#AND HE SEES HER PURE TALENT AND MAKES SURE SHE GETS RECOGNIZED BY PULLING STRINGS

[francixoxoxo]

Coryo x a ballerina reader has me in a CHOKEHOLD ITS GETTING ME OUT OF MY SLUMP

[djarinsbeskar]

EXPLORATION ARC: PART 3 - CRASH LANDINGS

A/N: I think I’ve read and re-read this part so many times that I’m not sure I’m fully happy with it anymore. However! I do hope you can all enjoy the latest instalment, with our lovely Din (finally) getting some well earned attention.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 14.4k (I have no self control I’m sorry if it drags on)

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: language, (some) dirty talk, SMUT! - oral (m receiving including deepthroating and gagging), handjobs, fingering, Din being slightly awkward before embracing his dom side

Summary: It’s mighty hard to distract yourself from your mysterious and alluring shipmate, so why bother?

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You could say with some confidence that most times in your life, you had smooth landings.

A small swell in your stomach as a ship glided down into atmosphere. The gentle, paced approach of land or sea, of mountains, forests and cities materializing as you descended. The gradual growth of buildings, speeders and individuals from pinpricks into distinguishable features of the landscape. A smooth landing was like sliding into a warm bath, where you only realized how good the water felt when it was lapping around your ears and soothing away the aches of a bad day; the touch down of a ship letting you bask in being on solid ground once more.

Sometimes, you admit, there were rough landings.

Your heart hammering in the back of your throat while you desperately tried to smother the creeping nervousness with every bump of turbulence or rattle of a ships’ engine. The rapidly approaching planet being anything but a welcome sight; the hollow, raw sensitivity to every noise both inside the ship and out suspending you in time before the worst passed. Rough landings to you, were like rolling down a hill as a child from a grassy knoll, the incline of which – to an adult – was nothing more than a slight slope. Chaotic in the movement as your head became dizzy from spinning, but once laying on your back and laughing breathlessly up at wispy clouds, you realized it wasn’t so very bad after all. The same could be said when a ships mechanical functions and sensors righted themselves through automation or a talented pilots guide to land… not so very bad in hindsight.

And then there were crash landings… rare but staggering in the impression they left.

Moments where you weren’t sure if you were hyperventilating or holding your breath, if up was down and if the ship you flew was evening functioning beyond alloying gravity to pull it mercilessly towards wreckage and death. Total clarity and yet, an inability to focus on any one thing as the rapid descent fogged any ability to see the ground coming hard and fast. The shrill alarms and warning lights ceaselessly reminding you of how fucked you really were. The adrenaline it inspired – having nowhere to go – could make you giddy and exhilarated despite the danger. In your life, the feeling of a crash landing couldn’t be compared to the physical; they were the sinking realization of someone falling out of love with you, of the betrayal from a loyal friend, the abandonment of a lifelong support. They were the serendipity of a chance meeting, the recognition of a hidden talent and the reciprocation of long held feelings. Crash landings were all the times you had ever been blindsided and helpless to prevent them: an embodied vulnerability.

The day you landed on Nevarro was a crash landing in more ways than one.

One being the literal – survived by the seat of your pants – landing that had you questioning Mando’s ethnicity beneath the helmet. Was he from Corellia? Or Maker-forbid, Pamarthe? Because there was simply no way, no way, that he managed to pull off that landing with one engine blown and a fleet of pirates on his tail. But he did, and you were all alive because of it. He guided the Razor Crest like it was an extension of himself, completely in control of every movement and never anything but calm as he did so.

For as long as you had known the Mandalorian, he had owned the fossil that was the Razor Crest, and now you could see why. You wanted to weep and apologise to her for every stray thought you had about how old and outdated she was. You knew a brand new gunship that people paid obscene amounts of credits for wouldn’t have survived the same strain the Razor Crest was just put under.

You had come to think of the two – Mando and the Razor Crest – as mirrors of each other; intimidating, ageless and well able to endure more than a ship – or a human body – was naturally capable of. It endeared you to both of them more than you already were.

The other proverbial crash landing you experienced that day, was the incident that preceded your less than desirable entry onto the Nevarro; the one that stripped away all pretense and ignorance that had strained your relationship with Mando in the weeks prior.

After hastily grabbing the child from his pod and staggering back up the ladder one handed as the ship shook violently to strap you both into the co-pilot chair, you didn’t have the presence of mind to notice the heavy scent still permeating the cockpit, or the slightly uncomfortable feeling of your release drying on your thighs. You couldn’t even begin to wrap your mind around the fact that Mando, that stubborn, stoic, recklessly unattainable man you had spent years patching up over and over again, had gotten you off with just his thigh and a few well placed rolls of his hips.

You were too busy trying not to panic at the prospect of dying or being captured which really, would just be your rotten luck after finally seeing the immovable control the Mandalorian exerted, waver. You were distracted from those thoughts right up to the point where the rough rasp of Mando’s voice as the pirates engaged with the Razor Crest’s commlink made your prior activities glaringly obvious. His voice, still thick and heavy with his unfulfilled released gradually morphed into a cold anger as he shut off the connection when the pirates’ demanded payment for your lives.

Of the things you came to realize about Mando since travelling with him, one of the few that surprised you was his refusal to negotiate with nearly everyone he encountered. It gave the small allowances he made when you treated him – and the many he gave the kid most days – a lot more weight. But you didn’t have time to think about that as he dodged shot after shot.

Your landing on Nevarro was a combination of whiplash, soot and precarious rocking before the Razor Crest skidded to a final, jarring stop a few meters away from the closest ship docked outside the main town entrance. Only when the ship stayed upright instead of bowling over from the momentum did you allow yourself to breathe again, grounding yourself back in the cockpit despite your stomach being left somewhere in space.

The return of your breathing and the realization that you had in fact survived, allowed the reality of what happened before to slam to the forefront of your mind.

You dry humped a Mandalorian. The Mandalorian. Him. Mando.

Like a kitten in heat… the echo of his words had heat instantly returning to your face at the memory. You remained flushed even as you attempted to distract yourself by running an unnecessary mental check on your body for injury. Apart from a small ache growing in your head from the whiplash, you were good as new. Too good if you were being honest, and the reason for that was hardly a mystery.

