone's ear pierced. "I'm so happy you told me! I wasn't sure if I could hold out another week."

"You already knew?" Donna twisted the phone cord around her right wrist.

"Your mom gave me the news. Then Red and Kitty swore Jo-Jo and me to secrecy because of their Halloween party."

Donna bowed her head. She'd misjudged her dad. Terribly. "I'm so sorry," she said, trying not to cry. The damn hormones flooding her pregnant body made the fight useless. "I would've... should have told you sooner -- "

"You didn't do anything wrong, sweetheart. I understand. Your dad can be a blabbermouth."

"Still, you're my dad. My dad," who loved her enough to quit being a chauvinist, with help from Joanne. Whose punishments contained mercy. Who gave her best friend a home when she had none. "You grew into being, like, the best dad in the world!"

"And I'll be the best granddad in the world. Speaking of which, Red can be called Grandpa. How about your little guy or gal call me Nonno?"

She smiled into the phone. "But that's what I call my nonno."

"Okey-dokey. Then Onorato."

"Honored?" in Italian. Of course. "Eric and I were thinking more of you being Pop-Pop."

A loud clatter sounded through the receiver, and she pulled the phone from her ear. "Are you okay?" she shouted.

"Yeah, just dropped the phone. Pop-Pop'll make me seem like a cartoon. I get plenty of ridicule from Red, thank you."

"All right, all right. I'll get over it. You can be Nonno," she said, and he corrected her pronunciation. She tried again, but he wasn't satisfied.

"I've changed my mind," he said. "If our grandkid calls me No-No, Red'll have a field day with that. What if I'm Grandpa and Red is Grampy?"

"Too close to Grumpy."

"But accurate."

Laughter overwhelmed her. She couldn't stop -- damn pregnancy hormones. They should be called horror-moans. "Dad," she managed to get out, "we'll figure this out later. I love you, and I have to vomit."

She hung up the phone and dashed to the bathroom. Hopefully, he'd be as forgiving about her putting I love you and I have to vomit in the same sentence as he was about her keeping her pregnancy from him for three weeks.

[redheadgleekfic]

Ficlet: Dear Elder Anderson

by @redheadgleek for @wowbright

Words: ~1400

Rating: General

Summary: Coming home isn't always easy.

A/N: written for and inspired by my dear friend @wowbright and their Mormon!Klaine universe. Several months ago, we were talking about what happened after Kurt's return from his mission and it inspired this idea. As Wow hasn't read this, think of it as an AU of an AU.

Other notes: this includes blatant descriptions of the LDS temple with direct wording from the endowment and sealing ceremonies. Along with a multitude of other sins not condoned by the church. If this offends, I encourage you to find something else to read.

*

5 August 2014

Dear Elder Anderson,

I know, it’s a little weird calling you this after so many weeks of using your first name. But now, after coming home where I can’t call you Elder Anderson to our investigators on a daily basis or hear Elder Flannigan slaughter the pronunciation, I miss it. 

I miss you.

I miss you every day. I think I miss you most in the mornings, when I think about those mornings sitting across from you as you ate your pretzel and scrambled eggs and we did companion scripture study together. But I also miss you at night when I could hear you breathe in the dark and listen to the little snort you’d make when you were just drifting off. 

It’s weird being home, weird being away from you after so many months with you constantly at my side. You’ve been my compass for so long, that now I feel adrift. I swore I wouldn’t be one of those missionaries who couldn’t have a normal conversation for months. But every time I start to share a story about my time in Germany, it always seems to feature you, and talking about you both thrills and hurts me, so I stop and I sound so awkward. 

Dad suspects something. How much I don’t know, but he asks me a lot of questions about you. He can sense something has changed. That I’m different than I was before. 

He and Carole sat down with me two nights ago. They want to be sealed in the temple next month. And they want me to do Finn’s temple work. 

I am so conflicted and I think my silence surprised them. Doing my brother’s temple work so that we could be together as a family for eternity was my primary goal for so many years. This is what I wanted. 

I feel no guilt or shame over my feelings for you or anything we did. What we have is precious and God-given. I know this with as much of a burning bosom surety as I got when I’ve prayed about the church. So I felt no guilt when I sidestepped the questions at my exit interview with the bishop and I told him I obeyed the law of chastity and was worthy to enter the temple with no hesitation. He would have disagreed with me, would have excommunicated me if I had confessed, but he is wrong. It was harder to answer the questions about sustaining the president as a seer and revelator, when I’m not sure that he really is, but I got my recommend and I’ve been determined to use it. 

And yet, when Dad brought up us spending the day at the temple, I was at a loss. Do I want to do Finn’s work any more? Will he really be lost to me for eternity if I don’t? If the church is wrong about being gay, is it wrong about the afterlife too? 

I wish you were here so I could talk to you about this. Your straightforward explanations always calmed my worries and got me out of my head. You never were afraid of any of the questions I asked. I know if I brought them up with Dad, he’d worry about it. 

On the plus side, I was able to shove all of my mission suits to the back of my closet. I went on a shopping spree and treated myself to a new waistcoat and shirts with color and jeans - jeans, Blaine, I’ve missed them so much. They look great with the bowtie you gave me - I’ll send you the pics. 

Love, Kurt

*

7 September 2014

Mein Liebling Elder Anderson,

Yesterday, Carole took out her endowment and she and Dad were sealed together for time and all eternity. And with me acting as proxy, Finn was sealed to them too. They were so happy. Carole looked radiant in her white dress and Dad kept hugging us both. 

It was a draining day, spiritually nourishing and numbing at the same time. 

Dad baptized me, confirmed me and gave me the priesthood for Finn. I wept hearing his name over and over. “Kurt E Hummel, I baptize you for and on behalf of Finn Christopher Hudson, who is dead.”

Kurt E Hummel, I confirm you a member of the Church of Jesus Christ for and on behalf of Finn Christopher Hudson, who is dead."

Who is dead. I was reminded over and over that he was dead.

I’ve always loved the symbolism of the temple. Perhaps because Dad was a convert and Mom did things her own way, but I’ve never minded the anointing or the endowment or found it weird. There’s something meaningful in the rituals, the way that we would all perform the same signs at the same time that felt powerful. I felt closer to God the few times I went to the temple before my mission and that’s why I’ve been so determined to keep my recommend. 

Elder St. James told me once that he almost walked out when he took out his endowments, certain that he was part of a cult. I don’t think I ever asked you of your experiences with the temple. Carole didn't seem too shocked, but I'm pretty sure that Dad filled her in on what to expect.

The endowment bothered me more yesterday. Finn was washed clean from his sins by someone who everybody else in the church would see as sinning. I couldn’t help that wave of worry that by lying to the lord’s anointed to get the recommend and doing Finn’s work, I would be invalidating it all and he would be in the terrestrial kingdom forever. I tried to ignore it as I pledged to refrain from loud laughter for my brother whose loud, free laugh could be heard across the school and made everybody around him happy. I took vows to obey the law of chastity with promises for his posterity when he never got to get married or have kids or any of that. 

There were beautiful moments too and those were almost harder. When the officiant reminded us about the meaning of the marks, I remembered stroking the mark of the square on your breast as I listened to your heartbeat. I love seeing you in your garments, seeing you as a son of God. 

And everything felt peaceful and familiar and right when I stood in the prayer circle next to my dad and stepmom. Carole was crying, tears that seeped out from under her veil and my dad was glowing in pride for what I was doing. His wish of having all of his family together. 

Dad took Carole through the veil. Does my mom mind sharing my dad for eternity? So many questions that I have no answer for. He also served as the officiant when I got to the veil too. I didn’t know that this was going to happen and I started crying when I heard his voice through the veil. Having my dad’s hand on my shoulder, holding my hand and giving the tokens, and hearing him say “Let him enter” - Blaine, this is all I’ve ever wanted. We sat in the celestial room afterwards, talking about Finn and cried together. For once, one of the temple workers didn’t try to shush us for talking too loudly. 

When it was time for the sealing, we all walked to the room together. It was just the three of us and the sealant. Dad and Carole were sealed first, and then I knelt next to them as Finn, who is dead. I looked into the mirror, and watched our reflections echoing, trying to picture my mom beside us and Finn and you. Because you belong there too in our circle of love. I wish I could kneel across from you and take your right hand and pledge before God, angels and witnesses to uphold the holy order of matrimony.

And I can’t. I won’t ever be able to do that. 

We took pictures outside on the temple grounds. I’ve always loved the simplicity of the Columbus temple. It was built when I was a toddler, and I have pictures of my parents and me at the open house, my dad carrying me because it had been a long day. 

Again, I imagined you holding my hand as we exited out of the front door to the cheers of all of our loved ones. 

I thought I could still make the church work after coming home. I’d be like John Gustav-Wrathall, faithfully attending church every week with you by my side, even if they disfellowshipped or excommunicated me. I don’t know if I can do that, because I ache so much for what I can’t have. 

But I know this. You are worth more than the eternity that the church offers. 

Love, Your Kurt

[graziadiocenterilpostino]

Faculty Spotlight: Jaclyn Taylor

1. Please tell us a bit about yourself & describe what first made you interested in learning Italian.

My name is Jaclyn Taylor, I’m a part-time lecturer and translator – this semester I’m teaching Italian, comparative world literature, and supervising some communications activity sections, which has been very interesting, since it is outside of my subject area. I came to Italian (and CSULB) through what administrators often like to call a “non-traditional” route – I was a working transfer student, though it is clear to any lecturer that most of our students work, and nearly half of students in the CSU are transfers. While in community college I knew I wanted to get a Spanish BA and exhausted every Spanish course available to me there (and any other course that interested me), while also working as an astronomy TA, in a science fiction and mystery bookstore, as an event coordinator, doing bookkeeping – I don’t know where I got the energy! At that time, you were also required to complete courses in an additional foreign language for the Spanish BA. That requirement turned out to be the one that changed the trajectory of my life in a very positive way. I had originally taken Japanese at El Camino College due to it mostly sharing pronunciation with Spanish, and did quite well my first semester, but I realized I did not have the time to really dedicate myself to learning a new writing system, and I struggle with certain kinds of memorization tasks. Soon after completing that semester my late father decided to retire and move to the Central Coast, so I moved in with a friend in Long Beach. I saw that Italian was offered at LBCC, knew the pronunciation was also similar to Spanish, and decided to take it with Dr. Mihaela Mehr, who went to CSULB herself. During those classes it became very clear to me that my background with another Romance language was an asset – I would constantly say “oh, that’s just like in Spanish!” and she eventually told me about the intercomprehension-focused program in Italian here. This was back in 2014. Finding that out was fundamental in getting me to choose CSULB – I had the grades to transfer pretty much anywhere, but I was really interested in that approach which felt cutting edge and community-conscious. That, along with the coursework I saw in the Spanish BA program, is why I came here in 2015 to continue my studies, adding an Italian minor, since at that time I already had too many units completed to double major. I loved the faculty in RGRLL and the intercomprehension and translation coursework available, made friends in Italy due to a series of serendipitous events which gave me an opportunity to write and speak in Italian daily, and I decided that once I finished my BA, I would do the Italian MA (after a small detour doing a translation internship in Recanati). As a grad student I got to teach Italian for Spanish Speakers several times, which was really exciting; I loved being able to combine my interests and particular skill sets in our department and see my students have those same “oh, that’s just like in Spanish!” moments I had ten years ago.

2. What kind of advice do you have for someone who is interested in the Italian Studies program at CSU Long Beach?

Now I’m sure this may not be a popular answer, but I think being passionate about the culture and history of Italy, positive and negative, is really essential to getting a solid grasp on the language. Yes, it’s a beautiful country! Yes, the food is great! Yes, the clothes are stylish! Yes, you should go there and do the touristy things! But it also has a really fascinating, and at times ugly, political history that has a lot of lessons for us here in the States. Then again, where isn’t that the case? I think you tend to love something even more when you can embrace it for what it is, warts and all. Our program, to me, has a strong interdisciplinary approach that gives you a lot of room to pursue your interests, and students with a wide breadth of knowledge tend to thrive because they can make the kind of connections that are essential for understanding the current moment in which we find ourselves. I also think it’s important to get to know your instructors and be open to any opportunity that comes your way; so much of what I have been able to do has been the result of the genuine support and mentorship I have received from instructors who are now colleagues, like Dr. Clorinda Donato, who knew me and my skills as a student and often asked, “hey, would you be interested in - ?” thereby giving me the opportunity to say “yes!!” Being open to learning everything you can in the time you have here and saying yes to exciting opportunities that at first may feel scary is a huge part of your growth not just as a student, but as a human being. Say yes to things!

3. Apart from teaching, you are also involved in translation. Do you have a favorite work you’ve translated? 

This is like asking a parent who their favorite child is (I’m an only child, so I’m always the favorite)! I’m kidding. Maybe. Each translation has a special place in my heart, because I have learned so much from all of them. Sometimes too much. I think I have a real fondness for a translation I did during undergrad of part of Torquato Tasso’s epic Gerusalemme liberata, because it is the first one I really remember challenging me, and it ended up as the closing piece in Translation Becomes Eclectic, Vol. II, which was exciting – it might be my first publication. I did it in an Italian translation course I took with our current chair, Dr. Aparna Nayak, and it was my first introduction to the idea that there were different theories of translation. Now that I work for the Clorinda Donato Center for Global Romance Languages and Translation Studies, I get to draw on all of my experience, knowledge, and research skills gained during my BA, MA, and the translation graduate certificate I also received here as a member of the program’s first cohort, and it feels really validating to know all of that hard work is being put to use, rather than just living on my wall in a diploma frame. More recently, I enjoyed translating an article on pilgrimage tattoos in Loreto in the early modern period, written by Massimo Cattaneo – it was utterly fascinating and, to be quite honest, really gross. These were tattoos made by cobblers who would carve into the skin of pilgrims using their shoe-making tools, and then rub ink into the wounds. A shocking quantity of saliva is involved. Let’s just say I love any translation that gives me something to talk about at parties.

4. You have traveled to Italy several times, what is your favorite place to visit? 

Obviously, it is easy to say I love Rome, because it is a big city with lots to see and is highly navigable by foot and public transit as a solo traveler or with others, but my fondest memories are from visiting small towns in Abruzzo with my good friend Cristina. There is a cute little beach town called San Vito Chietino that I like to visit, where you can get fresh caught and fried seafood and see some trabocchi, which are fishing platforms that are particular to that stretch of Adriatic coastline. I also love a hilltop town called Guardiagrele, which has a lovely art nouveau park (which they call liberty style in Italy) with beautiful greenery and a view of both the sea and mountains. It is also home to a bakery known for a rich, cream-filled pastry called sise delle monache which isn’t appropriate to translate here but has some affinity with a memorable bit character from Total Recall.

5. You have three pets, please introduce them. 

My partner and I do have three! We have our little old man Andy, who is an arthritic but very sweet white German shepherd. He’s at least 12 now and naps a lot. I joke that he looks like Baby Yoda because of his big ears, which I also call his satellite dishes. We also have two cats, Moo Moo and Hazel. Moo Moo was found starving and dazed here in the streets of Long Beach by some good friends, and we adopted him from them in the beginning of 2021. They named him Moo Moo because he looks like a little cow, and the name stuck, even though he mostly chirps like a bird or makes tiny grunts. He’s about as heavy as a cow now, though. Hazel is a slinky little tabby-tortie cat we adopted from a rescue in San Luis Obispo county in October 2022 when she was 4 months old. Her favorite time of day is bedtime! She runs to our room when she thinks we’re packing in for the evening. She is pretty quiet like Moo but loves to sit in the window and chatter at birds, or run around the house like she’s about to get caught after doing some sort of mischief. Moo and Hazel like to compete for the top of their cat tower, which means I have seen many improbable (and incredibly cute) kitty sleeping arrangements.

Jaclyn in Abruzzo

Moo and Hazel

Andy aka Baby Yoda

[bennettmarko]

When he turned to find another seat in another car, she was standing there. Her hair was the color of birch bark, prematurely white, and he stared at her as though her thyroid were showing its excessive activity and her hypereroticism. She stood smoking a new cigarette, leaning back, riding forward, and looking out of the window.

“Maryland is a beautiful state,” she said.

“This is Delaware.”

“I know. I was one of the original Chinese workmen who laid track on this stretch, but nonetheless Maryland is a beautiful state. So is Ohio, for that matter.”

“I guess so. Columbus is a tremendous football town. You in the railroad business?” He felt dizzy. He wanted to keep talking.

“Not any more,” she told him. “However, if you will permit me to point it out, when you ask someone that, you really should say: ‘Are you in the railroad line?’ Where is your home?”

“I’ve been in the Army all my life,” Marco said. “We keep moving. I was born in New Hampshire.”

“I went to a girls’ camp once on Lake Francis.”

“Well. That’s away north. What’s your name?”

“Eugénie.”

“Pardon?”

“No kidding. I really mean it. And with that crazy French pronunciation.”

“It’s pretty.”

“Thank you.”

“Your friends call you Jenny?”

“Not yet they haven’t.”

“I think it’s a nice name.”

“You may call me Jenny.”

“But what do your friends call you?”

“Rosie.”

“Why?”