You ran your eyes over the child, smoothing a hand soothingly over his wrinkled head and along one of his ears to make sure he wasn’t hurt, cooing at him gently as he nuzzled back against your chest with a string of sleepy babble. He was more concerned with being woken up than the manner of your landing apparently,

“I know darling, I’m sorry I woke you,” you muttered against his head, the sheer relief that he was out of danger roiling in your stomach and made you close your eyes as his familiar scent invaded your nose while he settled back down to sleep.

As he settled, the cockpit swelled with a heavy silence, reality catching up with you both now that the distraction of pirates and possible death was gone.

The red warning lights and occasional alarm were flicked off one by one with every resounding click of a button. When you first entered the cockpit earlier that day, you struggled to keep your eyes off him and now, now your eyes focused on anything but the man who had groaned your name so sinfully. Those clicks and snaps of levers and buttons – while quiet – were the only sounds that filled the air, enhancing the silence you sat in.

Mando was tenser than before, his shoulders stiff and movements more forceful than necessary as he geared the ship down. A malicious thought surfaced momentarily that he might be regretting what happened already.

You rolled your eyes at yourself, recognizing the ridiculousness of the notion immediately; you had just spent several heart-stopping minutes being chased and shot at and only landed mere moments ago. Of course he was tense. Stars, your muscles had yet to relax from the anxiety inducing minutes before Mando finally out maneuvered them with an unfazed countenance.

But heightened emotions and the insecurities they could bring with them weren’t uncommon after an orgasm. You merely tried to keep the more ridiculous ones at bay, a benefit of maturity and age you appreciated. It allowed you to have had your fair share of purely physical relationships; one night stands and friends with benefits over the years. It wasn’t in you to get overly attached to a sexual partner after the uncertainty of the war. You were certain Mando would be no different. You appreciated sex for what it was; a release, a coping mechanism or simply just something fun to do.

Mando’s arm reached across the small distance in front of you, one final switch and silence reigned once more. He hesitated as he withdrew his hand, resting it heavily on the dash and his helmet turned marginally to look at you, your eyes instantly lifting to the visor. You cursed the damn shiny thing silently; you had never felt the lack of expressions, or small facial tells that might have given you an indication of how he was feeling more than now. The feeling of his gaze didn’t however stop the pang of arousal reawakening after being doused so suddenly before; it simmered low in your stomach now as he watched you.

Your eyes searched his visor, hopefully conveying – if nothing else – that you didn’t regret anything. A soft quirk to your lips and he released a long breath, hanging his head slightly before pushing back up to his seat. Your smile increased subconsciously; he seemed exasperated, not ashamed and that would have to be good enough for you.

It didn’t take long for the silence to turn more comfortable after that, more familiar as he stood from his seat to make his way past you, cape brushing your arm as he did so. He hesitated at the door, considering something before he left. When he evidently came to a conclusion, he turned back to look down at you, forearm resting above his head on the doorframe as he did so,

“I’ll be gone a few hours. The Guild will be by to pick up the quarries so…” he trailed off and you waited expectantly for what he was trying to tell you, “get some fresh air. We’re leaving as soon as I pick up the next batch of pucks.”

You craned your neck to keep your eyes on him and the sudden déjà vu of looking up at him wasn’t lost on either of you as a sharp exhale left the warrior. You nodded a few times to his suggestion, mulling over anything that was low or might need restocking, mind running a klick a minute before an idea sparked in your mind, making you sit up straighter in excitement,

“Mando? Is there an automated banking center here?”

Your question seemed to throw him because he didn’t answer immediately, mind more pleasantly distracted by your appearance,

“Why?” was his only response in the end.

“I want credits, that’s why,” you rolled your eyes in playful exasperation as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, which it was. Why else would you go to a bank?

“The New Republic pay a pension for anyone who served in the Rebellion. It gets fed into an account that can be accessed from most galactic banking centers,” you explained, excited by the possibility of actually having your own credits and being able to contribute rather than living off the credits Mando earned from his bounty hunting.

“Oh,” came the lackluster response, “I don’t know. I’ve never used one before,” he finished simply, dropping his arm from the doorframe and turning to make his way down into the hold without another word.

You deflated a bit in your seat before perking up. No. ‘I don’t know’ wasn’t a negative answer, just an unhelpful one. You chuckled quietly so as not to disturb the child sleeping again you, he was still no better at talking than when you first met him. Perhaps it was simply a case of not being able to teach an old Massiff new tricks. Funnily enough, you didn’t think he needed to. You were adapting well enough to his silence as it was.

You could find out for yourself. You were dying to get off the ship and it was the perfect excuse to explore a new town for the precious few hours you had planet-side, a chance to stretch your legs and get some much needed fresh air. It was also a much better alternative to sitting on the ship and replaying the last few hours in your head, working yourself up over a husky voice and a hard body.

No, that would just drive you mad.

Since he left the cockpit, some of the heat left with him and you were able to lean back and take a long, deep breath. Fuck… but he was still able to get to you without even trying, you admitted yourself as you closed your eyes. You didn’t even have the chance to touch him beyond that momentary glance against the smooth, burning length of him. You never believed in karma before, but you must have done something truly rotten to have been stopped from touching that man.

A warmth filled you at the thought of how good he felt under you; the promise of more taken away before either of you had a moment to think. You felt wrecked from the orgasm he gave you and that hadn’t even required the removal of clothing, let alone his hands or cock.

But he hadn’t finished.

Your brows furrowed at the thought, along with a small swell of guilt in your stomach. You considered yourself to be a generous lover and wouldn’t cheapen the sentiment of wanting him to feel satisfied by thinking you owed it to him. You wanted to make him feel good, knowing the bliss someone else could give you was infinitely better than one’s own hand. You wanted to preen with the knowledge that you could bring this man, this immovable force to his knees in ecstasy.

You wanted to make him feel that good now, not later.

Steeling your nerves, you gracelessly wrestled yourself out of your seatbelt, hindered by the loss of one arm that supported the child. Finally free, you followed the same path the Mandalorian took down the ladder (equally as inelegant but climbing a ladder was awkward with two hands let alone one so you forgave yourself). You hurried over to the child’s over-pram and, once he was tucked in and the pram itself closed, turned to where you had glanced Mando preparing to leave.

He was adjusting something on his vambraces’ control panel, so he hadn’t acknowledged your presence yet, but when he picked up the control that opened the ramp down, you opened your mouth,

“Mando!” you called just before he lowered the ramp onto the lava flats that made up the improvised spaceport on Nevarro.

Your voice stopped him in his tracks, and he turned his head slightly to indicate you had his attention.

Your feet were moving before you knew it, rounding in front of the warrior and removing the push-button control that hung from the wall of the Razor Crest; obviously, a temporary fix that had become a permanent solution. The remote fell easily from his grip when your fingers caressed the back of the hand that held it, your gaze never leaving where you hoped his was behind the visor.

You kept your hand on his as he lowered it down to his side, enjoying the tactile sensation of the buttery leather of his gloved fingers as they netted across your own before you pulled your hand away just far enough to trace along the duraweave at his hip and across the softer, more flexible ribbed armor on his abdomen.

“I—need to check the damage to the ship,” he rasped quietly after the control clattered loudly back against the wall it was attached to, no bite in his words as you stepped into his personal space. As expected, he didn’t move, your eyes searching for any indication of discomfort in his body language and – finding none – drifted down his body appreciatively, a knowing smile dancing across your lips.

“Gotta… collect the payment for---” he trailed off when your fingers returned to where they had been before you had been interrupted in the cockpit. His words petered off on a low exhale and you hummed in approval when you felt he was still half-hard under his flight suit.

“I don’t just take, Mando,” you said quietly so as not to break the little bubble you found yourself in with the Mandalorian. You were almost gentle in your cadence, as if anything louder would spook the intimidating man. Something inside you told you that his acceptance of your touch was no insignificant thing, not to him. You couldn’t pinpoint the reason, whether it was his devotion to his Creed he mentioned or some other personal reasons. Whatever it was, you didn’t take the liberties he afforded you lightly.

You wanted to make him forget his reservations, completely.

Your fingers easily undid the fly at his crotch and fit inside to wrap around the thick girth of his rapidly hardening length. Your stomach flipped at the sheer size of him, making you swallow while Mando braced his forearm on the wall behind you, folding over you slightly from his greater height. The deep sigh he released, a shuddering sound of relief and pleasure spread electricity across you, your body instantly reacting to the guttural sound instinctively. You gave his cock an experimental squeeze as you pulled him out from his flight suit in the hopes of hearing that noise again.

But Maker, your mouth watered when you finally tore your eyes from his helmet to his exposed length.

Rich, tan skin stretched taut across the thick length of his cock as it sat heavy in your grip, a shade darker than the skin you had seen while treating him before. Pearly precum was already beading from the blunt, swollen tip and your thumb automatically swiped through it to spread over the head. You reveled in the low moan you heard in your ear as Mando’s head dropped forward to rest on your shoulder, a shaky inhale making his shoulders shudder.

“It’s okay?” you whispered, needing to be certain. The immediate nod against your shoulder settled the last of your reservations and you gave him a long stroke in return. You wondered briefly if the dryness of your hand was uncomfortable so, releasing his cock briefly, you spat on your palm before wrapping it back around the base and started stroking him steadily.

“Fuck…” his voice was barely above a whisper, his cock heavy and rigid in your fist that barely managed to close around him as you squeezed him firmly.

Stars, he felt divine. All hard ridges covered in velvet skin, a hot pulsing weight in your hand that made you chew on your lip as you imagined the size and weight of him on your tongue or the sweet sting of him stretching your cunt around him. He was bigger than you had had before, and you knew you would probably feel him for days afterwards.

He twitched under your grip, but apart from the occasional shiver and low groan in your ear, he allowed your hand to explore and learn this part of him at your own pace. Your free hand skirted down his side to gently draw his tight balls out too and when you massaged them in your palm, you received a gravelly moan in your ear. It was followed by a heady rasp in that language you still couldn’t place; the sound of it running down your spine pleasantly and making your body react viscerally, your nipples peaked and sensitive against the material of your chest band and wetness soaking your underwear again.

His shoulders sagged as the tension began to bleed from his body, his helmet turning on your shoulder to watch your hand stroking his cock rhythmically.

You were throbbing with renewed arousal from just the feel of velvety steel in your hand and from hearing those low, gravelly sounds you had been thinking about for weeks. Nothing you had fabricated in your mind came close to the reality; deep and rich, they rumbled through his whole body until you could feel their echoes in your own.

Twisting your wrist on an upward stroke, his hips snapped forward and a groan left him. His free hand unexpectedly lifted to grasp the side of your neck, his staunch control wavering. His fingers spread around easily to tangle in the hair at the base of your neck to anchor himself and you had to bite down on your lip hard to keep from moaning at the sound of him panting your name in your ear. Your eyes fluttered closed when he tightened his fingers, holding your head in pace as you increased your pace to match his hips, random twists of your wrist making him curse and groan your name desperately.

“Fuck… kitten, don’t--- fuck, don’t stop,” he panted against the side of your head, the words interspersed with quiet moans as his control continued to bend, his hips thrusting shallowly into your hand as he chased the release that he had been denied earlier. You tightened your grip and it made him practically shake with pleasure. You were only using the weeping precum leaking from his head to smooth your hand along his length but Mando didn’t seem to mind the dry friction that tethered on discomfort. He seemed to like the added sensation that made his cock throb and his mind cloud with a primal desire to fuck.

“You feel so good, Mando…” your own voice was nothing short of a moan itself, heat gathering at your core and reminding you of how empty your pussy was. But you wanted to finish him first, to bring him to the height of pleasure like he deserved before you considered your own release again. The next time you got off, you wanted to feel him completely overwhelm your body with his own, whether that was with his cock or his fingers or hell, even his thigh again. Whatever he would give you.

You massaged his sensitive head at the thought, your cunt clenching. His fingers flexed in your hair, tugging on the strands and pulling a soft gasp from your lips as he lifted his head enough for the cool beskar to press against your forehead. Your eyes flickered frantically across the visor, the strength of his fingers tangling in your hair making your lips part,

“Fuck, you want more already, don’t you?” he growled with a hitch in his labored breathing when your thumb circled the head of his cock again. You didn’t try to hide the way he was making you feel, there was no point with the desire written plainly on your face.

Drunk on the heady, heavy scent of arousal that filled the hold, you nodded desperately to his question and released his balls to run your hand along the perfectly polished beskar on his chest, the warrior shuddering as if he could actually feel you through the armor,

“I want you…” you purred against his helmet before sinking your teeth into your bottom lip when he groaned.