“My full name—the first name—is Eugénie Rose. I have always favored Rosie, of the two names, because it smells like brown soap and beer. It’s the kind of a name that is always worn by the barmaid who always gets whacked across the behind by draymen. My father used to say it was a portly kind of a name, and with me being five feet nine he always figured I had a better chance of turning out portly than fragile, which is really and truly the way a girl using the name Eugénie would have to be.”

“Still, when I asked you your name, you said Eugénie.”

“It is quite possible that I was feeling more or less fragile at that instant.”

“I never could figure out what more or less meant.”

“Nobody can.”

“Are you Arabic?”

“No.”

He held out his hand to be taken in formal greeting. “My name is Ben. It’s really Bennet. I was named after Arnold Bennet.”

“The writer?”

“No. A lieutenant colonel. He was my father’s commanding officer at the time.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Marco.”

“Major Marco. Are you Arabic?”

“No, but no kidding, I was sure you were Arabic. I would have placed your daddy’s tents within twelve miles of the Hoggar range in the central Sahara. There’s a town called Janet in there and a tiny little place with a very rude name that I couldn’t possibly repeat even if you had a doctorate in geography. When the sun goes down and the rocks, which have been heated so tremendously all day, are chilled suddenly by the night, which comes across the desert like flung, cold, black stout, it makes a salvo like a hundred rifles going off in rapid fire. The wind is called the khamseen, and after a flood throws a lot of power down a mountainside the desert is reborn and millions and millions of white and yellow flowers come to bloom all across the empty desolation. The trees, when there are trees, have roots a hundred feet long. There are catfish in the waterholes. Think of that. Did you know that? Sure. Some of them run ten, twelve inches. Everywhere else in the Arab world the woman is a beast of burden. Among the Tuareg, the woman is queen, and the Hoggar are the purest of the Tuareg. They have a ceremony calledahal, a sort of court of love where the woman reigns with her beauty, her wit, or the quality of her blood. They have enormous chivalry, the Tuareg. If a man wants to say ‘I love!’ he will say ‘I am dying of love.’ I have dreamed many times of a woman I have never seen and will never see because she died in 1935, and to this day the Tuareg recall her in their poetry, in their ahals, telling of her beauty, intelligence, and her wit. Her name was Dassine oult Yemma, and her great life was deeply punctuated by widely known love affairs with the great warriors of her time. I thought you were she. For just an instant, back there in that car a little while ago, I thought you were she.”

His voice had gotten more and more rapid and his eyes were feverish. She had held his hand tightly in both of hers as he had spoken, ever since he had introduced himself. They stared at each other.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You became one of my best and bravest thoughts,” he told her. “I thank you.” The taut, taut band around his head had loosened. “Are you married?”

“No. You?”

“No. What’s your last name?”

“Cheyney. I am a production assistant for a man named Justin who had two hits last season. I live on Fifty-fourth Street, a few doors from the Museum of Modern Art, of which I am a tea-privileges member, no cream. I live at Fifty-three West Fifty-fourth Street, Three B. Can you remember that?”

“Yes.”

“Eldorado nine, two six three two. Can you remember that?”

“Yes.”

“You look so tired. Apartment Three B. Are you stationed in New York? Is stationed the right word? Fifty-three West Fifty-fourth Street.”

“I’m not exactly stationed in New York. I have been stationed in Washington but I got sick and I have a long leave now and I’m going to spend it in New York.”

“Eldorado nine, two six three two.”

“I stay with a friend of mine, a newspaperman. We were in Korea together.” Marco ran a wet hand over his face and began to hum “La Seine.” He had found the source of the sound of the open A. It was far inside this girl and it was in the sound of the name Dassine oult Yemma. He couldn’t get the back of his hand away from his mouth. He had had to shut his eyes. He was so tired. He was so tired. She took his hand gently away from his mouth. “Let’s sit down,” she said. “I want you to put your head on my shoulder.” The train lurched and he almost fell, but she caught and held him, then she led the way into the other car where there were plenty of seats.

- Richard Condon, The Manchurian Candidate

[no-droids]

Ask Me Again Tomorrow

gif credit @pedros-pascal​

Part Sixteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.3K

Warnings: SMUTTTTT, following/stalking, some fluffy moments but mostly just a lil action and interaction, I don’t think there’s any other warning besides language and the smut (comm sex WITH A TWIST YALLLLL) but if you happen to find something else that warrants a tag, please let me know and I will do so accordingly!

A/N: The response to this story has grown beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined and I genuinely thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the privilege of writing for you.  Hope this one ends up being okay and I’ll get to work on the next chapter soon!

***

Headstart—12:17pm:

The sky is so pretty.  There isn’t much to look at on the surface—rolling hills and plains, grassy but with dry bare spots breaking up the green stretches, but the sky.  It’s an oil painting above you, pastel swishes of yellows and pinks and purples with an enormous ringed planet taking up half the horizon and another sizable moon hanging high.

You should probably be running.  Like, for real sprinting, but you can’t push yourself to go faster than a brisk walk.  It’s so… free out here, more hills springing up every time you get to the top of the next, warm air filling your lungs.  Even though you know realistically that the beginning will likely be the hardest—where you need to focus most on running and putting distance between you instead of hiding—truth be told, you’re not foreseeing making it more than a full day.  You’re going to try, obviously, but in the grand scheme, you wouldn’t be surprised in the least if he finds you tomorrow.  So, instead of wasting all your energy going as fast as you physically can right out of the gate, you just decide to stroll and think for a little bit.

You know what your goal is.  Obviously, to last as long as you can, but more specifically… well, if Din is going to chase after you, then he’s going to try to think like you.  Anticipate your movements, if he can’t already see the tracks you leave plain as day.  Very soon, he’ll be walking this same exact pathing, following the footprints you’re leaving behind, but if you’re ever able to shake him or throw him off course, he doesn’t have a tracking fob.  He doesn’t have any mechanical device that points him in your direction—if you can lose him with the footprints, then he’ll have to rely solely on predicting you. Which means you need to think… exactly the opposite of yourself if you want to outsmart him.

That’s harder than it sounds though, because… is he going to predict you predicting him?  At what point does it stop?  You somehow have trouble seeing this as an advantage the way he said it would be—you almost wish you had someone else chasing you, someone you didn’t know and someone who didn’t know you if only so this paradox could end before it begins.

You’re walking for about ten minutes before spotting a dirt road in the distance.  There’s a person following it in the direction of the sun—you don’t know this planet’s magnetic field but you do know it’s after noon and the sun would set on Arvala-7 in the west, so that’s what you’ll call it for now.  You call out to them as soon as you’re in range, and the stranger turns to you.

“Excuse me!”  It’s a woman, you see it as you get closer.  “I’m so sorry to bother you, but can you tell me where this road leads?”

She removes a sheer yellow shawl covering her dark hair and gives you a friendly smile.  “Hello,” the lady greets, before spinning around and pointing back the way she came.  “Osiruu is a few hours that way.  There’s not much there, but it will take you to G’ila, a transport hub with many opportunities for drifters, or Nariss, the capital.  I’m on my way to Shabeth,” she points in the other direction.  “It’s far—a day’s walk, but it’s a holy place and offers quite the view.  I would be glad for the company, but I understand its lack of practical appeal.”

So this place is safe enough to be inviting strangers along on your travels, noted.  You’re going to have to make the decision right now, then.  Which path should you take?

Something deep inside you tells you that you want to see this holy place, and just from a few sentences, you already like this woman and feel safe with her.  But then all of a sudden, you remember something.

Last known locations tell you a lot about a quarry, Din’s voice drifts back to you, sounding soft and distant from the dark forests of Naboo.  Smart ones go to populated planets, planets like Coruscant, planets that make it nearly impossible to find people.  Brave ones go to dangerous planets, suicidal ones try their luck in the Unknown Regions, idiots continue to go about their business on their homeworld without caring.  But planets like this—like Naboo… those are the pacifists.  The ones that don’t ever put up a fight.

You suppose you should decide what kind of quarry you want to be.  Friendly company and a view is something you normally crave—it’s something your soul speaks to after going without it for so long during your previous life.  You never pictured yourself as the fighting type.  When Din first asked you, you told him you wouldn’t run from him if he was chasing you, and choosing to accompany this kind stranger to her destination is essentially just that.  Sacrificing a chase for a pretty view.

“Does Shabeth have a sizable population?”  You ask her, and she shakes her head.

“It’s the sight of an annual pilgrimage that happens in a few months, but it’s beautiful there and I like to go whenever I can,” she tells you with a soft smile.  “But there’s nothing for miles outside it, I’m afraid.”

Your footprints will lead directly there.  He’ll find you easily.

“It sounds very nice, but I need to find somewhere with a lot of people,” you give her an apologetic smile.  Truly, you think she would’ve made for a nice friend.  “Thank you for your help, though, and good luck with your journey!  I hope we meet again.”

“Do you need any food or supplies?”  She asks you, and you stop short of passing her by.  “I don’t have much with me, but know what it’s like to be a newcomer to Sanctuary II.  I’d be glad to help.”

Good Maker, is this how everybody is here or did you just hit the jackpot with this lady?  She seems like… you, almost.  Her voice is gentle, she looks like she’d give nice hugs.  You’re about to politely turn her down, but then you realize the brilliant opportunity that’s presented itself in her image.

“Actually, this might sound like a really strange question, but…” you tell her, before looking down at her feet.  “Wanna trade shoes with me?”

***

Headstart—6:12pm:

You don’t think it’ll work, but as you walk into a small settlement a few hours later in a unfamiliar and worn pair of sandals, you decide that you’ll need to do this as often as possible.  You can’t come up with anything else that’ll throw him off your physical trail besides constantly switching shoes—is that bad?  Are you just an idiot with no hope?  You’ve had—you check your watch—like, five hours to think of a game plan, and all you’ve come up with is shoes?  You’re screwed.

At least there’s food here.  Plenty.  There’s vendors stationed along the street, multiple people passing by and going about their business.  Osiruu, that nice woman said—not much here, but you think she was wrong.  There’s children giggling and jumping rope on the corner, a shopkeeper sweeping her storefront, a graying man with an empty cup plucking an unfamiliar melody on an unfamiliar instrument—and while your tummy growls and you know you should quickly buy supplies and be on your way, you still stop for just a few minutes to listen.

It’s a lovely tune.  You drop a few credits in his cup after he finishes and find yourself humming it as you look at the plethora of goods being offered by the vendors.  Water, food—you buy enough of everything to sustain you for at least a couple days, not wanting to go hungry but also feeling realistic over optimistic.  The cuisine is foreign and you just point to things that look appetizing since you’re not sure about the name or pronunciation, but after paying and taking a bite into a rather large piece of purple fruit, your eyes nearly cross at how sweet and tasty it is.  Holy Maker, that might just be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.  You ask for two more after you finish the first, tucking one in your backpack next to your blaster and munching on the other as you keep browsing.

Suddenly you see shoes—yes.  Fucking shoes, your salvation.  You take a good look at all your options, of which, there aren’t many.  Generic men's, women's, and children's, all in the same color and design.  It’s good in a way—you see most people walking around in the same type of clothing here and you pray there’s not a way for him to track your gait or the whole thing is a bust, but truthfully, what you’re most worried about is the fact that you’ll create a brand new set of footprints wherever your old ones disappear.  Unless you trade with someone else, you won’t ever have a back pathing, you know that Din will probably be able to easily spot it.

“Three pairs of these, please,” you point to the correct shoes and tell him your size, but then—“Oh wait, actually, can I actually have one of them that’s the next size up?  And another that’s the same but in men's?”

The man behind the counter gives you an odd look but acquiesces, measuring the size of your preferred pair to multiple men’s shoes to find one that looks roughly the same—you doubt he’s ever had a request like this, but you’re also a generous tipper.  His smile is grateful when you tell him to keep the change and then you’re stuffing the new shoes into your backpack and moving onward.

Would there be some kind of map here, you wonder?  One that shows distance so you won’t waste time trying to reach a place you won’t be able to walk to?  That lady said a transport hub and the capital are through this settlement, but she didn’t provide much information beyond that.  You don’t want to be in the middle of nowhere when he finally catches up to you, you’ll need some place to hide.

When you stop to ask an elderly gentleman as he passes by, he freely provides you a basic gist.  There’s a large forest beyond Osiruu—after it will be a road that passes through a few notable places, with a town called Sijua to the west that leads north to G’ila, and Devain to the east that leads northeast to Nariss.  Both are within walking distance, though it may take a couple days to reach your destination.

Alright then.  Through the forest, you suppose.  You probably should’ve asked which way is east, but he’s already leaving and you don’t have the nerve to ask him to stop again.  You have a finger point, that’s all you need.  Making sure to use one of the small restrooms near the square before heading out, you eventually decide to make your way towards the direction he said this forest would be.

***

Headstart—6:58pm:

A bus.

You’re not going to take it, of course, but it’s the perfect solution to the problem you’ve been mulling over.  It’s at the very edge of the small settlement, and you quickly speed up into a half-jog as soon as you hear its engine running.

“Last call for the seven o’clock!”  A large man stationed near the doors yells as you approach.  “Last bus to G’ila until tomorrow!”

The sun is setting and you have to extend your hand out in front of you to not be blinded by it.  “Hello,” you give him a smile, before grabbing one of the handles on the side and stepping up onto the metal platform.

“Ah!”  The man quickly stops you, moving to stand in front of the open doors.  He’s as wide as he is tall, big enough that he blocks the entire exit.  “That’ll be ten credits, miss.”

“Oh,” you say, patting your empty pockets and pulling your eyebrows inwards, trying not to move too much in case the sizable amount of credits you have stashed in your backpack happen to rattle.  “Oh, no.  I think I lost my wallet.”

He sighs.  “Off the bus then please, miss.  Come back tomorrow if you find it.”

You nod, leaning your forearm against the paneling and beginning to take your shoes off.  “Will it be parked in the same place exactly?”

The driver looks curiously at you, clearly confused at both the strange question and your strange actions.  “I’m sorry?  Please—off the bus.”

“One second,” you tell him, now barefoot on the platform and digging into your backpack for the slightly larger sized shoes you bought earlier.  The sound of credits clink against your blaster, but you hope he takes your lead in purposefully ignoring them.  “Does the bus to G’ila park in this spot every single day?”

“Yes,” the man tells you impatiently, eyeing the way you’re stepping into the new pair with a subtle look of distaste.  Everyone is polite here, it seems.  “It will arrive back at seven am sharp with passengers from G’ila, in the same exact place.  Please get off the bus.”

“Thank you, sir,” you tell him with a smile, watching him step to the side to allow you to drop down into the dirt again and continue on your way.

Brilliant, if you do say so your fucking self.  Eliminate the need for a back pathing.  All footprints facing this direction are going to be the first footprints, and all of them facing the opposite way are going to be the last; if Din manages to figure out you didn’t take the bus, then he won’t be able to tell which new set are yours and which belong to the other passengers.  You pray the helmet can’t track gaits, but while you’re still paying enough attention, you make sure to keep your steps just slightly longer and even try placing more weight on the edges of your feet to make it look like you have a slightly higher arch than you actually do.  You’d put a pebble inside of them or something, but you know you’re going to be walking through the night and you don’t want to commit to having your feet hurt more than you already know they’re going to.

Eventually the quaint shops and small houses disappear behind you, and the sun setting over the horizon turns the clouds above turn more dusty green and brown than yellow and pink.  You hope Din opened up the ramp after you left.  You want him to see the sky.

***

Headstart—9:34pm

The forest here is different from Naboo, too.

Maybe it was because you only saw it while you were in crisis-mode, but that forest seemed much scarier and darker than this one.  The vegetation there was thick and overgrowing, but these trees look like they’ve never had leaves on them at all.  No twigs or small branches that sprout from the trunks—the branches are all thick and gnarly, criss-crossing with each other with how close they’ve grown together.  You bet their roots are practically one at this point, stretching for miles and miles but all sharing the same system.

Because there aren’t any leaves, there's nothing to block the moonlight shining clear and crystalline through the twisting maze of branches.  Sanctuary II appears to have a sister moon—Sanctuary I, perhaps?—that’s likely a similar size, because it’s the same one you've seen all day and it’s barely moved a few degrees that you can tell.  It must orbit incredibly close and be tidal-locked with this one then.  Two massive satellites swinging around each other as they circle a ringed gas giant, but it makes a stunning view and reflects more than enough light to see.

The sky is deep blue and maroon and you’ve been walking in a straight line for hours, using the stationary moon overhead as your guide.  The only issue with this plan that you’ve been able to come up with is that there’s no widely traveled path through the trees—even you can see your footprints and the clear trail you’re leaving behind.  You’ve been trying for a while to figure out another clever evasion tactic, but it’s harder than it sounds.  Can’t just change shoes again, that’ll be a dead giveaway.  How do you lose him?

You stop for a second, reaching into your bag to grab some water and stay hydrated.  Looking up once more at the beauty of the swirling colors peeking through the branches above you, you find yourself pausing after returning the bottle to your pack.  There are… an atrocious number of branches up there, and all of them are long and tangled and thick.  Sturdy.

You’ve… never climbed a tree before.

Without thinking much beyond that, you decide to bend your knees and jump, grabbing hold of one of the strong wooden tubes over your head and then swinging your legs up.  Ouch—the bark scrapes against your palms and you have to hold on tight with your thighs while you shimmy yourself upwards, but at least the wood is solid as fuck.  It takes you a minute or two, but you’re eventually able to shuffle yourself around so you’re straddling the thick branch, and then you look out to see the large collection of them criss-crossing in every direction around you.