His hand loosened in your hair, fanning up over your cheek and across the edge of your jaw before he cupped it roughly. His thumb swiped across your bottom lip to release it from the hold your teeth had it in. He repeated the motion, slower this time to savor the pillowy softness of the flesh before pressing his thumb into your willing mouth, the fingers he had around your jaw tightening to encourage your mouth to open for him.

You accepted the supple leather eagerly, letting it rest on the flat of your tongue before you closed your lips around it, the stagger in his shallow thrusts and the sharp, distorted exhale through his modulator telling you just how affected he was.

You moaned around his thumb when he pushed it deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth, letting your tongue circle it before sucking on it hard, showing him exactly what you were imagining doing to his cock and eyes still trained on the black shine of his visor. Your mind was filled with the sounds of his raspy groans and the quick drag of your fingers of the soft skin of his cock. You matched the pace of your hand as you sucked on his thumb and when he pressed closer to you, caging you against the wall, you arched against him and keened under his movements.

“You’re fucking filthy, aren’t you?” he muttered breathlessly and slightly awed, as if he had come across something so unexpectedly amazing when he hadn’t even been looking, “you wan---”

He was cut off as his commlink came to life.

“Mando! You ever going to come out? What’s taking so long?” the crackled, disembodied voice sounded from his vambrace, your eyes widening slightly before you deviously picked up the speed with which you stroked him.

Mando hissed, his helmet falling back on his shoulders at the pleasure that set every nerve in his body alight. He pulled his thumb from your mouth but kept his grip on your jaw firm,

“Dangerous game you’re playing, kitten,” he panted, his voice strained as you felt him twitch and grow harder in your grip if it was possible, the thrill of danger you both felt at someone else’s presence turning you both on more than you anticipated.

You ignored his words and watched him from under heavy lashes with a cheeky glint in your eye, “Aren’t you going to answer that?” your question was saccharine sweet, as if you didn’t have your hand wrapped around his thick cock.

Playing Mando at his own game – challenging him – might have been a stupid move, but he had you riding his thigh that very day and now you wanted to even out the playing field. You ached a brow when he didn’t respond, your hand slowing to a stop on his cock even as his fingers dug into your jaw. With a vicious snarl in his own language, you knew you had him beat and started stroking him again as a reward.

“You’ll regret this,” he promised darkly when he released your face to press the connection link on his vambrace currently braced against the wall above your head,

“Looking after the kid, won’t be---” his head snapped down when you sank to your knees now that you were free from his hold, eyes sparking with mischief while you tried to smother the smile that turned your lips up when you looked up at him,

“Don’t you dare,” Mando hissed down at you, even as his head feel forward against his arm when your tongue flicked out to glance across the tip of his cock, a choked moan caught in his throat.

“Dare? Dare what?” Confusion was evident in the booming yet jovial voice on the other end of the link.

“N-nothing Karga. The kid…. The kid is just somewhere he shouldn’t be,” he directed the emphasis down at you as you lapped around his head teasingly, giving him a taste of the soft, wet heat of your tongue and only a taste.

“Ah! Bring him out! I’ve missed the little womprat.”

“Just give me----”

Mando cut the connection off on a loud moan as your lips suddenly engulfed the head of his cock, your own moan at the salty precum on your tongue making you salivate and lap up every drop. Maker, he was big. You circled the head with your tongue a few times and pulled your mouth off him after a few wet suckles so that you could lick a thick strip along the underside, eyes still shining with mischief despite the dark lust clouding them as he shook above you.

Fuck, he was so sensitive. A rush of arousal pooled low in your stomach and you moaned around him when you took him into your mouth again and sucked on the head while stroking the rest of his length. You would have to get used to his size before taking any more of him. But damn, if your eyes weren’t bigger than your belly and you let him sink deeper once, getting about half of him along your tongue before you felt yourself gagging.

“Stars, yes—” he groaned, the tight heat of your mouth making him want to sink his cock as deep as it could go before you pulled off him with a gasp, your saliva making his length glisten.

Neither of you had the time to dawdle; you could feel the coiling tension radiating from him as he dropped his hand to card his fingers through your hair. You could have spent hours kneeling there with his cock in your mouth, happily keeping him on the verge of pleasure, but he needed to go sooner rather than later. Reluctantly, you gave the tip one last lick before using your saliva as lubrication to stroke him quicker when you stood back up, his hand never leaving the back of your head.

“Tease--- fucking tease, always---” the staccato of his speech was dotted with more frequent rumbling moans and when he bit out a curse as your fingers massaged along the thick vein under his cock, he dropped his head back to your shoulder, the space between you reducing to only as much as your hand needed to jerk him off.

“You can get me back later, Mando,” you purred, squeezing the head lightly, “but right now I want you to cum.” Your free hand went back to palming his balls, rolling them between your fingers and you could feel them tightening in your hold. Your cunt clenched needily when the Mandalorian actually whimpered.

He had slipped back into his native language as he muttered darkly in your ear and even if you didn’t understand the words, the rasp and sinful promise in them as his tone became more and more desperate was enough to make another gush of wetness drench your pussy.

You knew it hit him the moment his spine went rigid, and he choked on a gasp, his hand tightening almost painfully in your hair reflexively. You slowed your pace with a whimper, lazily stroking him through his orgasm as several thick ropes of cum splattered against your jacket, the rest coating your hand as it dribbled down his cock.

His breathing returned in short, stagnant gasps, his arm taking most of his weight while his forehead rested heavily on your shoulder as he recovered. He hissed tiredly, pushing your hand away when the overstimulation made his spent cock twitch even as it softened. It gave you the perfect opportunity to lift your hand and delicately swipe your tongue along your finger to taste him. Slightly salty and a bit sharp, you sucked the finger into your mouth with a hum and let your eyes drift closed at the taste.

A long groan pulled your eyes open again to see Mando lifting his head lethargically from your shoulder, tilted down to watch you clean your fingers of his release,

“Don’t waste any, kitten,” he rumbled, his voice rougher than usual and you felt a swell of pride at the fatigue you heard in it. His hand wrapped back around your wrist to lead your other fingers to your mouth, as if to be part of this ritual of you eating his release. You were only too eager to lap each of them clean, eyes heavy-lidded as you sought his invisible gaze. His chest was still heaving from his release, breathing labored and he looked absolutely wrecked.

You moaned your approval at his taste, enjoying his eyes on you as you did so. You spread your fingers and turned them to rest against his chest and he hummed a “good girl” as he fingers released your wrist to trace up along your arm and across your collarbone lazily, curious in their exploration as though he had never thought to take the time to simply touch for the sake of touching. He probably hadn’t, you realized when you thought about it a little deeper.

His fingers roamed up along the column of your neck and settled there, flexing before they relaxed into a content hold that made you lean into the solid weight of his caress,

“Be here when I get back,” he rasped, fingers spreading to spear up through your hair at the base of your neck for a brief moment.

He only released you when you nodded, mesmerized by the lights that caught on his visor and the shine of his unpainted helmet.

And then his hand dropped and the overwhelming heat and presence of his body leaning over yours was gone. A single input into his vambrace and the child’s hover-pram followed him dutifully. You leaned back against the wall to gather your own breath that you seemed to have lost and pressed the forgotten control button to release the ramp for him and when it flattened on the lava fields below, he offered you a nod before wandering down to his… welcome party?

You snorted on a laugh to yourself, turning back into the bowels of the ship to shower and get changed before going out yourself.

That’s a first.

  You wasted no time stripping out of your clothes, flushing slightly at the stains on your jacket and pants from Mando’s release. You showered without washing your hair to save time and pulled on a new pair of pants along with a cream, loose linen top. For warmer climates like Nevarro, you were glad you had picked up the piece despite not wearing it often. You liked the feeling of not having layers of fabric clinging to you, the wispy soft length of the fit caressing rather than constricting and the dip in the neckline was tastefully offset by a string tied across your collarbones that gave it a breath of femininity. You stretched your arms above your head and enjoyed the occasional brush of the material on your back before you grabbed a satchel to make use of the unexpected free time you had been afforded without the child.

You greeted the mechanics setting up by the Razor Crest. Mando had obviously sorted the repairs out, whatever they entailed when he left the ship. Poor old girl was in some state after that landing but her condition wasn’t enough to wipe the content grin off your face as you walked in through the main gates with a small spring in your step. Despite the slight hiccup, today hadn’t gone quite so bad as you thought.

Nevarro was an… interesting place, you came to realize after a short while walking through the ragtag streets and down dusty roads. It boasted the same clientele as most Outer Rim planets, but the place wasn’t nearly big enough or significant enough to garner the attention of anyone more dangerous than a petty thief. The presence of the Bounty Hunters Guild also had a hand in dissuading criminals from setting up on Nevarro. It was charming, in a way. But then, you always were drawn to… unconventional things.

The marketplace – when you arrived – was, in a word, chaotic. There was no clear system of stalls or shops, hardly any signage and people seemed to make do with the most uncharacteristic objects upon which to sell their wares. You had seen no less than four sabacc tables, what looked like the carcass of an old mining trolley and you were nearly certain the Jawas were using stacked stormtrooper helmets beneath a large cloth to make a very wobbly table. You hadn’t managed to confirm that one unfortunately, instead trying to garner what information you could about what each stall and shopfront sold to know where to come back to after doing a leisurely loop of the market.

People bustled here and there, chatter flowed freely, and it felt similar to when the Empire first fell; as though a great weight had been lifted from these people, excited to enjoy the liberties freedom gave them. It was infectious, and you were charmed by it; swindling Jawas and all.

You had been delighted to learn from a helpful human man tinkering with the wiring of a pit droid outside a non-descript repair shop that there was a banking center on Nevarro – a New Republic one at that – recently installed with all the changes happening on the planet.

You threw your silent thanks to the Maker that at least now you had access to your own funds and could stop feeling guilty about living off Mando’s hard earned credits. Noticing the stiffness in the man’s legs when he stood to point you in the right direction, you stalled your journey to the bank to enquire about it.

“Only age, love. Nothin’ to be done about that,” he had waved you off with a dismissive chuckle.

You smiled in return with a brief nod before you took your leave, filing through information in your head about age-related joint stiffness as you did. You simply couldn’t help yourself; you hadn’t had a patient in months and Mando was the worst possible one whenever he was injured so you indulged yourself on your way to the bank with a pain relief plan for someone who had been kind to you. Not just because he reminded you of an elderly Mirialan who complained of similar pains what seemed like a lifetime ago.

The banking center was thankfully, a straight-forward experience. A gatekeeper droid scanned your chain code and then all you had to do was select the service you required. Withdrawing the sum of your accumulated pension that had been deposited but untouched for the last few months left you with a satisfying weight to your satchel as you left and was hardly dented as you went about your errands.

After a few wrong turns and your insistence that no, you didn’t need whatever piece of junk the Jawas were trying to peddle, you managed to replenish the food supplies you felt had either been running low or knew the other two enjoyed along with a few much-needed additions to the medical kit you were building and maintaining. You even went so far as to purchase a few tools you had been without since leaving Mynock, medical and otherwise that would no doubt come in handy eventually. The medical supply store was quite well stocked on Nevarro and given the number of bounty hunters you had seen prowling; it really came as no surprise.

A few tubes of heating liniment added to your satchel along with the other bags you carried, and you returned to the repair shop to hand them to the elderly man there. Your hastily demonstrated number of gentle exercises had him chuckling at you good naturedly and an hour later, you were still chatting over tea and some sort of oat biscuits.

 “You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked conspiratorially when you had first sat down gingerly to accept the mug he slid over to you. The question had made you laugh,

“What makes you say that?”

He hummed in contemplation around a bite of his biscuit before pointing what remained of the biscuit at you, “Folk ‘round here are too caught up in their own lives, they don’t be worryin’ about others.”

“It could also be because I’m a medic, no?” you aired your thoughts aloud after a sip of the fragrant tea, a mix of what tasted like ginger and something floral.

“Ah, but you’da charged me if you were workin’ here,” he tapped his nose, a fond wink thrown in for good measure, “go on so, where are you comin’ from then?”

You weren’t able to stop the bubble of laughter that rose, “Pamarthe, for my sins,” you admitted.

“Ah!” he clapped a hand on his knee jovially, “A Pamarthan! Great pilots. Great drinkers!” he chortled, and you snorted into your cup on a laugh, nailed it. You chuckled as you took two biscuits off the table with a small explanation that they were for a child you were looking after. That led you to fielding questions about if the child was yours, but you were able to skirt away from that topic with a well-placed question,

“So, have you ever been to Pamarthe?”