Oof, this is dangerous.  You know it even before you start.  The gaps leading to the ground are bigger and more numerous than your potential pathing forward, but the only thing that gives you reassurance is how thick the wood is—you’re almost certain the branches aren’t going to break as long as you’re careful.

Okay.  Shoes, these are too big for the kind of dexterity you’re going to need.  You take them off slowly, being extra careful not to drop them, and then exchange them with the better-fitting pair you bought earlier, making a mental note that the sandals and the larger shoes are the two you’ve already worn.  If your pursuer manages to catch on to the multiple footprint changes, your most recent ones should ideally just… disappear right there, shouldn’t they?

You grin, before struggling into a low crouch and looking around your wooden cage for a safe way forwards.

***

Headstart—11:37pm:

Water.

A blessing, and not because you’re thirsty.  You have clean water in your bag and decades of habits formed in the desert to ensure you’re taking breaks and drinking enough—what you need is a way to disguise your footprints once you get back on the ground again.  This was good; scuttling your way along thick and twisting branches for as long as you have was time-consuming and exhausting, but it allowed you to avoid touching the ground for at least a mile or so, which means he’ll have to comb that entire radius to look for your drop.

And it was fun.

You even found yourself giggling as you ducked and scooted, ignoring the bark scraping your skin and your panting breaths, the way your face got sweaty and hot.  You had to do some brave maneuvers at tricky spots—jumping, balancing, hugging—but it almost just felt like an exciting little obstacle course for you and you’re honestly having a fucking blast right now.

Water, though.  Water is an unexpected beauty, even more than you’ve always considered it to be.  Water is an eroder.  Not only powerful enough to smooth down the rough edges of strong elements over time, but it will hide your footprints as soon as you create them and leave no indication that you were ever there.

Eventually you see it—a babbling stream cutting a considerably wide line through the trees.  You creep forward and hang tight to a branch above you to make sure you won’t fall, wiping the sweat on your brow with your other hand as you study the terrain.  The water is… a considerable distance below you, maybe about ten or so feet, and there’s quite a few branches on either side that extend and hang out over it.  You could probably find your way to the other side somehow, but something tells you to avoid the road beyond the forest if you can.  It leads to multiple places, it would be better to follow the stream until you can eventually merge with it later.

That means you’re… fuck.  You’re going to have to jump, aren’t you?

It’s the only way—you can’t leave footprints which means you’re going to need to land in the water.  The trees clear too far from the shoreline, so you can’t shimmy down the trunk of one for a shorter fall.  You’re going to have to climb out on one of those long branches until you’re suspended over the stream, and then you’re going to have to lower yourself as far as you can and then let go.  With your height already accounting for at least half the distance plus the length of your arms as you hang, you should only have to drop two or three feet before reaching water, and then maybe another two feet to the floor under it.  It looks forgiving enough—the moonlight shines and the stream is clear and you can mainly just see sand at the bottom, no sharp rocks or other potential dangers to be found.  This… this is doable.

Okay.  If you pull this off, you’re a badass.  If you don’t break any bones or seriously injure yourself in any way, you deserve some kind of commendation.  This is probably kiddie shit to Din, who keeps literal rockets strapped to his back and jumps out of ships flying thousands of feet above the ground, but this is a challenge for you and you’re feeling just excited enough to be up to it.

You’re eventually able to climb onto the thickest, sturdiest branch you can see that happens to hang over the water, straddling it and beginning to scoot.  Your thighs are killing you at this point but you’re holding deathly tight to the wood, your movements becoming more and more cautious the further away from the trunk you get.

You’re directly above the water now, but you need to go out a little further.  Aim for right in the middle so you don’t accidentally leave any tracks or prints on the shoreline if you need to catch yourself.  The unfamiliar wood in this forest is admittedly sturdy, but the branch begins to subtly sag with your weight as you keep slowly scooting forward, and you’re just about to the correct spot when—

Day 1–12:00am:

“Sweet girl.”

—You nearly fucking fall.

“Maker,” you gasp, suddenly scrambling to catch yourself on the branch before you can plummet.  It creaks and groans under your weight but supports you nonetheless, and when you’re one hundred percent certain it isn’t going to break, you jerk your head down to the communicator and see that it’s midnight, on the dot.

Shit.

Your heart slams against your ribs and your arms shake with adrenaline while you study it for just a moment longer, trying to calm the fuck down.

“Hey,” Din’s voice comes sharply from your wrist, crackling and tinny through the comm, nearly scaring you again.  “Answer me.”

You don’t want to sacrifice your grip right now, but you have no doubt he’ll fly the Crest out to you if you don’t respond.  So you quickly let go to press a button on the front face and then latch onto the branch tight once more, raising your voice because you can’t risk bringing your wrist up to your mouth to speak.  You hope he’ll be able to hear without the microphone picking up the sound of the stream below.  “Uh.  Ahem.  Hello.  Yes?”

“You’re too quiet,” Din’s disembodied voice immediately informs you.  “Or something on your side is too loud.  There’s an earpiece built into the side of the communicator, take it out and use it instead.”

You study the wrist brace without moving, until you finally see what he’s talking about.  It’s a small, wireless piece of machinery hidden on the left side of the electronic display, and you quickly pop it out and stuff it into your ear just in time to hear the sound of hydraulics clanging through the speaker as you clutch the branch again.  You’d know that sound anywhere, it’s the ramp of the hull closing.

“Are you already on the move?”  You ask him incredulously, your thighs starting to go numb with how deathly tight you’ve been squeezing this tree.

“Can’t sleep,” Din murmurs, sounding so much closer and deeper than before.  Does he have his earpiece on under the helmet or something?  Stars, is that why his voice sounds that good?  It’s like it’s coming from inside your own head, bassy and rough.  “Ready or not.”

You huff, your tummy going warm.  Of course he can’t sleep, of course he’s going to look for you as soon as he’s allowed to.  If he waited until morning, you’d probably be slightly offended.  You try to slow your heart rate into something acceptable, but being this far above water and hearing his baritone murmur directly in your ear make it difficult.  “But I’m… sleepy.”

“You’re always sleepy,” he tells you, and though you can’t actually hear him walking, the sound of his footsteps shake through his voice just slightly as he speaks.

“Hang on,” you huff, ducking your head to drag it against your shoulder, keeping the sweat from your eyes without using your hands, “you’re gonna make me stay up all night just because you do?  This isn’t fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules.”

Well.  Fair.

Stars, you can’t stay here.  You don’t know how long he wants to check-in for, but you’re also not confident with this branch’s ability to hold you for an extended time when you’re this far out from the trunk.  You need to get in that stream one way or another, but now that he’s here, you have an extra problem.  Din is going to hear you no matter what.

“Um.  Can you give me a second?”  You ask him, glancing around to make sure there’s no better way of doing this.  Nope, you realize very quickly—this is the best idea you’ve got, and you don’t really know what that says about the quality of all your other ideas.

“What?”  Din grunts shortly, but you just clear your throat.

“I need to… mute myself.  Give me like… five minutes.”

“What are you talking abou—”

“You of all people cannot be upset about asking for five minutes of quiet,” you return testily, looking down at the distance to the stream once more.  That’s a long way.  You… you can’t swim obviously, but again, the water doesn’t look too deep.  Just a couple feet likely, shouldn’t go past your knees.

It’s fitting that he doesn’t say anything, which you eventually take as disgruntled acceptance, so you quickly press the proper button on your wrist to silence the mic and then take a few deep breaths.  You have a time limit now, you have to do this.

With incredible patience and precision, you eventually slide until you’re clutching the branch upside down like an only slightly quicker and less coordinated sloth, before slowly dropping your legs and hanging over the water.

It’s… admittedly a bit further down than you anticipated, or maybe that’s just you making things worse than they actually are, but you’re committed at this point and there’s no going back.

You close your eyes, count to three, and then you let go.

The sandy floor meets your feet with considerable force and you make a hell of a splash doing it, nearly falling but just barely managing to keep yourself balanced and upright at the last second.  The water is cool and comes up just over your knees, your backpack miraculously didn’t get wet and all your limbs remain shaky but unbroken.

Okay.  Okay, fucking success.  It feels… thrilling, accomplishing a dangerous feat, and you quickly let out a loud whoop before clearing your throat, trying to sound normal as you press a button on the communicator’s face once more.

“Mando?”  You ask, slightly out of breath.  “Sorry about that, I’m back.”

Okay, now which way do you go?  Downstream seems like the easier path after getting in so much unexpected exercise, so that’s the one you go with.  As soon as you lift your foot from the sand bed, you watch your footprint almost immediately disappear through the moonlit water, and you bite your lip at just how well everything turned out for you.

After a moment though, you realize he hasn’t answered you.  You look down at the communicator again to make sure you pressed the right thing.  “Hello?  Shiny?”

“Did you trade shoes with someone?”  Din’s voice suddenly comes through the earpiece, sounding absolutely incredulous.

“Shit,” you tell him, trying not to smile.  “Hoped that was gonna buy me more time.”

“It… might’ve, if you kept walking in the same direction as they were,” he informs you after a moment.  “Your shoes went south, but this other pair got all the way out here just to turn back around again?  Good idea, but the execution needs work.”

Maker, he’s smart.  It was the first attempt at a footprint change so you weren’t thinking much beyond tricking the tracking mechanism in his helmet, you ignored his logic completely.  Essentially, the exact opposite of what he told you to do.  You like to think you’re getting better at it by this point, thinking beyond just the original exchange, and you’re hoping you’ll be able to trick him with at least one of the other fifty times you changed shoes today.  You’ll have to see tomorrow night, if you can make it that long.

Also, the road you were on apparently goes north-south, that’s important information you make sure to take note of.  The man in Osiruu said Devain and Nariss are to the east, and that Sijua and G’ila are westward, right?  Remembering that you thought south was west earlier, you do some quick calculating and immediately come to a stop in the moving water as soon as you figure out your positioning, turning around and walking upstream instead.

You want to go to Nariss.  The capital, and the biggest city in walking distance.  Smart quarry go to populated places, places that make it nearly impossible to find people.

“Alright.  Mando: one, Me: zero,” you finally acknowledge, swinging your backpack around and unzipping it to dig inside for another piece of fruit.  You’ve been hungry for hours but had to use both hands to stay safe and far above the ground, it’s the perfect time to eat.  “How’s the baby?  Behaving himself?”

“He kept trying to follow you after you left,” comes Din’s response, and you stop with just your teeth piercing the flesh, wondering if you heard him right.  You actually open your jaw and pull the fruit away with just a bite mark in it.

“You’re joking.”  No fucking way, not that little demon.

“Wish I was,” he tells you solemnly.  “Made a fuss, tried to open the ramp a few times.  Didn’t cause any trouble after, just… pouted.”

That’s… that’s exactly how he responded the very first time Din left the kid on the ship with you instead of bringing him along.  He threw a fit, tried to ditch you for his dad multiple times, and then ultimately just looked cute and mopey with his limp ears until Din came back.  Do you think it’s just him rebelling against change?  That has to be it, right?

“He better not be giving you any hints about where I am,” you warn his father.  “I’d tell you to put him on but I don’t want the earpiece getting lost forever.”

You hear it.  The softest laugh—barely a breath, coming after years of learning to make it just quiet enough not to be registered by the helmet.  It gets picked up by the communicator in all its understated beauty when normally it’d be silent, and it’s just jarring enough to make you careless.

On your next step, you accidentally lift your foot too high and make a splash, and you already know you fucked up before he can say a single word.

“What’s that sound?”

You immediately stop moving, allowing the cool water to move as silently as possible past your stationary knees.  Shit.  “Uh.  What sound?”

You think he purposefully doesn’t say anything.  Probably because it feels a little like cheating, doesn’t it?  It’s to your disadvantage, having him be able to catch hints from your environment when he’s the one who made check-ins mandatory, but then again… how smart do you think he is?  Something tells you that he might not need to track you at all—what are the chances he stumbles upon this little stream and just naturally assumes you were clever enough to use it to hide your trail?  Did you waste time trying to engineer a vanishing act when it’s not going to matter regardless?

Oh well, too late now.  You quickly decide to change the subject.

“You should try the big purple fruit that one vendor sells when you get into Osiruu, by the way,” you tell him pleasantly, taking a big chomp out of it and then letting out an extended hum of delight that only really fucking good food or sex causes a person to make.  “I’m eating one right now, it’s so good.  Be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

“Mm.  Doubt it,”  immediately comes his low response.  Fucking immediately.

“Mando,” you gasp, scandalized and giddy enough that juice dribbles down your chin a bit.

“Are you having fun?”  Din asks, instead of pushing the conversation any further in that direction.  You don’t know if you’re thankful or disappointed with how quickly he decided to abort, but you take a moment to consider his question while swallowing and wiping your mouth.  Not the answer, you know the answer—but why he bothered to ask.  Did he know you were going to enjoy yourself as much as you have?  Your only possible lament is how you’re talking to him through a communicator instead of having him next to you.

“I am,” you say warmly.  “Be… be better if you were here, though.”

“Give me your coordinates,” Din proposes, and his voice is just low and rumbly enough to make you pause.

You’re really, really proud of yourself for only considering it for a few seconds before scoffing.  “Psh.  Nice try.”

“Was worth a shot,” he sighs through the earpiece, and you smile, taking another bite of fruit.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you offer, grinning at the implication.

“We’ll see,” you hear him return, and though his tone doesn’t really change, you know he’s probably rolling his eyes.  He won’t have to ask for your coordinates because he’ll already be there, but it’s nice to pretend for a while longer.

And then you both walk all through the night, sharing casual banter with each other for hours.  He never once implies he wants to disconnect, even when you hit him with more nonsensical questions—

“What’s your favorite food?”  (“I don’t have one.”)

“Okay, well what about just a food that you like?”  (“I don’t like food that much.”)

“What do you mean?  Everyone loves food.”  (“Not me.”)

“Alright, well um.  What’s your favorite color, then?”  (“I don’t have one, either.”)

“Come on, you must have some kind of color you like.”  (“What’s your favorite color?”)

“…Brown.”  (“Then that’s my favorite, too.”)

—until the sun rises and you both say your goodbyes.

***

Day 1–6:15am:

You resolve to waiting until you see another person to allow your feet to touch dry land, figuring the longer you stay untraceable, the better off you’ll be.  Your toes are wrinkly and your pantlegs and shoes have been drenched for hours, but then you finally spot a few fishermen standing upstream with their backs to you, speaking to each other in the dawning light.  Two look to be full-grown, but there’s a smaller one in the middle, maybe a teenage boy, and you pause for a second, looking at the riverbank next to them.  All their valuables—water, food, bait, extra rods, but also… their shoes.

Quietly, you reach into your backpack and remove the pair of men’s shoes you bought earlier.  The ones closest to you on the shore seem to be the smallest, so you sneak over as silent as possible and rapidly make an exchange, fitting the new ones on your wet feet before allowing yourself to touch dry land and then speed walking away.

The ones you left him are newer and roughly the same size anyways—yikes, maybe slightly smaller now that you’re thinking about it—but at least you have a back pathing.  If that kid decides to take your offering and the shoes fit, Din will follow him, and if he decides to go barefoot instead, he should still follow him, right?  You’re not really aiming to trick him outright, mostly you just want him to waste more and more time.  This likely wouldn’t work if there wasn’t a time limit attached to this hunt, but you’re going to do everything you can to disappear while he’s still far enough behind you.

***

Day 1–7:06am:

You get to Devain remarkably quickly after finding the correct road.  The pit stop is much bigger than Osiruu, big enough to call an actual town instead of just a settlement, but still not large enough to feel concealed.  You want a city.  This place at least has cars and ships moving about and overhead respectively, but you’re looking for somewhere with lines.  Somewhere that feels as cramped and busy as possible.

Still, you find a restroom to use and then decide to grab some more food for your trip, happily spotting your new favorite purple fruit in one of the shop windows.  As you’re reaching out to hand the storekeeper the appropriate amount of credits, Din’s gruff voice comes through the earpiece so suddenly that you jump, nearly dropping them all on the counter.  “Hey.”

“Holy shit, what?”  You gasp, earning a confused look from the lady in front of you.  You quickly shake your head at her and mouth an apology while Din grumbles in vexation.

“You were supposed to stay on foot.”

Ah.  So he got to the bus, then.  Okay.

“Oh,” you answer ambiguously, exchanging the money for your bag of food and giving her a polite smile.  Din stays completely mute while you grab your snack, stuffing the rest of the goods in your backpack and then turning to leave—mute for so long that you have to double check you didn’t accidentally do it yourself.

“…Smart girl,” you finally hear him say.  Quietly muttered under his breath, half proud of you and half frustrated for making his job more difficult.  “Which one of these is yours then?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you announce, before taking a large bite as you leave the establishment and talking with your mouth full.  “You really gotta try the purple fruit, it’s great.”

The communicator abruptly clicks to silence on his end without anything else and you laugh so unexpectedly that a few pieces of it fly out of your mouth.

***

Day 1–1:32pm:

Somewhere miles away from you, Din jerks to a halt in the middle of a forest.

He looks around the dirt floor, walks a few paces and hears the kid coo gently from his cradle.  Behind the visor, the red footprints he’s circling are the last ones around for hundreds of meters, as far as his display can read.

His helmet slowly tilts upwards, and follows the endless maze of thick branches overhead.

With the beskar hiding his face, no one can see the way he slowly breaks into a beautiful grin.

***

Day 1–9:51pm:

Oh.  Oh stars, you’re tired.

You’ve been walking all day without really seeing anything, not having any place to disguise your tracks in the wide open plains.  You could’ve stuck to the road, but you started to feel the exhaustion creep in during the early afternoon and you wanted to be far away from other travelers and potential danger if you needed to rest.  You knew this would be a long journey when you left Devain earlier—over a day’s walk, a group of children told you���you even tried skipping or jogging a bit to see if that would inspire more energy in you, but it didn’t help much.

The large cup of caf you bought while in town was drained hours ago and it didn’t help much either, probably because your exhaustion is more physical and not necessarily mental.  It just felt like a sweet warm drink to sip before you go to sleep, that’s how much the caf helped.  Still, you kept walking, kept moving forward even as you squinted in the setting sun, your feet aching from traveling for this long wearing unfamiliar shoes.  The last time you changed them was hours ago, pulling another bus maneuver but with an air shuttle instead.  Still, you don’t think it’ll be enough.  You don’t even know where Din is but you already feel like you’re losing ground just knowing that he’s the one in pursuit.

You feel it—the hair standing up on your neck, the tingles in your hands, the stirring of your tummy—whatever the incessant gogogo that your instincts happen to scream when you’re in first place but you know the person behind you is quickly closing in.  It’s day fucking one, it’s day one and you feel him in the wind as it brushes through your hair, you can’t even pause to rest because nobody knows better than you that he’s an absolute fucking machine when he wants to be.  The kid may have powers beyond that which can be explained by the laws of nature, but Din is a force all his own.  He drives you forward when everything inside you is telling you to stop.  He keeps you awake and determined when you just desperately need to rest.

But that only goes so far.  You’re bordering on two full days without sleep, and though you’d normally be able to suffer through, the constant movement is just brutal after being confined to a stationary ship for so long.

There’s a lone tree in the distance, you think.  It’s hard to see.  Not because it’s dark—well it is, just a bit darker tonight compared to last, but mostly because your eyelids have grown heavier and more burdensome than the bag around your shoulders.  That looks like a good place to just sit for a second, right?  Maybe eat some more food, try and wake yourself up?  Yeah, that’s a good idea, you’ll head towards the tree and just… sit…

***

Day 2–12:00am:

Completely dead to the galaxy and sitting on your ass with your back against rough bark, the comm clicks and Din’s voice comes through the earpiece.

“Wake up.”

It startles you enough to make you lurch forward and jerk your head around in a panic, looking for any flash of beskar so you can instantly break opposite to it.  You scramble on all fours to look around but you don’t see anything, not even behind the trunk when you crawl, and then you take a deep breath and use the bone of your wrists to rub your eyes vigorously after a moment, knowing your hands are filthy.  “Fuck, how’d you—”

“You’re always sleepy,” Din repeats, and you collapse back into the tree with an exhausted groan, not entertained but not even having the energy to get mad about it.

“I… I gotta sleep,” you tell him, already feeling your body let go of its tension and search for the darkness of unconsciousness once more.  “Shit.  How d’you… mm.  Stay awake all the time…”

“Sleep,” Din encourages, you can still hear him walking.  “You need rest.  I’ll see you soon.”

No—

“No,” you whine like a child, moaning and shoving yourself upright.  Maker, you’re trying to focus, but asking that of yourself is almost impossible right now.  Everything swims—you were dreaming, you think, but you can’t remember and it’s not important other than to emphasize how woozy you are.  Things still feel like a dream, somehow.

You think he can hear your struggling through the comm, because the sound of his footsteps pause.  “Go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep,” you tell him bluntly, giving your head a violent shake to try and wake you up.  You want to slap your own cheek but you don’t want him to hear it.  “I can’t sleep if you don’t.”

“I’ve have at least a couple more days in me before that happens,” Din murmurs, and you bet he knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing to you.  You start to slouch, hearing the voice he uses when he’s curled around your body in the darkness of the hull.  So warm, so gentle.  If you use your imagination, you can feel his fingers drawing slow circles on your back, the vibration of his low voice rumbling against your ear as you lay your head on his chest.  “If I hunt you the way I’d hunt a quarry, I’m going to find you before you wake up.”

“Then I’ll jus’ have to… not let tha’ happen,” you slur.  Even this close to unconsciousness, you try your best to throw in a misdirect.  “Already… paid for the bed an’ everything.”

“Sure you did.  You in another tree?”

You immediately frown even as your eyes drop closed, too tired to fight but still managing to sound upset.  “You makin’ fun of me?”  You ask him with a harumph.  Genuinely, you’re not smart enough to figure it out right now.

“Not hardly,” Din sighs, sounding… you don’t know.  Is that displeasure or not?  It’s not immediately clear.  Does it sound that way because you’re just dumb stupid right now?  Or because Din can’t actually decide how he feels about it?  “Lucky I heard water over the comm last night, I would’ve wasted hours in that forest.”

“Noooo,” you whine in response, trying to push yourself off the tree but tipping sideways in the process, “that’s not fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules,” he repeats himself again and… nope, you don’t even have the energy to snark something back.  You just grumble your best imitation of him while you do everything you can to heave yourself upright.  It’s pitiful, you lose your balance not even halfway through and just plop on the grass for a second and groan.

“Stop,” Din eventually orders through the earpiece, tired of it.  “What’s sixteen times itself?”

You’re loopy to the point where you don’t even question why he decided to ask you that.  You just furrow your brows for a second and try to think about it, before suddenly realizing you… don’t know, you can’t remember.  Multiplication tables and squares up to twenty are elementary to you, you know them by heart.  Sixteen times sixteen.  One forty-four.  No… no that doesn’t sound right, is that twelv—

You take way too long answering what would’ve been an immediate response two days ago.

“I’ll stop here for tonight,” Din tells you with a resolved sigh.  “I won’t move until you wake up.  Go to sleep.  You’re putting yourself in danger, you can’t even do the basics.”

Later, this moment will come back to you.  That problem isn’t basic, not many adults would be able to tell you very quickly that the answer is two fifty-six.  You don’t even think Din would.  You would, though.  On Naboo, you used rapidly applied trigonometry in your head to find his location, and that was barely two minutes after waking up.  You should know this.  And he knows you.

But for right now, you don’t pay it a single lick of attention.

“You promise?”  You ask quietly, voice incredibly small as your head tilts back towards the sky, already feeling yourself beginning to fall back into the darkness again.

“I promise,” he vows in return, gentle but a promise nonetheless.  He doesn’t have to do this.  You wouldn’t be able to keep going even if he didn’t offer up this temporary truce, but knowing he isn’t currently gaining ground on you makes the idea of sleep so much more welcoming, something you want to seek out instead of fight.

“Will you, um…” your expression furrows.  How do you say this?  You sigh, giving up before even trying to figure it out.  “I’m… not in a bed.  I’m outside.”

Din doesn’t say anything when you pause, and even through the haze wanting to take over, you know it’s going to sound needy.  You want him to stay.  Even in the midst of an adventure, you want him to stay, you want to hear him breathe as you rest, but there’s not really an integrous way to ask.

You don’t need to ask.

“I’ll keep the comm open and wake you when the sun rises,” comes his lulling baritone before you can elaborate anymore, enveloping you in comfort in this dreadfully uncomfortable bed of grass and dirt.  “Sleep, sweet girl.  I’m right here.”

***

Day 2–5:34am:

The sun shines over the hills and you lift your head up to squint your eyes at it, confused as fuck.  Looking down at your wrist to check the time in the warm rays, hands and clothes dirty from laying on the ground that long—you stay groggy and clueless for just a moment longer, before your heart lurches when you remember Din’s promise to you.

You open your mouth to address him but then catch yourself just in time.  Wait.  Don’t panic.  Listen.

Breathing.  Slow and relaxed through the earpiece, a rhythm now branded into your memory from months of nights spent in pitch black.  He’s… asleep.

Din is asleep?  Seriously?

You can count like… twice that this has happened, and one of those was because he got you to touch him just right after closing up a wound on his back, and his body couldn’t handle the strain and passed out.  You’re never awake when he’s asleep—you’re just not, it doesn’t happen.  Din… sleeps like it’s just a choice for him, he doesn’t ever really need it.  Almost like how he used to eat before he started sharing meals with you, he said he doesn’t even like food that much.  You think he just severed all of those things long ago, things that are basic fundamentals of survival and operated like a bounty droid that lost its voice box.  It’s… nice, feeling like you’re somehow giving back some of the things he lost.  Unintentionally encouraging him to find sleep again.  Making sure he eats more, listening to him speak.

You struggle to your feet as quietly as possible, hearing him continue to breathe slow and relaxed through the communicator.  This isn’t purposeful, you don’t think he actually allowed it.  He promised you, and Din doesn’t take shit back.  If he tells you he’ll do something and he doesn’t follow through, it’s either out of his control or a mistake, it’s never been purposeful.  He didn’t mean to fall asleep.

And, in other circumstances, you most definitely would not find some way to take advantage of this.  You’d let him sleep and do other things in the meantime—make some food for you and the kid, find something on the Crest that isn’t spotless and clean until it is, or just… lay there next to him until he woke up.  But… these circumstances are their own.  You have to capitalize now, this is your chance.  You passed out last night around… ten pm, you think it was, and then he promised to stop at midnight.  That means you have to walk at least two hours before he wakes up if you want to prevent any loss of ground—you don’t know where he stopped, he could be a few miles back even.

You have to find Nariss—you have to.  It’s your only option, if you keep trying to run, it’s just going to make it so much easier for him.  Now is the time to hide.  You know it hasn’t been long, it’s barely been two days since you first left the Crest but it feels like you’re already in endgame, already making moves in self-defense instead of actually planning your maneuvers ahead of time.

The capital should be half a day’s walk from here, then.  As long as you get there, you think you’ll be okay.

***

Day 2–8:28am:

Din’s groan suddenly comes through your ear.

You immediately stop, seeing a busy road in the distance and glad you haven’t quite made it there yet, before trying to disguise your voice as drowsy.  “Mm?”

“Shit,” he breathes, and you hear him get up, the sound of beskar moving as he grunts.

“Mpph,” you groan back, squinting your eyes to see if that’ll help sell the act.  “I thought you… Mando, fuck, y’said you’d wake me when the sun came up.”

“I… fell asleep,” he admits, voice rough with it, sounding just as confused as you felt earlier.

“You said you had days in you before that happened,” you murmur, taking a deep breath and stretching your arms up above your head.  Stars, your back hurts, how does he possibly manage to carry a fucking jet pack around all the time?

“Yeah, I…”  He pauses for a moment and you bite your lip, not liking the quiet as soon as you hear it.  “How long have you been up?”

Op.  Not good.  “Wha?”

He’s not falling for it.  “How long?”

How in Maker’s name?  This is impossible.  How can you hope to hide from him when you can’t even manage to hide the smallest fucking truth from him?  Can you salvage this somehow?  “…Like ten minutes.”

“Least a few hours, then,” he sighs, and you get ready to hit him with the same line he used when you complained about his leg-up, opening your mouth as soon as you hear him speak.  “That was smar—”

“Fair wasn’t part of—”

Oh.  Well.  Apparently you didn’t have a reason to feel shitty about deciding to haul ass while he was passed out even though you kind of ended up doing so anyways.  There was no agreement besides that he wouldn’t move until you woke up.  Reason is on your side, but it still feels a bit like you fucked him over.  Is that valid or are you just so used to being nice that putting yourself first feels like a wrong you’ve committed?

“Don’t feel bad,” Din tells you, and you hear a soft coo in the background.  It makes you smile the smallest bit, your shoulders relaxing even as they ache from carrying your pack around.  “You should feel bad about stealing that poor kid’s shoes, though.  He walked home barefoot.”

You smack your forehead.  “It was just….”

“Yeah,” he scoffs when you don’t finish your sentence, and you can’t keep back a giggle.  “Alright, I’m up now.  See you when you get here.”

And then the communicator clicks, and you’re…

Uh.  What the fuck was that?

No.  Nope, you’re not going to get played.  That was a brilliant attempt at fucking with you, but you’re not falling for it this time.  You’ve grown since that night on Canto Bight, you know him, he can’t just say shit to fuck with your head and then smile at your flailing response from under the helmet anymore.  You normally would stew in that last comment until it got to you, made you make a mistake most likely, but the more you think about it, the more certain you are that he has nothing.  He was just trying to see if you’ll abandon your entire plan just by implying he already knows it.  That’s beginner shit, you’re not falling for it.  Din wanted to leave the conversation with the upper-hand since you gained at least an hour of extra ground while he slept.  You’re certain of it.

***

Day 2–12:35pm:

Nariss is big.  Nowhere near the size of Coruscanti sectors of course, where billions of people are packed from surface to exosphere and require oxygen recirculation towers to breathe at the very top, but just slightly bigger than you expected.  It’s bustling and you haven’t even made it through the city gates yet—you’re approaching them and the large number of people waiting in line, seeing buildings stretch out for miles in front of you and grinning.  Yes, this will work nicely.

As you peek over shoulders in the sizable crowd, you see only two or three people allowing people to enter one at a time… is that a biometric scanner?

Oh.  That looks good and it also doesn’t look good at the same time.  If Din’s safety meant nothing to you, you’d have no trouble whatsoever getting in line and waiting to do a retinal scan, but you immediately pause and consider the potential consequences.

Your dumb ass almost weighs the option of clicking the communicator on and asking his opinion.  You’d give away your location in a heartbeat (if he doesn’t know it already) just because you’re worried he’d… what, exactly?  Stand in line for an hour, take his helmet off in front of a crowd of people, have the system ping his scan, and then hang out and wait for New Republic reinforcements to show?  You have to stop worrying about him.  He’s not a baby, he can handle himself and you need to stop considering the possibility of taking a loss just so he doesn’t have to, even if the self-destructive sentiment feels ingrained in your nature to do so.

So you wait in line, moving at a slow pace but at least moving.  While you’re standing there quietly, a man in front of you decides to strike up a conversation.  You don’t come from a place with an excess of people, but the ones in your sector were friendly and did this kind of thing often, so perhaps for that reason, you decide to chat.

“Do you have some place to stay?”  He asks at one point.  So far the conversation has revolved around him—every time he asks about you, you deflect.  He doesn’t need to know.  “Nariss isn’t kind to drifters.”

This catches your attention, though.  This is relevant.  “What does that mean?”

“It’s expensive?”  He scratches his blonde hair, giving you a soft smile.  “Food, housing, all of it is way out of my price-range.  I stay with my uncle and work overnights at the eastern docks.  It’s not much, but it’s enough to keep a roof over our heads.  We used to live in Gibrath, but then we moved to the city because he’s a good architect and they’re always expanding.  It’s nice, of course, but really expensive.”

He’s handsome, you think… in kind of a boyish, charming way.  Blonde hair, sparkly blue eyes.  He doesn’t look much older than you, and maybe in another lifetime you would’ve found him appealing, but… you like darker features, you think.  Someone a little less expressive.  This guy… talks a lot.

“I thought this moon was a safe world for people displaced by the Empire,” you offer, taking a step forward as the entire crowd shifts.

“Sanctuary II is,” he comments.  “The capital is safe, too—what, with all the orangies walking around,” he tilts his head to two jumpsuited guards trying to organize the glob of people so the line can move faster, rolling his eyes as if they’re some kind of joke.  “But not… welcoming, not if you’re looking for a place to settle.  You would’ve been better off in G’ila.”

“Is there anywhere you know that would take me for free?”  You ask.  You have quite a few credits left, but you don’t think it’s a good idea to stay in an inn.  It’ll be the first place Din checks.

“Are you a virgin?”  He returns, and you immediately pull back at the unexpected question, your heart thudding at the possibility of danger.  The man’s sandy eyebrows shoot up at your response and he quickly apologizes—“Heavens, I’m so sorry to ask like that!  It’s just… the only place I know is the Holy Keja Orphanage on the northern outskirts.  Their signs say they only house children and teenagers, but I’ve heard from other girls your age that they’ll accept any woman as long as they’ve stayed pure in the eyes of the Maker.”

“Oh,” you say after a moment, leaning sideways to see just a few people standing in front of him.  Good, this is almost over.  “Um.  Yep.  That’s me.”

He smiles at you once more, giving you a nod.  “When you get to the city, just go straight through.  It’s about a mile outside of the gates, no more than a day’s walk from this side of town.”

Okay, that’s… interesting.  You think about it while you thank him and begin to exchange polite goodbyes, moving up another step until he’s next in line.  That might actually be a good move.  Din could spend a long time in the city without ever finding you.  Smart quarry go to populated places, but… smarter quarry defy the expectations placed upon them, right?  He knows you’re smart, and even though you’re confident his “See you when you get here” was purely psychological fuckery, that also implies… at the very least, that he’s assuming there is a here to get to.  Meaning, he knows you’re not going into the wilderness to evade him.  He’s not going to comb the outskirts when there are so many places to hide within the city gates, with an entire perimeter of New Republic guards stationed around it.  Even if he does, the signs will say only children and teenagers—categories you do not fall into.