“Me? No, no not with the Empire. Very hard to travel back in those days, very hard. Now, well. I’m not the lad I once was, love. Can’t be off planet hoppin’ anymore at my age. But a few of your people have been known to pass through here, like you.” he explained while you nodded along politely.

“Mores the pity, I can imagine you’d like it. It’s… very different to Nevarro,” you admitted with a glance around the bustling crowds kicking up ash and soot from the extrusive ground underneath. The temperate climate of Pamarthe brought grass and mud, not rock and ash.

“Is it true that all the islands are connected with rope bridges? And not something more modern?”

Your eyes widened pleasantly, the same rush of warmth anyone experienced when faced with the welcome surprise that someone knew about their homeland while not being native themselves,

“You do know your stuff!” a wistful smile broke out on your face at the thought, “and you’re right. It’s just always been that way,” you shrugged, “I’ve never really thought about why some of the old ways were kept; technology is used to prevent erosion of the islands themselves after all.”

“Remarkable, isn’t it? The things we miss that are right under our noses. Simply because that’s the way they’ve always been.” he hummed sagely, and you couldn’t help but agree.

And on your conversation went. It was refreshing, to have a conversation again. You had gotten so used to one-sided chattering on your part to the child and the simple answers from the Mandalorian that didn’t invite any more speaking than necessary.

This was nice, it was a change from the norm. But a part of you started to long for the quiet hum of the ship the longer you stayed away. Perhaps it was down to being unaccustomed to the prolonged sensory overload between the bustling crowds and loud bartering that had you eager to get back, and not just the thought of seeing a roguish warrior who seemed to embody the safety silence could provide. At least, that was what you tried to convince yourself of anyway.

So, bidding your new acquaintance a good evening along with a stern instruction to do his exercises that held no real bite, you left, your pace a little quicker than could be described as casually strolling, “be here when I get back” echoing in your mind and setting flurries of anticipation off in your stomach.

Life still seemed to go on even as the suns in the sky began to age and the shadows they cast on the low buildings and narrow streets shifted. There was still plenty of activity and you casually ruminated on where all these people went when the day was done as you reached the Razor Crest. The Guild had finished unloading the quarries in the time you had been away, and the engine seemed relatively repaired if your untrained eye was anything to go by. Lowering the ramp, you lugged the progressively heavier bags back up into the hold and unpacked them merrily; the outing and the fresh air had done wonders for you a world of good.

With the last of your supplies tucked away under the galley counter, you found yourself with nothing to do. Dismissing the thought of making something to eat after just eating biscuits, you found yourself climbing the ladder to the cockpit instead.

Chewing your lip contemplatively once there, you gingerly sat in the pilot’s chair before you could talk yourself out of it and took in the sweeping view of lava flats as far as the eye could see from this higher vantage point.

Honestly, you chided yourself internally, it’s a chair.

But in the same way you would never sit in your mother’s favorite seat at the table, where the view of the vast ocean framed by towering cliff edges of far off islands was best – even when empty – you still hesitated before you relaxed into the large seat.

Maker, was it always this big? It seemed much narrower when he sat in it… but with space on either side between you and the armrests, you were once again reminded of the size of his presence, unconsciously and perhaps foolishly dwarfed only by your familiarity with seeing him so frequently. You remembered how big he was on your examination table when he had been poisoned. The table had groaned under him and while you had seen taller, you had seen broader, his was the aura that told you he could put every inch of height, every pound of weight to better use than anyone larger or stronger than himself. Heck, even a Houk warlord hadn’t stood a chance against him.  

Your fingers ran along the sturdy leather of the armrests, the dry fabric catching the pads in their exploration and reminding you vaguely of a tookas tongue, an abrasive yet gratifying sensation on your softer skin. Your muscles sagged as you relaxed further, the trepidation of being somewhere you shouldn’t be beginning to melt away and causing your head to rest back.

You enjoyed the tactility more with your eyes closed, the deprivation of sight transforming your awareness of the leather beneath your fingers; the shallow veins of aging cracks along the material, the dips where more pressure was repeatedly placed when the Mandalorian sat here and the small fraying of the stitching at the seams. It became a map under your fingers, with rivers and valleys and mountains and you lost yourself in the idle relaxation it brought to you.

So immersed in your tactile exploration, your ears didn’t pick up on the ramp lowering, nor the presence that paused in the doorway of the cockpit, startled at first before he relaxed against the side of the doorframe, admiring the sight before him where he could leisurely take you in while you were caught unawares.

“Planning on stealing my ship?” his voice came out rougher than either of you anticipated and your eyes immediately snapped open to look over your shoulder from where you sat, lips parted in a surprised ‘o’ and looking very much like you had been caught.

You took him in from your position and, after running your hand along the armrest to find the correct button, swung the chair around to face him. You were quite comfortable where you were and didn’t fancy getting up despite your prior hesitation. One leg crossed delicately across the other, you rested your chin on a propped-up hand with a grin,

“If I wanted to steal your ship, I’d have gotten it months ago,” you teased, the familiar ground you had somewhat lost with him over the last week making a welcome return, “you’d have never even known.” you finished confidently with a wink.

Mando said nothing for a moment, assessing your words and mannerisms, “You think you could steal a bounty hunters ship from right under his nose and not get caught?” he hummed, his disbelief evident in his dismissive tone, “Please.”

“No?” you tapped your fingers along your cheek where they rested, “You seemed pretty out of it after I had your cock in my mouth,” you threw at him casually, tone light as if you were merely discussing what you wanted for dinner, smirking at the surprised choke it pulled from him, “probably be pretty easy for me then, wouldn’t you say?”

His body stiffened as he collected himself at the abruptness of your words, fingers flexing on his arms where he had them crossed across his chest and head shifting to look away from you before his visor refocused itself on where you sat,

“I don’t think you were much better, kitten,” his husky voice was deeper than it had been, thicker.

Your stomach fluttered at that stupid fucking nickname, the rolling rasp of it on his tongue only enhanced by the natural lilt of his accent. Your flare of temper gave him the time to push off the wall and saunter over in that arrogant way you hated as much as loved and pressed a hand to the back of the seat by your head,

“I think sucking my cock got you wetter than riding my thigh, didn’t it?” he rumbled, as though his question was merely a token gesture, used to amplify the truth in the statement that came before it, “I don’t think you’d be able to do anything, let alone steal my ship.”