The unnamed man is soon ushered forward but you stop him quickly.  “Oh, by the way.  I doubt this will happen, but if a man in a big metal suit with a tiny green baby happen to ask you the same thing, please don’t tell him what you just told me.”

He furrows his eyebrows at you and cocks his head, but smiles and agrees nonetheless.

***

Day 2–5:43pm:

You have an idea.

You’ve been working on it all afternoon, but you were hit with it the second you were looking for another pair of shoes to buy and find a clever way of putting on.

The cheapest ones were ridiculously overpriced, blonde dude was right.  You blinked down at the tag and asked the salesman where the cheapest shoes in this part of town were, and then he just wrinkled his nose at you and shooed you out of the store.  Granted, you slept in dirt and spent two days walking—you bet you reek, but he didn’t have to be like that.

Though, the man’s displeasure with you had an upside.  You were holding a possible pair of pants and a shirt to buy when he threw you out, not yet having checked the atrocious pricetag on them, but it appeared as if he’d rather let you have them for free than rip them from your… admittedly, pretty filthy arms.  Oh well, you weren’t complaining.  Fancy clothes for free, score.

But now you’re here, and you have the best idea.  You don’t need to change shoes, not yet.  Why?  Because you’ve figured out how to turn your incessant detriment into an advantage.

You’re in the middle of downtown, you think, maybe just some random crowded square, and there’s an inn in front of you.  It’s fucking enormous, and you already know it’s gotta be incredibly expensive just looking at the sheer number of stories.  It’s an eyesore, it sticks out.  But that’s okay, because you’re only planning on staying for a night.

It’s also… right next to New Republic headquarters.  Or fuck, at least a station of some sort, because they’re swarming in and out of the constant crowd, passing by the valet doors.

At first you naturally wanted to steer away from the jumpsuits, since you know they’re bad news for Din, but then you remember what he said before you left.  I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it.  I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.

It’s to your advantage, he said so himself.  Everything lines up perfectly—the street is bustling, the inn is well protected, it’s nice—it’s everything you’re looking for.

And there’s another upside, see.  An omnipresent, omniscient ghost in the form of a communicator clipped to your wrist right now.  If Din is always going to be able to predict you, he’s always going to know when you’re lying, always be able to read you… then you’ll just have to let him.

Let him know.  Let him know exactly where you are.  Right in the middle of the most populated street you’ve seen thus far, a constant barrage of people walking by and New Republic officers patrolling.  If you were planning on staying in the city, this would probably be your best option to hide.  He could waste days here if you’re smart about it.

The concierge doesn’t appear too pleased with your lack of cleanliness and neither do you, honestly, but at least he allows you to book a suite for the night.  It’s… not as bad as you were originally assuming, credits-wise, but it’s worth more than half your stash and you’re going to have to conserve from this point on.  It shouldn’t be too bad—your destination is a holy orphanage, you’re sure they’ll have some extra food and a bed for you even if it won’t be ideal.  Still, you think you’re going to enjoy some lavish experiences for once in your life before you go.

***

Day 2–11:54pm:

Alright, so this was the best idea ever.  This is the shit.

You’re leaning back against a fluffy stack of pillows, squeaky clean from an absolutely glorious bath and watching the flickering drama on the large holonet display in front of you.  You don’t have any idea what’s going on, as it’s being broadcast in Rodian, but you haven’t been able to change the frequency because it’s so fucking intense—somebody’s sister is their mother, you think?  No, that must be a mistranslation, right?

You’re also in a robe.  Yes, there is a motherfucking robe in here.  And… and slippers, it’s like a dream.  Do people normally wear slippers in bed?  You do.  Hell, maybe you should stay here, screw the credits and the chase.  This mattress is even better than the one on Naboo and you’re basking in the luxury after being outdoors for so long.

The lights are off other than that and you’ve opened the drapes wide, knowing you’re on something like the fifteenth floor and nobody would be able to see you anyways.  You just like being able to turn your head and look out at the sky.  Violent and periwinkle tonight.  You wonder if he’s looking, too.

Luckily, you snap yourself back out of it and glance down at the time on your communicator, quickly pressing a button on the remote to mute the Rodian show and then opening the line the moment the hour changes.

Day 3–12:00am:

“Hiya, Shiny,” you say before anything else, laying back and running a few fingers through your damp hair.  Your eyes close against the flickering light, taking a slow, relaxed breath.  Maker, this feels nice.

“You sound happy,” Din comments.  Astute, you feel happy.  Well… you’d obviously feel happier if he was here.  Your eyes flick over to the open bathroom door, still steamy from your bubble bath earlier, imagining him walking through it completely naked and then climbing over you on the covers.  You can only really picture it from the neck down—no, hang on… you can see his shaggy brown curls, that one spot on his forehead you know, how his facial hair would be dark and frame his mouth.  No face, though.  Missing just one fraction of him from your imagination, feeling incomplete but also somehow… complete in a way.

“I feel better after sleeping last night,” you tell him, purposefully leaving out the softness of the sheets underneath you, the sheer comfort of all this extravagance.  You don’t need it, you’ll never need it, but it feels nice to have for once.

“I do, too,” he replies quietly, and your eyes flutter closed.  You… miss him.  This mattress would feel softer with him next to you.  He’d probably be able to translate this show for you, even though you already know he’d fucking hate it.  You can imagine it—you with your eyes closed, him propped up on an elbow next to you and grumbling vague descriptions of the nonsense happening on screen just to hear your chuckles.  Adventures are great, but maybe they aren’t as great by yourself, you think.

“You should sleep tonight, too,” you encourage, but he scoffs.

“Not a chance,” Din mutters.  “Oh, before I forget, we need to charge the communicators today.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”  You ask him, glancing at all the multiple wireless charging outlets stationed around you.  “I’m in the middle of nowhere.”

He doesn’t even take a fucking second before responding.  “Good one.”

You grin up at the ceiling, warmth flooding you.  You love him.  Literally every single time, he just knows.  Your curiosity is too overwhelming after this happening so often.  Your plan to distract him relies on him being able to read you, but that doesn’t prevent you from wondering how he does it so accurately, time and time again.  “How do you know?”

“You slept outside last night,” he immediately tells you, like that should mean anything to you.

Does he… does he truly know you well enough to know how much your back and shoulders hurt today?  How much you were aching for a shower and clean clothes?  A bed to sleep on that isn’t dirt or metal?  You give into the accurate prediction with shameless honesty, not caring if he knows it’s the truth.

“This bed is soft,” you murmur gently, dragging your hand across the mattress next to you.  “You should be here.  I’d make you feel good.”

Admittedly, your comfort is making you a bit drowsy and you said it in the easiest way possible, but you didn’t necessarily mean it sexually.  Well… you sort of did—you’d make him feel so good in this bed—but what you meant was more… comforting.  He could take a bath, or a shower, and get all the grime off him.  He could feel clean and unburdened, take a break instead of constantly moving around.  The baby could have a whole bed to himself if he wanted, though you know he’d probably want to be on this one instead.  You could all look at the sky together.

Din is quiet for a little bit, before his voice comes back through the earpiece.  “Are you in an inn?”

“No,” you say, a little too quickly.  Perfect, that sounded just right for a lie.  You are lying, you absolutely are in an inn, the only difference is that you want him to catch on that it’s a lie, so… why does he take way too long before responding?

“Hm.”

What the fuck—why… how is it even physically possible?  He read you that deeply from one single word?  You’re not sure if he’s somehow psychic and figured the whole fucking thing out or if he just knows there’s something off, but it’s still enough to blow you away.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”  You blurt without thinking.

“Doing what?”  He grunts, sounding like he’s stepping over something, his breath changing intensity as he walks.

“If I look out this window right now, am I gonna see you standing out there just messing with me?”  You don’t even know what to believe anymore.  How do you beat this?  If you don’t want him to know the truth, he’ll figure it out, and if you do want him to know the truth, he’ll still figure it out.  His perception is unbelievable.

After a moment of silence, he murmurs gently through the comm.  “I thought you said you were in the middle of nowhere.”  It sounds like he’s smiling.

“I…”  your eyes shift around awkwardly, “am…”

Din lets out a deep sigh.  He’s right, that was bad, even for you.  “I found your bed a few hours ago,” he admits.  You close your eyes as you listen to him make his way closer to you, step by step.  “I’m nowhere near the city yet.  You have time to sleep.”

Your expression furrows and you frown.  “Why are you helping me?”

“Why do you want me to think you’re in an inn?”  He tosses back, and you huff.

“Because I’m trying to outsmart you but you make it really fucking difficult,” you grumble, not happy about him catching on so quick.

“You’ve also gained about four hours on me since we started.”  His voice is gruff.  You don’t know if he thinks it’s a good thing or a bad thing.  “You should give yourself more credit.  I thought I would’ve found you by now, never expected you to get all the way to Nariss.  It’s… not good for me.”

The honesty creeping in makes you go soft.  It makes you want to reciprocate, even if it’s dumb and you haven’t thought it all the way through.  “Wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me.”  His voice is a bed all its own, deep and gentle and safe.

You say it before you lose the nerve.  “I might just turn around and walk back.”

His footsteps stop and you hear a small sound in the background, a quiet little baby noise that suddenly makes your heart ache.  You’re comfortable but incredibly aware of how alone you are.  People pass by on the streets below, cars and hoverbikes honk in the distance and you’re by yourself.  For the first time in over a year, like you have been for years, you’re by yourself.

“Sweet girl,” Din sighs, and all of a sudden… you can feel his arms around you with it.  You feel so… known, somehow.  Every sentiment you could’ve possibly given in your last sentence, he relays his understanding back with his.  He makes you feel loved with it.  “Never wants to run.”

You don’t say anything, because you suddenly realize you’re totally fucking whipped, up down and sideways for his metal ass and the little floating grimlin that follows him around, and you would throw away the fifth quarry, adventure, the sky—literally everything if you could be with the both of them right now.

But again.  You don’t have to say anything, he already knows.  “Give me your coordinates.”

Your eyes pop open and you bite your lip.  Oh, stars.  You hate that you do genuinely consider it.  He could be here, and very soon.  With the jet pack, both of them could be here in less than an hour, probably.  He could take a shower.  Watch these stupid shows with you all night without needing to be on the move, help you build a bed of pillows for the kid on top of this one.  You could be with both of them again, even if it’s only for a little while.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you finally whisper, looking down at the soft white fabric of your robe, the way one of your slippers is falling off your foot as the holonet program continues to play on mute.

Din’s footsteps eventually start up again, and you both relax in silence together.  You, squinting at the screen because your eyes are getting heavy; him, continuing to travel step by step and gain ground on you.  Let him come.  You’ll be long gone by the time he even makes it to the gates.

It’s been about ten minutes of shared, quiet existence before you hear him bite into something and chew, and your face suddenly lights up.

“Are you eating the purple fruit?”  You ask, your slipper falling off with excitement.  You don’t know why, but it’s like… you’re stoked for him.  Just as proud of him for doing normal things as he does when you step out of your own comfort zone.  You like to think you’re both better that way.  Balanced.

“Mm,” Din replies with his mouth full, and you grin down at your bare legs peeking through the robe while he swallows.

“Is it not the best thing you’ve ever tasted?”  Your voice goes a little breathless with it, and you hear his footsteps stop once more.

“Close,” Din murmurs lowly, sending a small shudder through you.  It suddenly feels a bit warm in here, doesn’t it?  This morning was one of the rare times you were awake while he was asleep… it’s almost always the other way around, and just from the implication in his tone, you’re reminded of the thing he likes doing most when you’re resting.  Maybe he’ll let you do it to him, next time around.  The thought gets you hot enough to warrant the other slipper falling to the floor.

“You’re alone, right?”  You whisper, knowing he must’ve pulled the helmet up to take a bite of the fruit.  He must still be following your path through the hillside, then, not yet reaching the road.

“The kid is awake,” Din tells you, sounding like he’s trying to stop everything before anything starts.  His words are short and clear in their meaning, but…

This has a very small chance of success, you already know.  “…Do you want to—”

“No,” he responds quickly, already way ahead of you.  “We can’t.”

Something in his voice… you don’t know, there’s just something there that makes you feel just a little reckless.  Should you push it?  You’re by yourself in this suite, what can go wrong?

“You can’t,” you correct him quietly, shifting around on the bed just a bit and biting your lip.  It’s a thrill—being able to tease him without having him in front of you, drive him crazy knowing you’re just out of his reach.  “But I can do whatever I want, can’t I?”

There’s a pause, a tense and knowing silence suspended between you before he eventually speaks.

“I’d be real careful,” Din mutters low in warning, but what is he gonna do?

“What are you gonna do?”  You whisper to him devilishly.  Quiet and breathy, beginning to snake your hand down.  Stars, your heart is already pounding.  You’d only likely mouth off like this in person just to see how hard he’d fuck you, but this feels extra dangerous for some reason.  He’s stuck, he can’t do anything about it right now, and you know it’s playing with fire.  “You could hang up if you don’t want to hear me.  Or you could find me before I’m finished.  Come make me stop.”

Din doesn’t say anything but he very much does not hang up, nor does he come busting into your room like you imagine he’d like to.  The sheer fact that your door is still closed and locked tells you for sure that he isn’t just hanging out in the hallway, just letting you have your fun.

You start pressing your fingers against your robe at the apex of your thighs, humming at how nice the pressure feels.  You don’t even spread your legs or push the fabric away, you just sigh into it and wiggle your hips a bit, pressing hard against your clit and listening to him breathe.

“Do you want to listen?”  You ask quietly after a moment, and Din still doesn’t respond.  Likely because there’s not a real answer, both yes and no would imply the wrong thing.  “I’ll talk.”

Still, nothing from him.  Dead silence through the comm.  You’re starting to understand.  For two days, you’ve felt like he could read your every thought just by the cadence of your voice.  He’s staying quiet so you can’t even attempt to do the same to him—if he doesn’t talk, you can’t find a weakness and pounce on it, you can’t feel any more confident or reassured about your own ability to read him.

You’ll just have to push a little harder, then.

“Hm.  If only this fancy communicator could…” you pause to look down at your wrist for a second, studying the menu.  You don’t think you’ve ever really looked at it, you never had the time.

Din’s growl is sudden and sharp through the earpiece.  “No, don’t even think—”

“Ah,” you smile, tapping the face and immediately finding the correct screen.  “Take pictures.”

He’s deadly quiet for a moment, and you bite your lip with excitement.  When he does speak, his voice is a pure threat, chilling you to the bone as much as it burns deep in your tummy.  “…You wouldn’t.”

Ignoring him, you suddenly locate a menu option that sounds phenomenal right now.  “Oh shit, does this holocall?  Or is it a video option?”

“Holo,” he says very seriously while you study the lack of complexity of the built-in camera in skepticism, “and the kid is awake, so you can’t—”

“Oh, it’s definitely a video,” you unclip it from your wrist and he curses as you sit up, and then you press a button and wait impatiently for him.  “Pick up.”

Din takes forever before responding, and you hear the continuous beeps as it attempts to connect, before his quiet baritone rumbles in your ear.  “What if I don’t?”

You feel your mouth pull down at the corners, not so much frowning as you are dubious.  He’s going to turn down the opportunity to see you and your surroundings when his whole goal is locating you?  Really?

“You sure?”  You ask softly, raising an eyebrow.  “You’d get to see me, where I am.  What I’m…” your eyes dip down to the loose robe riding your curves, your skin glowing against the white fabric, “…wearing.”

The beeps continue on for a few more seconds, until they finally stop.  You frown down at the black screen of the communicator, not seeing anything at all.  Did he decline the transmission request?  No… there’s a little red light next to the small lens that wasn’t there before.  Why can’t you see him?

“Why can’t I see you?”  You ask.  You want to look at him looking at you, you don’t want to always be stuck on the other side of a one-way mirror.

“I… have it linked to my helmet, but it only has a front-facing camera,” Din tells you after a moment, and he sounds… slightly out of breath.  “Easier to see, the watch is useless now besides the controls.”

Wait, does that mean you’re… being shown on the inner-display of his helmet instead of his wrist?  Right in front of his eyes, as if he were actually here with you?

“Nobody can see me but you?”  You clarify, and when he doesn’t respond, you bite your lip and lean back into the pillows.  You lift the watch up slightly, extending your arm out until you can get the angle as wide as possible.  “Can you see… this?”  You ask softly, before hooking your fingers in the collar of your white robe and slowly pulling it open for him.

“Where are you?”  Din asks instead, and you hear his footsteps through the earpiece, as if he’s walking away from something very quickly.

You don’t answer him, parting the soft fabric until your breasts are completely exposed and you sigh, closing your eyes and snuggling back into the pillows once more.  “I’ll tell you where I am if you keep watching me.”

“Why?”  Din grits in frustration, coming back around to the same dangerous question he had earlier.  “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know.”  You slowly tilt the camera down until you can spread your legs and the robe falls open with the movement, letting him see your pussy peeking through in the flickering light of the muted screen in front of your bed.  “Can you see that?”

“Yeah,” he says shakily on the end of a breath, and you feel yourself get wet.  Fuck, he sounds so fucking tempted, the sight making his voice come without any of the self-assuredness as it usually has, but… he could also just be saying that.  How do you know he’s telling you the truth?

“What am I doing?”  You test him, lifting your knee just the slightest bit so you really give him something to look at.

“Spreading your legs for a camera,” Din responds without hesitation, voice scraping against your ear, making you shiver and your nipples harden.  Fuck, the way he says it, like it’s wrong and bad even though he’s the only one who can see or hear you do it… it makes you feel even more naughty and emboldened.

You bite your lip and reach your hand down to spread your lips for him, too, hearing his breath immediately catch on the other end.  Already your pussy makes your fingers slick against your soft skin, the sash of your robe still holding the fabric together on your body but also loose enough to allow it to part in the right places and reveal everything you want him to see.

“I am in an inn,” you whisper teasingly, letting your finger drop to brush against your clit and then sighing in soft delight.  Oh stars, that feels nice, it feels so good to treat yourself after being completely nomadic for two days, getting to be clean and soft and comfortable while you feel this pleasure, and Din’s voice growls through your communicator like you’re doing something painful to him.

“Fuck,” his breathing picks up while you begin circling your clit.  “Where?”

“Nariss,” comes your quiet moan, turning your head on the pillow to blink slowly at the camera.  Wanting him to see your eyes as well as your finger slowly dip into where you’re the hottest, caressing the sensitive skin there knowing he’s watching.

“Where in Nariss?”  Din’s voice is as pleading as it is sharp, desperately trying to keep either you or himself on track.

“I don’t know,” you say again.  Truthfully, you don’t—you don’t know the cross streets, you don’t know the part of town, you don’t know much of anything at all besides physical descriptors.  You quickly move the camera to the side as far as you can hold it and let him see you from a different angle with the window as a backdrop.  “But the window is open.  And there are lots of people outside.”

“Can they see you?”  Din immediately challenges.  Of course they can’t, you’re fifteen stories up and the room is darker than it is outside with all the city lights and swirling colors of the sky, but you suppose he doesn’t know that.  You think he just needs to relax—if this is what he’s always like during hunts, you now know exactly why he comes back to you all riled up and tense.

“I don’t know,” you murmur back, starting to rub your clit a little faster, trying to make it feel like him.  It doesn’t—your fingers aren’t large or strong enough to give you those perfect circles; you just feel like you’re meandering yourself towards ecstasy instead of picking you up and hauling your ass there like he does, but it’s okay.  Hearing Din’s rough breathing come through the earpiece, knowing his hands are probably clenched tight into fists, wondering if he’s hard yet… all of it culminates into a power trip unlike any you’ve experienced recently.  It makes you bold, tells you to open your mouth.  “Does it matter?  I’d still let you fuck me against it if you were here.”

“Stop it,” comes his growl, but what is he gonna do?

Your leg lifts a little wider so you can slowly slide your fingers down and push two of them inside yourself, and Din swears as you moan, “Come find me.”

“Give me your coordinates—”

“Are you giving up?”  You offer breathlessly, lifting your eyebrows and your hips up slightly at the question, but you’re… not expecting the extended silence following.  You assumed a growled no would immediately come next, or just another empty threat said with enough force to make you tremble with excitement, but not… nothing.

The response makes you pause just for a second, easing your fingers out and dragging them across your thigh to clean some of the wetness off before extending your arm out towards the communicator.  Din stays quiet while you navigate through the menu with trembling fingers, eventually finding your coordinates and hovering over the unchecked share location box.

You wait with your lip bit, confident he knows what you’re doing and you don’t have to narrate or repeat yourself.  Fuck, you knew you were considering abandoning this entire adventure just to be next to him again, but you had no idea.  No fucking idea that it could ever be a thought in his own mind as well.  You… assumed he likes this, hunting is what he does for a living and he’s the one who conceived of the idea in the first place.  Is he just that aroused by you?  Or is there something more?

“No,” Din eventually murmurs, and you immediately navigate out of the menu so you don’t accidentally press anything catastrophic, before pulling your hand away from the communicator with a resolved hum and settling back into the pillows again.  Making sure to look directly into the lens even if your eyelids are heavy with heat and desire, you slowly lick your fingers and then reach down once more.

His deep, shaky breath is so telling.  Exhausted after all this, but still not hanging up, still doing his hardest to tough it out when he’s only miles away from you and has jets attached to his back.  You don’t want to drag it out but you also do, you want to be kind but something about Din makes you also want to be as formidable as possible.  You’ll never be able to threaten like he does, you’ll never have anyone cower just because you walked into the room, you’ll never be as powerful or strong as he is, but you can still put up a fucking fight against him in your own way.

You whimper softly, your breathing beginning to find a quicker pace as surely as your fingers do.  It begins to spark and build, a red hot flame being kindled by the knowledge that he’s as close as possible without actually being close, right here with you when he always seems so far away.

“Mando,” you whisper, though your expression pulls inwards just slightly because it… in a scenario as sensual and intimate as this, it almost doesn’t sound righ—

“Din,” he whispers back, so quiet you almost don’t hear it, like he almost doesn’t want to but has to anyways, and then you just start to fucking burn.

“D-Din,” you whisper instead, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible through the rising swell.  He’ll be able to see it, you think.  The way your tummy and chest start to heave, how your body begins to brace for it—and yeah, Maker, he sees it, because his voice suddenly changes.

“Stop,” Din growls roughly, knowing exactly how you cum—knowing exactly what it looks like, the way it sounds in your breathing, what it tastes like, how it feels on the inside.  It’s been so long since you’ve touched bliss without him, months and months since you brought yourself to completion on the floor of the Crest by yourself, and though he’s rarely ever denied you, your own high on newfound control causes it to slip.  He barks your name and tells you to stop once more, but it’s too late.

“I’m gonna cum, Din,” you breathe out—

“Don’t—”

It tears through you, rapid and surging, and he snarls a curse, something loud snapping and thudding and… did he just punch something?  You can’t think, it’s delicious and hard as fuck and everything you needed after two days of near constant movement and thought with little rest, and you bite your lip to keep quiet but a pained whimper still shoves its way out of your tense vocal cords regardless.  It sounds like it hurts because it does hurt; the orgasm shatters your body into pieces and you’re left trembling by yourself on this soft bed, wishing he was with you on a metal one.

You sink into the mattress in the moments following, sluggish and exhausted and just conscious enough to keep the watch facing you.  You bet the camerawork was terrible, shaky at best, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.  You just lay there and listen to his harsh breathing while you work to slow your heart rate, reveling in the filthy little show you just gave him and wanting to finish it out properly.

“Come find me,” you breathe out once more, lazing soft and naked for him, blinking dazedly at the watch as you pan it over you.  Your thighs are still twitching and there’s a thin sheen of sweat clinging to you, but you drag a finger through your swollen lips and carefully wipe the wetness across one of your nipples.  “Clean me up.”

“Fuck,” Din suddenly spits through the earpiece, furious.  “You think—y-you think—”

“What?”  You hum, basking in the afterglow and so, so curious.  Truly, you’re dumb as fuck, you have no clue what you’re thinking, but if anybody would be able to tell you, it’s him.

There’s a moment where his breathing stops.  It’s completely silent on the line, before you hear another few heavy footsteps on his end pick up and then halt just as quickly.

“You think you can taunt me?”   He murmurs, dangerous and deadly quiet.  “Show me exactly where you are, disappear and then make me waste forever trying to get there?  You think that’s gonna work?”

Your eyebrow lifts, considering.  He… may or may not have predicted your strategy perfectly, but his insight has stopped surprising you by now.  “Maybe…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep tonight.”

Ooh.  That one sends goosebumps down your arms, but you’ve gained four hours on top of a twelve hour headstart.  He can’t scare you with that tone, not when you’re still woozy with pleasure and he isn’t right in front of you.  Instead of wilting beneath the hard threat, you just blink gently at the communicator, finding strength in being the only one to get him this mad when he’s always so composed, this talkative when he barely says a word.  “Maybe I’ll just stay here then?”

“Maybe you wanted me to know you’re in an inn because you already found someplace to hide that isn’t one,” Din reasons very, very adeptly.  Stars, your heart subtly begins to pick up, your legs continuing to tremble as the small red light next to the lens stares you down.  “Can’t be planning to stay with someone you just met because you’d already be there, can’t be going to a hostel because you found the one city on this moon built for commerce and not aid.  Not staying in another inn, you can’t afford it—the view looks high up, that robe is expensive, and you already bought food and at least five pairs of shoes in two days.  I don’t think the place you found is even in Nariss.  You think you can outsmart me, sweet girl?”

The chill down your spine doesn’t reach your eyes, you won’t let it.  You just feel yourself smile, tilting your head at him and licking your lips while your finger brushes one of your nipples, but Din doesn’t accept your silence the way you’ve always accepted his.  He wants an answer from you, right now, and it’s clear in the dark rumble of his voice, the danger slowly brewing beyond what you originally planned for.

“Tell me,” he orders, unamused and leaving no room to disobey.  “How long do you think you can keep running?”

Your eyelashes flutter, suddenly deciding… why not?  What have you got to lose?  Nothing that you didn’t already go into this situation completely expecting to lose anyways.  What’s the worst he can do?  Find you?

You close your eyes, pinching one of your nipples and wondering if you might just go for another one since he’s still here.  “Ask me again tomorrow.”

But then, instead of immediately responding, you just hear Din’s footsteps suddenly pick up, faster than any pace you’ve been able to keep over the past few days.  You don’t think it sounds like a run necessarily, but you know that his legs and strides are far longer than yours and it’s probably pretty much equivalent to a run for you.  You hear the rhythm of your demise speeding up, coming closer and closer, and everything in you both fears it and welcomes it.

“We’ll see,” he tells you, and then the red light vanishes and your earpiece clicks to silence.

***

Day 3—2:23am:

Even though it takes you much longer to do so than it normally would on a bed so large and comfortable, after such an exciting interaction and not being used to flickering light when you try to sleep but wanting to experience the rarity anyways, you’re eventually able to pass out.

But, not even a few minutes into a restless dream, you turn over and accidentally knock your communicator off the wireless charging station on the side table.  It blinks with four percent battery life.

***

To be continued!!

[zhuzhudushu]

do you happen to know how to translate english names to chinese without it just being the phonetic spelling? a native mandarin speaker brought it up to me and now i'm wondering if it would seem more natural or if i should stick with phonetic

I'm assuming by phonetic spelling you mean translating English names to the closest Chinese equivalent with pronunciation? Like my name: Julia > 朱莉娅 (zhuliya)

I've talked about names A Lot™ with my Chinese friends because I often felt that way too, that this name was.. obviously not a native Chinese name lol So sorry ahead of time, this will be a long answer!!! I LOVE NAMES

Why I've stuck with a phonetic name: All my Chinese friends said the same thing: that my name isn't super unnatural, and that I shouldn't change it because they like it and immediately think of me whenever they see it because it's distinct.

((Of course some names are probably way more unnatural than mine, too, and I'm lucky that my English name converts well to many languages lol))

I tried letting new friends on Tandem/HelloTalk pick a name for me to see what they came up with (keeping 朱, because I'm attached to it) and tbh they were pretty, and probably more normal sounding, but none of them resonated with me. I've just associated myself with "red grass girl" 🤣🤣

I feel like there's nothing wrong with converting names to the closest phonetic equivalent!! My closest friends in China and Taiwan agree.

Side tangent #1

Once someone recommended switching to 丽 (li), but then another friend told me that one was too overused. Someone recommended 立 (I think?? If not, it was another character with this radical) once too, and a guy told me it gave off vibes of independence, but 2 girls told me it was way too masculine for a girl's name. Essentially, just because one Chinese person maybe said your name was too unnatural does not mean all Chinese people feel this way. In my experience you can ask 5 Chinese people about a name and you will get 5 different answers for whether it's masc/fem, what it's associated with, whether it's common, or whether it sounds foreign. One of my friends has even met a native Chinese 朱莉娅 before, with the same characters I use!

Side tangent #2

What about the reverse, what do we think of foreigners who have English names vs. foreign names? Obviously Xiran Jay Zhao is Chinese by their name and did not pick an English name, and I think this works!! Though I do see most foreign Chinese people pick names like John, Edward, Caroline... And what do we think when we see "Edward Pan"? (潘雲安, the singer for 告五人 btw) Some of us might think "lol why did they pick that name, that's obviously not their real name." And what do we think when they pick old-fashioned names like Eunice? (Yes, I've met one) If we pick an overtly standard Chinese name, will they think similarly? But then, if we have something that's completely non-standard, what will they think of that?? They might say "oh a foreigner" but... is that such a bad thing? It's tricky!

IN CONCLUSION (and to actually answer your question... 😅)

If your name doesn't convert well phonetically, or you think the phonetic translation is too odd, (or maybe you hate your English name lmao) here's what I'd recommend for finding alternatives:

Try picking a surname character (click for a list) that sounds similar to your English name, then pick a "normal" given name! Or vice versa, use a common Chinese surname and pick a given name that has the same initial consonant/syllable as your English name but is still "normal" sounding.

Here's some resources for picking characters:

Behindthename - pretty accurate from my experience!

Everyday Chinese - good video with a PDF below of 100 common characters used in boy/girl names

My Name is Andong - I like his suggestions a lot!

Shuoshuo - She's adorable and has good advice

Shuoshuo again - Here she critiques her students' names!

(You're also more than welcome to join my discord channel, where we have a whole section dedicated to discussing names!)

HelloTalk & Tandem are great places to bounce ideas off natives. They've been super friendly and open to picking names based on the meaning of my name, pronunciation of my name, or based on characters used in classic poetry or more hip characters.

If you pick a name on your own, run it by multiple native speakers. You never know if you might've picked a homonym for an insult or a rare idiom with a negative meaning!!!

Also something else to consider: what your friends actually call you. Do my closest friends calls me 朱莉娅？ LOL NO I'm 朱朱 and 朱老师(lolz) And this is super cute, and a super normal nickname to be called in China. Literally there are a million 朱朱's lol

So maybe instead of worrying about "does it sound foreign" altogether, find one character (I'd suggest a surname or the first character of a given name) that you feel you can associate with yourself phonetically/visually/meaning-wise and then go by that in the double-repeat format of Chinese nicknames. I've been much happier since I started using 朱朱 on most platforms~~

Because I can't stop rambling, see some real life examples below:

杰里德 (Jared) youtuber who uses a phonetic name and he's very popular both here and on the Chinese version of youtube, even his Chinese girlfriend calls him 杰里德 and no one seems to care. And because it's distinct and "foreign" you can mention 杰里德 to Chinese person and they're like "the Canadian guy???" lol

Blondie in China (艾米饭) her real name is Amy, seems to have a fun but nonstandard Chinese name but she never uses it in her youtube videos so idk how people react to it!

毛毛虫 (Anastasia Koss) youtuber who complains sometimes that she gets weird comments about her name... which, she did name herself a bug, so that's not normal by Chinese name standards, but I wonder if she had picked something closer to her english name, would she get comments like that?

丹娜 (Danai) youtuber who seems to have gone with a direct phonetic translation, and tbh I think this is really cute!!

小马 (Arieh) youtuber who also has a weird name imo, since it's literally "pony" lol But tbh I don't watch him bc he bothers me so idk how people react to his name

There are also lots of phonetically-translated names for famous people and Chinese people don't seem to care??? Examples: Anne Hathaway (安妮 海瑟薇, ani haisewei), Obama (奥巴马, aobama), Romeo & Juliet (罗密欧/朱丽叶, luomiou/zhuliye)

Also for fun, here are some of my Chinese friends and their English names that I think are pretty good translations because they're partially phonetic~

佳琪 (jiaqi) > Jackie

培妤 (peiyu) > Penny

刘潇璇 (liuxiaoxuan) > Lexi

[glowingbadger]

The Sylvain and Dimitri arranged marriage stuff made me think of a claude version of it. Maybe an AU where Claude never came to fodlan and reader has to marry the prince/king of Almyra to improve countries relationships. Anyway seriously love your stuff thank you so much for the content!!

Oh hoo Anon, this is a wonderful take on the concept. Let's see what I can whip up for us~

((side note I feel like we never learn whether Almyra speaks a different language from Fodlan?? But being multi-lingual is sexy so idgaf))

((And also I used Bengali for Almyran because I have Bengali family and the language is so beautiful even though the english alphabet phonetic spellings are weird af))

Claude x Reader - Arranged Marriage

NSFW 18+ (like only towards the end tho idk)

Overall, you do what you can to stay out of the way. You'd been sent to Almyra as a symbol- a token, more than anything else. Now that you were in King Khalid's possession, very few throughout the castle paid you any particular mind. You were provided for, of course. Anything you cared to ask for was given. But you didn't speak a word of the Almyran language, and those who bothered to use what they knew of Fodlan's to communicate with you seemed to view you as a pet to be kept safe and healthy, and little else.

By week's end, there was to be a lavish banquet in honor of your union with the King- though of course, your input on the proceedings is entirely unwanted. In some ways, Almyra is quite similar to Fodlan. Court life is much the same. As you wander through the royal gardens, wondering at a range of colorful and exotic flowers you'd never heard of, let alone seen, a voice speaks smoothly behind you.

"Did you know you can actually eat the petals of this particular flower? They're very sweet."

You whirl around and nearly bump into King Khalid. You're about to stammer out an apology, but he reaches out and plucks a single white petal and holds it before your lips.

"Go on, I think you'll like it."

Whatever possesses you to eat a flower petal from this man's hand is something you'd rather leave unexamined for the time being- but he is right about the flavor. It's sweet, but not overly so, and quite pleasant.