It was your turn to be flustered now, dammit. You had the high ground for all of two minutes before he effortlessly flipped the control. Your body thrummed with how close his was but not one part of him even brushed against you; not the coarse fabric on his arm where it was braced on the seat, not the solid beskar on his legs against yours, nor his helmet against your forehead as he leaned over you. Touch was not a language Mando knew well beyond violence, but he was well aware of how to use his body to intimidate… to dominate… to captivate.

Your eyes stayed on his visor, focusing your attention on breathing normally and to not let the effect he had on your body show. You could feel the heat of his gaze running down your face, over the exposed skin at your collarbones and down the light material of your shirt. The appreciative grunt slipping through his modulator had your thighs clenching together instinctively as the craving you had been distracting yourself from all day reignited with a soft gasp when gloved fingers traced over the bend of your knee that sat crossed over your leg.

“Take these off,” he muttered, patting your thigh once as his fingers traced up from your knee, running them along the outer seam of your pants before pulling his hand away as though it had never touched you and rested it on his belt expectantly as he looked down at you, “I want to see how wet sucking my cock makes you.”

His crass words, so unlike his usual stoic statements were characteristically blunt but filled with a vulgarity that simultaneously shocked you and turned you on. For such sinful words to fall from the mouth of a man who kept his thoughts and emotions in a chokehold, there was a thrilling sense of depravity that exceeded the fact that you had gotten each other off already today.

You leaned back languidly against the pilot’s chair, watching him leisurely as he stood over you and made no attempt to hide the way your eyes trailed down his body. You rode his thigh and sucked his cock already; was there really any point in trying to hide your attraction to him anymore? Life was too fucking short.

“Are you asking me to go down on you again, Mando?” you purred, loving the virility in his tone; there was nothing you loved more than an insatiable lover, it boded well for him being able to keep up with you.

“I’m telling you that if you don’t remove them now, you won’t be allowed to.”

There was a barely restrained thread of anger surfacing in his voice, possibly the residual effects of making him answer the commlink from his contact in the Guild while you had your hands and mouth on his cock, but instead of the spark of fear your instinct would usually alert you with, a trickle of desire kissed your senses instead.

“An interesting punishment,” you hummed, fingers toying with the waistband of your pants, “given that you’d be missing out as well.” Even as you said it, you were uncrossing your legs. He pushed back a pace or two from where he loomed over you to give you room or to get a better view, you didn’t know. Lifting your hips from the seat, you shimmied the form fitting material over your ass and down your legs, kicking the material off one foot before the other, panties staying on.

His helmet snapped up from the smooth skin of your legs to your face and, in a move that had a sense of déjà vu settling over you both, you reclined back comfortably against the chair again, your eyes dancing with the same challenge he had thrown to you on Klatooine.

The pants can come off, but the underwear stays on.

For now, you told yourself, but he didn’t need to know that right away.

The warning growl he emitted was the sweetest response you could have wished for. Revenge after all, was better served ice cold.

Your move. Your eyes dared him with a glimmer of amusement and a quirk of your brow even as a knot of anticipation began to curl in your stomach.

He surprised you by sitting in the co-pilots chair you usually occupied after a tense few seconds, leaning back into the leather, relaxed.

You frowned, breaking the nonchalant façade you tried to deceive him with as your mind scrabbled to figure out what he was planning. You hadn’t anticipated him sitting away from you and simply watching you. You were about to question him when your lips parted as the hand resting on his thigh lifted to palm himself through his flight suit slowly.

Your teeth dented your bottom lip, shifting yourself in the seat while your eyes immediately focused on the way his hand flexed and curled around the prominent bulge and your fingers itched at the memory of his cock filling your hand.

His game, obviously, was to drive you bantha-shit insane, because the moment he unzipped his fly to pull himself from the tight confines of the flight suit, already hard and leaking, you wanted him.

You’ll regret this…

The growl reverberated in your mind from hours before. He was using the very thing you had used against him, on you. Your eyes glazed over as they followed the steady path of the Mandalorians fist as he stroked himself, small grunts the only sounds he seemed willing to let you hear.

You swallowed, heat rose to your cheeks and your skin becoming uncomfortably hot. It made you increasingly aware of your own arousal as you remembered the weight of his cock in your hand, the pulsing length of him on your tongue… your tongue peaked out to taste your bottom lip, all traces of his earlier release unfortunately gone.

Your eyes darkened when a quiet groan was picked up by the modulator, his head dipping with a ragged breath as his thumb swiped over the swollen head. You had to stifle a moan of your own when you recognized that the movement of his hand was mimicking yours, twisting momentarily on the upward stroke and squeezing as it came back down to the base.

Your idle fingers itched to touch yourself and one hand began subconsciously moving between your thighs as they spread enough give you space. But the Mandalorians sharp eyes – even clouded with lust – didn’t miss a thing as his head rolled around to look at you,

“Hands by your sides, kitten.”

His voice was dangerously low, thick with lust as he slowed his strokes to a lazier pace, prolonging his desire and by default, prolonging your inability to touch yourself. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke, and it made you huff indignantly, but you fisted your hands on the leather beside your bare hips nonetheless. The ease with which he gave commands, the casual control he exuded, it sent tremors of need through you, a baser side of you eager to obey even if it conflicted with your stubborn nature.

“Good girl,” he rasped with an unmistakable tease lilting his voice when you settled, “keep behaving and I’ll let you taste it.”

You hated to admit it, but the promise of having him in your mouth again was almost worth the silent torture you were being made endure now, cunt throbbing in neglect and skin humming with sensitivity. You had always been able to succeed with a mind over matter approach, with the constant knowledge that the reward was worth the work it took to achieve it but Maker, was he making it difficult.

The minutes he sat away from you felt like hours despite your resolve and the temptation to touch yourself only grew as the air grew thick with tension. Your eyes drank their fill of the warrior getting himself off mere feet away from where you sat half-naked. The sound of his hand stroking himself and those breathy exhales were going to drive you mad.