"Hm! Yeah, it's nice," you say, then glance up at him as another thought occurs to you that you'd considered once or twice before, "You speak the language of Fodlan very well, my Lord."

"I'm flattered," he says with a disarmingly handsome smile, "and please, just Khalid. I don't think I could bear to have my own wife stand on such formality with me."

He says it so naturally, as if you'd been planning this union for years. Though, once again, he's right. This is only perhaps the dozenth time you've exchanged words, but you are wed, and you ought to get used to addressing him as your husband.

"Khalid..." you say tentatively, "Did- did you need something from me? I hope I wasn't too much trouble to find."

"Not when you find such pleasant places to hide," he replies, still wearing that easy smile, "but to be honest, I was actually hoping you'd accompany me for the day. I can finally afford to take a bit of time away from the castle, and I think you and I both would appreciate some space to breathe. What do you say?"

Correct once again. You nod, and take the arm he offers you. As he leads you out from the gardens, he points out a few more plants native to your new homeland. They're incredibly varied, each more strange and vibrant than the last. All the while, he's somehow made you feel as though you're chatting with an old friend. You leave the gardens and wander towards the area you vaguely recall to be designated for horse stables and wyvern stalls.

From there, a few things happen in sequence. Khalid asks if you're afraid of flying. He asks if you trust him to hold on to you. He helps you up onto the saddle that seems impossibly high up on its own right, and then, you're propelled into the air with a force your body has never felt before. You tense and shrink back against his chest, clinging to whatever part of the saddle you can find purchase on for dear life. Up here, it's difficult to pick up, but you feel your husband laugh behind you, then his strong arm wrap around your waist.

"Relax, I won't let anything happen to you," he says against your ear, his voice sure and steady, "I've got you."

And it takes a few miles of flying and a lot of Khalid distracting you by pointing out different buildings and shops along the streets below, but eventually, you do manage to relax- at least a little.

The castle town is positively buzzing with activity. Even from your distance in the sky above, you can see clusters of people moving around each other like fish up stream, and even hear the faint echoes of a merchant advertising goods.

"It doesn't seem at all like the Almyra we're taught about in Fodlan."

"Oh, it is," Khalid assures you with a bemused chuckle, "But it's also much more. I imagine it's the same for your people. There's a lot we can learn from one another, I think."

By the time the sun is high in the sky, you've passed the most densely settled part of town and are gliding over farmland and the occasional pocket of forest and rivers that split and cross through the earth like veins. Though, the warmer climate of Almyra will still take some getting used to, and it seems your husband considers this.

"Let's land for a bit and find some shade,"

You nod, and he directs his wyvern to begin a slow descent.

The King had thought of everything for this little day-trip, it seemed. Having evidently packed everything you'd need in the saddlebags on his steed, you now recline beside him on a plush blanket in a clearing amidst the trees. A small brook bubbles down from stone to stone in small waterfalls beside you, and the air feels positively alive with birdsong and rustling leaves, all foreign to you and all part of your new home. And so is he, you think as you glance over at the handsome figure of your husband beside you.

You'd been sitting in a comfortable quiet, munching on a couple of very dense pastries which Khalid had told you incorporated an extract of the flower you'd sampled earlier. He gives a satisfied sigh as he finishes his first and lies back on the blanket, taking in and savoring a deep breath. As you finish the last bites of your own treat, you reflect on the day thus far. You'd learned much about the locals and their daily lives by observation and Khalid's description in such a short time, and he'd even taught you a hand full of basic words and phrases in Almyran.

"Uhm, Khalid?"

He opens one eye and gives you a sideways glance.

"It was... dhonnobad, right? Thank you?"

His smile his open and warm, his eyes practically shimmering in the reflected sunlight from the nearby brook.

"Well, we'll have to work on your pronunciation, but I'm impressed you remembered," he beckons you down onto the blanket beside him, and you follow, lying on your side as he turns towards you. You're closer than you'd anticipated, even given the limited realestate of the blanket, and you internally scold yourself for being shy about something so silly- like some naive adolescent.

"Let's try a couple more words, since you've been such a diligent student."

"Okay," you say with a smile, "try me, I'll do my best."

"Hmm..." he looks around your private clearing, then gestures towards the brook and says, "Jala"

"Jala," you repeat slowly. He nods,

"Right- that's 'water'. And, uhm..." he points toward a patch of wildflowers at the edge of the brook, "Phula. That's 'flower'."

Again, you repeat as best you can, and though you know your pronunciation must be off, he's encouraging nonetheless. Then, he leans in towards you, and brings his free hand to your cheek, his fingertips brushing your skin lightly.

"Now try sundara."

"... Sundara?" you make an attempt, and you're sure you got something about that 's' sound mixed up, but Khalid just gives you a slanted smile. He doesn't clarify at first, so you ask, "What does that one mean?"

His fingers slowly weave back into your hair, and his voice is low and soothing as he replies,

"That means 'beautiful'."

Your face warms immediately, but you hardly have a moment to feel bashful about it before he presses his lips to yours, kissing you slow and deep. His movements are effortlessly sensual, pulling you towards him and sending your pulse pounding through your veins. You part your lips to him almost instinctively, and the way he uses his tongue is sparing, but oh-so effective. When he finally pulls away, your head is spinning and it's all you can do to meet his gaze.

"So... that's how they kiss in Almyra." you say, barely above a whisper. Khalid smirks and turns you onto your back, sliding an arm around your waist.

"Oh, no- there's no tradition in this, only skill."

Goddess- if they'd warned you of the King's supernatural charms, you wouldn't have believed them. But now his lips are on yours once again, and he's holding your body to his, and you can't think of anything else. Your arms drape across his shoulders, and faster than you can track, your bodies have met in a tangled, impassioned embrace. It was hard to imagine that mere kissing could feel so erotic, but something about his pace, about how his lips and hands move in tandem, about how thorough he is in exploring you, makes you feel like it would be only natural to give yourself over to him completely.

His kiss travels along your jawline up to the shell of your ear, where he nips briefly, then murmurs,

"I was hoping to apologize for how little time we've had to get to know each other before today," you bite at your bottom lip as his hand slides down to the curve of your hip, "if that would be pleasing to you, my dearest wife."

"Ye- yes..." you sigh into the open air as his lips reach your neck. The single word is all either of you need. He never stops pressing lavish kisses to your lips and neck as he pulls your clothing out of his way. By the time he's satisfied, your clothes are draped off your arms and pooling around you on the blanket- and he doesn't seem to care to remove them entirely. He has a goal in mind.

Slowly, painstakingly, he makes his way down your body. You feel him everywhere- hands tracing and memorizing your frame, breath hot across your skin as his lips spoil you with adoring kisses. Soon enough, he's kissed his way to your lower stomach, and he urges your thighs apart beneath him. You suppress the instinctive wave of embarrassment at being exposed to him for the first time- he is your husband and your King, afterall- but then, his head dips down towards your plump lower lips, and your mind goes white.

"Khalid-!" you gasp out as his tongue trails coyly up the crease of your folds. He hums contentedly, and places a disarmingly chaste kiss to the soft skin. Then, his thumbs gently spread you open for him, and your entire body burns while he takes a moment to merely admire you- your pretty little hole already wet, your clit already hard and flushed dark. When his head lowers once more, his green eyes meet yours steadily, as though to promise without words to be good to you.

And in a moment, his mouth begins to gently tease your clit, and your head tilts back on the blanket. Your hips jerk just a bit with each pass of his tongue across the sensitive bundle, and occasionally you can't hold in a gasp or whimper of pleasure. This only encourages him, of course. The more you moan and sigh, the more dedicated he becomes to your body. He presses himself more firmly to you, his lips surrounding your clit and the surrounding tender flesh, and he suckles on you, licks you, kisses you. You don't know when it happened, but your hands are at the back of his head, fists tangled in thick brown hair as he diligently works.

The unbearable tension is winding tight and anxious in your lower body- you know he'll drive you to climax before long, and the mere thought feels like falling in love. And then Khalid moves lower, and his tongue dips inside of your entrance. You gasp and unwittingly tug on his hair- but he certainly doesn't seem to mind. With a lustful groan, he presses more firmly to you, truly buried against your body as his dexterous tongue curls upward, stroking the vulnerable spot behind the nerves of your clit.

"Khalid!" this time it's nearly a scream, and you're grateful that your voice is lost in the surrounding foliage. Your thighs begin to shake, and your hands release him to instead clutch the blanket behind you. And at last, with a whimper in a voice you hardly recognize, your lower body floods with soaked warmth as your orgasm sweeps through you. Panting, twitching, you moan out for your husband over and over, until finally, the wave begins to subside, and Khalid pulls away to position himself above you on all fours.

"That's a nice expression..." he says with a grin, directing you to look at him with a hand at your chin, "I hope I'll get to see it often."

When your eyes finally refocus, you look up at him somewhat apologetically,

"I should... attend to you."

He laughs and kisses your forehead,

"There will be time for that tonight, don't you think? Once we're a bit more... put together," he says with a glance at your bare form, "we should head back to our ride. I'll bring you back to the castle, and we'll get the cooks to prepare something very 'Almyran' for you."

You nod- it probably wouldn't do for the first time with your Lord Husband to be mid-day in the woods. Though he'd certainly failed to make it seem unappealing.

"And then," he goes on, bringing a finger to trace the curve of your bottom lip, "Well, maybe we'll excuse ourselves to our bedchamber a bit early this evening, and we can continue this little... cultural exchange."

[just--another--daydreamer]

Close to you

» Izuku Midoriya x male reader

» Angst with some fluff » Requested (by anon): I need a fix of desperate, angsty fluff with Izuku. Maybe his hero bf recklessly goes after a villain alone and gets captured, so Pro-hero Deku has to rush to his rescue, scared of what he might find. » Warnings: mentions of religion at the beginning; dissociation; anxiety; overthinking; smoking; emetophobia; descriptions of blood & gore; mentions of death » Words: ~3.5k

You can find a link to my Masterlist etc in my bio and pinned post

Midoriya had never been one to pray to any gods for a wish. To him, it often felt selfish – after all, there were people who needed help more desperately than he did and they should receive it first. Even during his darkest moments, he had never even thought about praying, he had always known that he could rely on his own strength as well as his friends.

However, this time, his hands trembled as he put them together in a manner meant for praying. With his eyes closed and head lowered, Midoriya tried to think of a way to phrase his prayer but no right wording would come to his mind – in the end, he only stared at the dark behind his closed eyelids, incomprehensible thoughts filling his mind.

“Izuku.” A firm grip on his shoulder pulled Midoriya from his thoughts. It caught him off-guard, and he almost prepared himself for an attack before he recognized the person who stood before the bench Midoriya sat on. “Oh Shouto, it’s you!” Midoriya sighed in relief at the sight of his friend. “I’m sorry if I scared you, but the meeting should start very soon, and I didn’t want to miss the chance to talk to you before the others are here.” They were still the only ones in the bright yet depressing hallway of the hero agency that Deku currently worked at, and after taking a quick look at his watch, Midoriya figured that it would still take the other heroes a few minutes to get there. “Sure, what is it?” The light smile that had adorned Todoroki’s lips from when he had just greeted Midoriya vanished again and was replaced by a deep, concerned frown.

“I don’t think you should be leading this mission, Izuku, but someone else should do it,” Todoroki’s voice sounded just as concerned as he looked. “To be frank I would not even want you to participate in this rescue at all, but I don’t think that I could ever stop you from that.” Midoriya took a moment to think about his fellow pro hero’s words. It had already taken him all the self-control he had to not immediately run after you to save you, so he had to be on this mission. Though, he had to admit that due to the personal feelings toward this mission, his judgement might be off, so having someone else lead it would probably put them at an advantage.

“When you’re saying, ‘someone else’, do you mean yourself?” he inquired, and Todoroki nodded in confirmation. Midoriya took a few seconds to consider the proposal. Down the hall, he could hear the rest of the team for the rescue mission approach them. “Alright, let’s do it!”

The small conference room was unusually quiet. There was no happy catching up with one another, no euphoric reunions after not seeing each other for a few months. A pressing silence filled the room like thick, heavy fog as the ex-class 1A students Midoriya, Todoroki, Iida, Kirishima and Uraraka sat around the table, eyes fixed on their hands and the files in front of them. The only words that had been spoken were words of solidarity towards Midoriya, which he appreciated.

While Todoroki opened the meeting by greeting everyone and thanking them for coming, Midoriya stared down at his hands. The skin on his fingertips around the nails was reddened, a side effect of his anxious habit of biting his fingernails. Midoriya thought that he had gotten rid of said habit, but the current situation had changed many things. Before him on the table, his hands started to blur as his eyes filled with tears once again. He quickly wiped them away, hoping that nobody would notice.

Todoroki’s speech only barely reached him, only as a seemingly distant, faint mumbling as though he was speaking to Midoriya through a thick concrete wall. The whole room started feeling like a wide and open space with his former classmates miles and miles away. Mind numbing emptiness filled Midoriya’s heart and went through his veins until it was the only thing he felt in his whole body. As his breathing got faster, his heartrate picked up. Why was he there? Why was he not on his way to get you already? Even though he sat perfectly still, Midoriya felt dizzy, only from the way his mind spun – around and around and around like a carousel, Deku being the only passenger on this horrendous ride.

“You look really pale, Deku, are you alright?” Uraraka’s voice was as soft as ever. The soothing tone was able to momentarily stop Midoriya’s mind. For a second, he looked at her without an answer before simply nodding.

Only when Todoroki asked Midoriya to go over the situation once again, he was completely pulled back into reality. His legs trembled a little as Deku stood up. The eyes of his former classmates all followed his movements very carefully, trying to get clues about their friend’s mental state that the situation caused. Uraraka and Kirishima looked especially worried whereas Todoroki and Iida kept their expressions professional.

“Thank you everyone for coming on such short notice,” Midoriya started. He balled his hands to fists and squeezed as hard as he could to keep his mind from wandering too much that might cause him to break down again. “The villain organization that has been watched by several agencies for the past few months made a move about a week ago, as some of you may know. It was the first incident of that kind and several civilians got hurt in the process.” Deku clearly remembered the pictures of the scene on the news. Neither his nor the hero agency you worked for had been able to stop that despite being the ones watching the organization. “Y/N went after the villains alone and has not been seen since.” His voice got quieter with every word he spoke.

Your actions contradicted what you had learned at UA not so long ago. Staying calm and collected in crises, thinking rationally, and getting help was the priority. But guilt and anger had eaten you up. Midoriya could not blame you for that, even if he wanted to. He had experienced the same feelings in the past, put himself in danger, worried others, all because he wanted to play hero. Midoriya sat down again and let Todoroki take over once again.

“Since we know where the villains are hiding, it will be easy to retrieve the target.” ‘The target’. Midoriya flinched. The way the words came out of Todoroki’s mouth, the lack of emotion and his straight face were something admirable and scary at the same time. Reducing you to merely the word ‘target’ and the emotional disconnect that came with it would probably make this mission easier for Deku, but he just did not manage to think that way. With a sigh, he sank deeper into his chair and listened to Todoroki’s plan.

It was an easy one, starting with negotiations led by Iida. He was the best that that sort of thing, so Midoriya had no problem leaving that to him. However, he was not really fond of the idea of exchanging your life for something like money but since it was the easiest way to avoid direct confrontation, they had to try it. If that did not work, Iida would go in through the front door, and Todoroki, Deku, Kirishima and Uraraka through the back door in two teams to get ‘the target’ out by themselves. Combat was to be avoided. The top priority was getting you out, not arresting the bad guys, though the police would be waiting in front of the building to take them in.

The base of the small villain group was an abandoned warehouse – because of course it would be that. The alley behind it was narrow and dirty, littered with shards of glass and cigarette butts. Next to the dark water in the potholes, Midoriya could see dried as well as fresh blood shimmering on the asphalt. The sight made him sick, a feeling he had not experienced in a while.

The four heroes came to a halt at the place where they would go into the building through the back door. There were no guards, which came as a surprise, but even if there had been some it would not have been a problem for any of them. Midoriya and Todoroki stayed back and inspected the alley while Uraraka and Kirishima got ready at the heavy double-winged door

 Midoriya crouched down and inspected the blood stains. Todoroki’s eyes were fixed on him, he could almost physically feel it. With his gloved hand, Midoriya moved some reddened shards around, not entirely sure of what he was doing or why he was doing it in the first place, but it was a way to keep his hands and mind busy. Todoroki had his own ways of doing that. “I thought you quit,” Midoriya remarked. “I thought so too, but-” Todoroki did not care to finish his sentence and only a few seconds later, the smell of cigarette smoke reached Deku. He wrinkled his nose. “The situation is getting to me too, you know?” Todoroki’s pronunciation was a bit curious with the cig between his lips. “The same goes for the others. Kirishima, Uraraka, Iida, they’re all worried. Bakugou, too, even though he isn’t here today.” A short pause. Deku assumed that Todoroki was taking a deep drag. “It is really getting to me.” His voice was quieter this time and it had a tone to it that Deku barely knew from his friend. It was desperate, hopeless, pleading.

Midoriya had no words of affirmation that he could tell Todoroki. Hell, if he could think positively in this situation, everything would be a lot easier. He searched and searched for words, but none would come to his mind. And in the end, he did not need to say anything. Midoriya’s communication device made a static sound, before he heard Iida’s voice, loud and clear. »Negotiations failed. What will be the next step?« “We’re going in,” Todoroki told them without hesitation. “Understood!” Midoriya got back up and was at the door in less than a second. He looked at Uraraka and Kirishima, both had a determined look on their face.

Todoroki stepped to them and – given the lack of a bin – dropped his half-smoked cigarette to the ground. “That’s not very heroic of you, Todoroki,” Kirishima commented. Uraraka giggled and even Midoriya managed to crack a smile. “I’ll pick it up later,” the leader of their mission said and Deku was sure he saw his lips twitch into a fond expression as well, even if it was only for a split second. They all became serious again. “Deku, open the door for us.”

  The inside of the building was dark and empty, and Midoriya was not sure why he had expected anything else. His and Uraraka’s footsteps on the wet ground resounded through the empty hallway. It was quite dark, most of the lamps on the walls were either broken or very dim, so the major source of light were the occasional holes in the ceiling. It took Midoriya all the self-control he had not to activate One For All and charge forward – Uraraka and he were a team, and they should stay together since running around alone might be dangerous. The further they got into the building, the harder it got for Midoriya to keep it together. With every door they opened, with every room they inspected, anxiety and terror grew withing him. There was no sign of you.

It did not take long for some villains to show up, but at this point in time they were no match for Deku. Anyone who tried to get in his way right now was put down in mere seconds. Uraraka kept his back free and had an eye on him in case he got too reckless.

The last door he approached was a pain to open. Midoriya had to push it with his shoulder since the hinges were rusty and it took him a few tries until the door finally budged and creaked open. Behind the door, Midoriya was met with a pitch-black room. He reached over to the wall besides the entrance and searched for a light switch. A single light bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered on, only giving enough light for Midoriya to see the rough shapes of the room’s interior, but it slowly started glowing brighter. That was when his heart stopped.

For a split second, Midoriya thought that maybe he had come too late, that maybe you were already dead. The sight of you, tied to a chair with ropes so tight that they were cutting into the flesh on your wrists and ankles sent shivers up and down his spine. Blood dripping down from your chin had already formed a small pool on the already wet floor. He noticed the smell of blood, sweat and vomit still fresh and heavy in the air.

“Y/N?” His voice was merely a whisper. Maybe he was afraid that if he were loud enough for you to hear, you would not react. Midoriya forced himself to take a step. Lift his foot off the ground, move it onwards, put it down again. Now with his other foot. Lift, onwards, down. And again. With every step, a new wave of sensations and feelings washed over Midoriya. First it was disgust – he could not help that one but looking at your skin peeling off your flesh and exposing the bare muscle tissue and bone almost made him vomit. Then it was hysteria – Midoriya could both laugh and cry out loud until he lost his voice, kiss you on your dead cold bloody lips, dance and jump through this awful room – because he finally found you but what if it were too late? Then it was fear – and with this feeling numbing his mind once again, he reached you.

“Y/N?” He crouched down so his face was on one level with yours. The dull sound of Midoriya’s gloves falling to the ground echoed through the room, to him it was almost as loud as an explosion. As he held his breath, his now bare hand reached out for you almost all on its own, touched your neck, searched for a pulse. To Midoriya’s relief, your skin was not cold, but warm. Maybe even a bit too warm. His hand wandered up your neck and he cupped your cheek, wiped away some blood with his thumb. Under his touch, your muscles twitched. Midoriya pulled back and watched as your eyes fluttered open. Your gaze was empty and unfocused for a while, wandering from the dark walls of the room to the lightbulb over your head, until it stopped on Midoriya’s face.

He watched as your eyes widened. “Izuku?” Your voice was hoarse and filled with so much desperation that it made the hero’s heart drop. “Is it really you?” Midoriya nodded. He pressed his lips together and did not dare to answer, afraid that his voice would break if he said anything. “I’ve been waiting for you.” You made an attempt to reach out for him but the restraints around your wrists made that impossible. Midoriya swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to stay focused. “And I’ve been looking for you. I’ll get you out of here now.” Over the comms, he quickly informed his teammates over the mission’s success before he reached into his pocket for a knife. “I’m sorry that I’m so late,” he told you as he cut through the ropes. They were sticky, some even slippery from the blood. Deku tried not to pay too much attention to that but the sight of the crimson red shimmering on his hands made him gag. “The most important thing is that you’re here now.” You cracked a smile, but it did not look too convincing.

Once your hands were free, you swiftly wrapped your arms around Midoriya. It took him by surprise, but he hugged you back, careful not to use too much strength that might hurt you. You buried your face deep in Midoriya’s chest, fingers digging into his back, clinging to his suit. Just now he felt the way your body trembled, Midoriya did not know if it was exhaustion or fear. Maybe he was shaking as well. He wanted to stay like this forever, feel you in his arms, warm and alive, hold onto this thought and only this one while ignoring the horrible reality. Blood wet Midoriya’s clothes but he had nothing to take care of your wounds with. To be honest, he did not want to look at them. All he wanted was to keep holding on to you, forever.

Fighting noises reached his ears, not too far away. Men yelling. Your grip tightened a little and Midoriya thought that maybe you were shaking a little more now. “I want to leave, Izuku,” you whispered. Midoriya did not say anything. He listened carefully as the noises faded away. A few seconds of pressing silence passed awfully slow. »We’re all clear!« Todoroki’s voice was calm but Midoriya heard a hint of relief. However, he decided to stay put for a few more minutes to make sure that no other people were picking a fight anywhere else.

“Let’s go,” he said after a while. He could not spend another minute in this building, afraid that you might end up dying from your injuries.

As gently as he possibly could, Midoriya lifted you from the chair and carried you out of the building.

  Talking to the police and the press was a pain. Todoroki did most of it, given that he had been the leader of this mission, but Deku still had to talk to everyone as well. Press conferences with countless questions, some challenging their beliefs and morals as heroes, some too personal for Midoriya to answer – questions about you, your wellbeing, your relationship to the hero Deku. When he was not currently being interrogated by the public, Midoriya spent every free minute in the hospital, by your side. At first the doctors had not let him see you, but he had still stayed there the entire time. And when he was finally allowed in your room, Midoriya could not contain himself and his emotions any longer.

He sobbed and cried and swore and apologized all in one go without taking a breath while you tried to calm him down. He held your hand the entire time he was there, afraid that if he let go off you for one second, some villains might separate the two of you again.

“When are you getting released from the hospital?” Uraraka questioned while she put a small bouquet into a vase on the windowsill. The blossoms shone in the golden light of the evening sun and threw dancing shadows on your white blanket. “Next week, probably.” You gave her a tired smile. “Though I’ll have to be inactive for a while during my healing process.” Midoriya knew that having to neglect your hero duties like that was hard for you, so he squeezed your hand reassuringly. “We’re all wishing you well!” “Thanks Uraraka!” The two of you watched as the young woman left again. She was not the only one who had visited. The whole team had been there, Todoroki visited frequently, and even Bakugou had showed up once or twice.

“This sucks, I’m so bored!” You whined, getting a short chuckle from Midoriya. “I know, but you need some more rest.” He looked down at your intertwined fingers. Your wrists were still covered in bandages but some of your wounds had started to heal again. However, it would still take quite a while for you to fully recover. Midoriya ran his thumb over the fabric. “You’ll get better soon, and I’ll always be here to support you during this time. I miss you at home and being close to you.” “Thank you. And I miss that too.” A soft smile formed on your lips, so Midoriya leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on them. He lingered there for a moment before standing up and grabbing his jacket. “I should get going, it’s late and you need your rest.” “Alright!”

Midoriya slipped into his jacket but before he could leave, you sat up, grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him down into another kiss. “Hey, you’re supposed to lay dow-” Midoriya started to complain but quickly quit to return the kiss. When you let him go and Midoriya walked towards the door he had a smile on his face. Everything was going to be fine. He turned around by the door and looked at the flowers and the curtain moving in the wind. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” “See you tomorrow, Izuku!”

[nctsjiho]

How Haechan And JiHo’s Friendship Evolved Over The Years [Part 1]

[2015 | First Meeting | SM Artist Lounge, 2nd floor]

“Is this really necessary?” Jiho groaned whilst getting pushed out of the elevator by Doyoung. “Didn’t you say you don’t have many friends?” “I said in school! I don’t have many friends in school!” Jiho explained agitated. “It doesn’t matter, it’s too late to turn around.”

Doyoung then pushed open the door to SM’s private lounge where 4 boys sat talking to each other on the big couch. “Kids! This is Jiho, she’s also a 00 liner.” The four boys looked up to see Doyoung holding a girl in front of him by her shoulders. They quickly greeted the pair and then expectantly looked at Jiho for her to talk.

“My Korean... uhm, not so good.” She held her hands up in a cross while butchering her Korean pronunciation. The four boys - Mark, Donghyuck, Jeno and Jaemin - smiled awkwardly at her nodding their heads.

Before Mark could say: “It’s okay. Don’t worry.” Doyoung pushed the girl by her shoulder causing her to laugh. “Yah! Why are you like this?” Jiho looked up once more and bowed towards the four confused boys. “I was just kidding. Hi, I’m Jiho. Nice to meet you guys.” She waved and showed the boys a genuine smile which they quickly returned. The boys were relieved and laughing at the girl’s little joke.

“I thought it would be nice for you guys to get to know each other. Jiho’s pretty new and she has a hard time befriending the other girl trainees.” Jiho raised her brow listening to Doyoung’s explanation. “I don’t think that’s necessarily true but-” “If you see her around, don’t be afraid to say hi to her. She’s really nice. Most of the time.” Doyoung mumbled the last sentence this time earning a judging look from the younger girl.

Mark then stood up, motioning for the others to do so as well. “We actually have to go to practise right now, but we’d love to hang out in the future.” Mark said and Jiho nodded with a smile. “That’s fine, I’ll see you around.” She waved while the boys walked off.

Doyoung then quickly nudged the girl, urging her to tell the boys the thing she told Doyoung earlier. “Uh- Wait!” The four boys turned around to see Jiho push Doyoung’s elbow away from her side. “I actually saw you guys practise and you’re all really good dancers...” She mumbled, her fingers curling into her palms. Doyoung one again poked the girl’s side. “Also Donghyuck-ssi, I really like your voice. You’re a great singer.” She smiled and looked up to meet the boy’s gaze. His cheeks slightly flared up and he bowed his head, muttering a small thanks before they all left the room.

Jiho glared at the older boy who seemed very proud of himself. “Thanks. Now things are going to be very awkward thanks to you.” “Ah~ No problem, loved to help you.”

[2016 | Snack Shuttle | SM Practise Room ]

“When you said you’d find a way to hang out more during your busy schedule, I didn’t know I’d become your personal snack shuttle.” Doyoung walked into the practise room with a complaining Jiho by his side, holding a few white plastic bags. “I thought you wanted to hang out more?” “If this is what ‘hanging out’ is than I don’t think I’m that interested anymore.”

Johnny’s chuckles filled the room and everyone looked at him. “You start to sound like actual siblings more each time I see you together.” Doyoung and Jiho then shared a look of disgust before turning back to sorting the snacks.

“Oppa told me what all of you guys liked so I brought something for everyone.” The boy’s eyes lit up as they thanked Jiho and ran towards her and Doyoung who were still holding on to the bags.

After giving everyone what they wanted Jiho held up one more item in her hand. “Did someone ask for this snack?” Jiho asked the room holding the bag of chips up high. Doyoung took a closer look, inspecting the bag but shook his head just like the rest of the room. “I didn’t, but I know Haechan likes these.” Jiho’s eyes locked with Haechan and she held the bag out for him to take. “Jiho I thought you liked those too.” Doyoung added quickly, earning a shrug from the girl.

“Want these?” She asked the same aged boy who’s eyes had widened a bit. “You don’t have anything for yourself though, you can keep them.” Haechan carefully said but the girl just shook her head and pushed the snack into Haechan’s hands. “I have a weigh-in in 2 days. So I’ll pass this time.” A fake smile found its place on her lips and Yuta stood up to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “You’re literally tiny, why should you worry about that?” “The world is a cruel place oppa.” She sighed to which he chuckled.

Mark quickly slid his way over to Haechan and nudged the boy a few times. “How are you still this awkward around Jiho?” The older of the two stifled a laugh. “Hyung~” Haechan whined. “It’s not like that.” He added with a grumble. “Okay buddy, whatever you say.”

[2017 | Dinner Buddies | SM cafeteria]

On his way to the table where his hyungs were already eating, Haechan stopped to watch a scene unfold in front of him.

The doors to the elevator had just opened revealing a dishevelled Jiho, still wearing her school uniform, stumble into the hallway of the cafeteria. Just as she entered she spotted the other trainees walk past her. “Hey!” She held up her hand smiling towards the girls, they all stopped hesitantly and Haechan couldn’t help but catch the way some of them rolled their eyes.

“Are you already leaving? I thought we’d eat together?” Jiho smile was still plastered on her lips, seeming oblivious to the cold looks she was getting. “We already finished, you can go eat alone. See ya~” One of the older girls smirked waving at Jiho and the other girls quickly followed before they all walked away.

A deep sigh left the Jiho’s lips and her head and shoulders dropped significantly. However when two feet walked into her vision she perked up and found Haechan looking at her with a sad smile. “You saw that right?” She chuckled, trying to hide her embarrassment and he only nodded. “I guess I’ll just head out now and don’t worry, I’m used to it. That one girl really doesn’t like me.” She tried to laugh off and then turned to leave the cafeteria.

Haechan stopped her. “You haven’t eaten yet though. Come sit with us. Me and the hyungs just got here.” Jiho smiled at the offer and quickly accepted. With how hungry she was feeling she didn’t feel like taking the bus back home for 15 minutes before she could actually eat.

Not even a few moments later Haechan arrived back at the table his members were sitting, but to their surprise he was joined by the young trainee. “Jiho? What are you doing here?” Taeyong asked. “I got ditched by the other girls.” She explained and the group quickly invited her to sit down with them.

The youngest boy sat down in his original spot next to Mark and in front of Johnny and Jaehyun who all sent him teasing looks. “What?” He raised an eyebrow at the boys. “Seems like you and Jiho are getting closer.” Jaehyun hummed. “Yeah, you seemed to be having a fun conversation before you got here.” Mark mentioned, thinking of how Haechan and Jiho were laughing at something when they walked up to the table. “You guys are so annoying.” Haechan mumbled, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

[2018 | Better Girl | SM library]

Haechan dragged his feet down the hallway of the almost empty floor. It was the beginning of January so not a lot of people were working, and definitely not a lot of artist. This resulted in the, mainly artist floor to be as good as abandoned.

The poor boy was “tasked” by Mark to get him one of his notebooks which he had forgotten during his writing session with Jeno. Haechan really didn’t have to go right now, but he insisted since it meant Mark would have to buy him dinner. Yet here Haechan was, slouching and dragging his body to the right room as if he was forced against his will.

Upon opening the door he heard a soft giggle. “Oh, I’m sorry- Jiho?” He peeked his head inside finding Jiho sat at one of the tables with her phone in hand. She had her jacket tightly wrapped around her shoulders and her nose and cheeks seemed to glow the slightest tint of red. The heater in the room wasn’t on so it was freezing cold. “What are you doing here?”

Jiho looked up at the boy but the second she locked eyes with his she almost burst out laughing. “You make a better girl than I do.” She said, forcing herself to stop laughing. “What are you talking about?”

Curious about what Jiho meant he circled around the other tables so he could look over to what she was watching on her phone. “Ten oppa sent this to me.” She tilted her phone towards Haechan only for him to get hit by memories. He didn’t expect to get confronted by that red polka dot dress and long brown wig again. “OH MY GOD! Please stop watching that!” He reached for her phone and quickly turned the video off while Jiho was freely laughing.

Once the boy was calmed down he let himself fall onto the chair next to Jiho. “This is so embarrassing” He muttered into his arms, in which he was hiding his face. Jiho reached out her hand to pat the boy’s back.

“Don’t worry about it. People say I dress more like a boy, so there’s nothing wrong with wearing a dress when you’re not a girl.” She smiled. Haechan looked up, hoping that Jiho was being serious, but when he saw her trying to hide a smirk he groaned. “For real, you didn’t look too bad, if I do say so myself.”

This caused Haechan to look up and smile as well. “Yeah, I looked pretty good right?” He said in a cocky way prompting Jiho to chuckle. “You looked fabulous.” She complimented in an exaggerated tone. The two then shared a big wordless smile before they went on to do their own things again.

---

PART 2

Side Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAECHAN 🌻☀🐻

idk if you guys mind long posts, I just decided to cut it here and do 2018-2021 (post JiHo’s debut) in a second post to keep the length of all my posts on my blog similar. It’s possible though that part 2 is going to be a bit long, since I don’t know how much I’ll be writing for it

fun fact: I save my little collages (btw those photo’s of Haechan are soooo pretty i’m getting bias wrecked SO hard) on my laptop with the member x JiHo’s shipnames, I suck at choosing shipnames tho. So Haechan and JiHo’s shipname is HyuckHo atm, which I both hate and think is kinda cute/funny at the same time. I also thought about JiChan, JiHae or HaeJi but idk

that was just a little unnecessary insider information

I hope you have a good day/evening/night!! <3