Your panties felt uncomfortable against your sensitive skin and you cursed your stubbornness in keeping them on, shifting in your seat and making yourself whine quietly when they brushed against your clit, drawing Mando’s helmet down to look at you once more,

“Take them off,” he repeated breathlessly, and you wanted to weep in thanks, eagerly lifting your hips to push the offending piece of clothing down your legs. You didn’t have time for shyness or modesty when the cool air on your bare cunt was soothing for all of five seconds before the throbbing heat made you ache with a renewed need to touch your clit, to somehow relieve the pressure. The approving groan that rumbled from the Mandalorian was a stroke to your ego as you spread your legs for him, revealing your damp folds to him and tempting him to break the rules of his own game.

“Maker, I can see how wet you are from here,” he moaned and picked up the pace of his stroking momentarily, caught up in the vision you presented him with, half naked in his pilot’s chair; you were a veritable galactic pin up girl.

You made a small noise of impatience, your darkened eyes pleading with him as your body burned under his unseen gaze.

“Tell me what you want,” he grunted, squeezing the base of his cock to slow himself down from simply getting himself off as quickly as possible as he would normally.

“Your cock,” you answered shamelessly before tagging a quiet “please?” to the end which seemed to break him just like you hoped it would.

He stood not a moment later and made the few steps to stand beside you and you wasted no time in greedily wrapping your fingers around the thick base of his cock. You turned your head so your lips could instantly wrap around the head of his cock again, beyond teasing him and addicted from the brief taste you had of it earlier in the day and making you moan around him in both pleasure and relief.

The vibrations made Mando hiss as they ran through him before his head tipped back on a moan when you relaxed your jaw to take a bit more of his length into your waiting mouth, tongue massaging as much of the underside as it could reach. You began a steady rhythm moving up and down his cock, your muscles relaxing to let him move easier along your tongue.

Your hand stroked what you couldn’t take into your mouth, using your saliva to glide your hand down to his base with a firm squeeze. You knew it would take a little time to get familiar with taking him in fully, so you enjoyed each drag of his length over your tongue and lips, along with the occasional teasing scrape of your teeth that had his breath hitching.

He gripped the headrest behind you when you pulled off him to latch your lips wetly along the length, licking and kissing your way to the base nestled among dark, trimmed hair, your hand massaging the head as you did so. The sight made you hum and lick a long strip back up the underside to suckle on the head once more. You had deduced he was probably dark haired given the beautiful tan of his skin, but having it confirmed made your stomach clench giddily.

Your eyes lifted back to Mando’s helmet when he cupped your jaw, pressing his thumb slightly against your cheek for you to open your mouth so his cock could settle back on your tongue. You moaned, taking his none too subtle hint and started sucking him off again in earnest, your saliva and his precum leaving his cock messy and wet and the sounds it made as you sank your head down on it were profane and loud in the otherwise silent cockpit.

You keened when you felt a gloved hand trace down your front, ghosting under the swell of your breast before giving it a tentative squeeze that had you whimpering around him and relaxing your throat to ease more of him into your mouth. He grunted and kneaded the soft flesh of your breasts above the thin linen shirt at the perfect heat of your mouth, learning you as you were him.

You dug your nails into the backs of his thigh to stop yourself from gagging when his tip pushed against the back of your throat, the sudden sensation making him jerk his hips forward with a gasp of your name and a hard squeeze to your breast while tears formed in your eyes. The slight burn was delicious, and the sounds he made as you took as much of his cock into your mouth as possible were even more so.

“Fuck yes…” he groaned, your mouth molten around his cock while he rocked against you shallowly, his gaze roaming your entire body and when it fell on the thin ring of ink surrounding your left thigh, his cock twitched in your mouth and caused you to pull back enough to swirl your tongue around the sensitive head before sinking back down on him to take in as much as you could.

The sound of him choking on a moan encouraged you to hollow your cheeks and swallow around him, your eyes glittering up at him with a mix of tears and teasing when he jerked his hips forward again, pushing his length that bit deeper.

“Such a… fucking filthy thing---” he moaned, releasing your breast to tangle his hand in your hair to slow your movements as you withdrew your head eagerly and sank back down on it, “but so… so fucking thorough in your examinations.”

You pulled off him, a breathless laugh leaving your mouth even as trails of saliva kept you connected to his cock and messed up your mouth and chin. You pumped him with your hand while you rested the head against your cheek,

“What did you call it again? Coercive medical attention?” your voice was hoarse, but it dripped with a lovely mix of amusement and desire.

“So long as it ends with my cock in this perfect fucking mouth, I’ll accept medical attention of any kind,” he bit out, the slight tremble in his voice when you gave him a long hard stroke was endearing in a way you hadn’t anticipated the warrior being.

“I’ll believe that when Mustafar freezes over,” you chuckled, giving his cock a squeeze for good measure before taking him back into your mouth.

“Maybe we’ll go there then---” he cursed when you let him hit the back of your throat again, “be—be the only way to shut you---” he never did get to finish that sentence, his head falling back on his shoulders with a sound that got caught in his throat when you took the remaining few inches into your mouth valiantly and swallowed hard around him, breathing deeply through your nose.

Feeling yourself start to gag, you pulled off his cock halfway, gasping around him before starting to lazily bob your head in order to get your breath back and do it again. His hand tightened in your hair but allowed you to move at your own pace. Your attention was pulled back up to him when he leaned over you slightly, a slap to your inner thigh making you moan and spread them for him eagerly.

“Fuck…” he groaned, and you felt the soft leather of a finger swipe through your folds, making you whimper. He growled something you couldn’t quite pick up with your blood pounding in your ears from that single jolt of pleasure he gave you but when you felt him again, it wasn’t the cool leather of his gloves, but the warm skin of his fingers instead.

The realization made you jump on contact with a mewl as he spread your wetness along your dripping cunt. You knew what he would find there without him having to say a word. Slick, swollen and burning with need as you keened, your sounds were muffled by his cock filling your mouth. You struggled to keep the lazy pace of bobbing up and down on his length when you forgot how to breathe from the slight calloused tips of two of his fingers spreading your slick lips and pulling a vicious growl from the Mandalorian.

“All this from sucking my cock?” his voice was labored, control razor thin as he struggled not to merely grip your head and fuck your mouth to chase the release dangling before him. It seemed every part of you was hot and wet and soft as his fingers spread through your folds and his cock buried in your mouth. Your bright, wide eyes, glassy with lust looking up at him made that struggle even harder as his hips rolled involuntarily, your cheeks hollowing and wet tongue massaging under the prominent vein pulsing on the underside of his cock.

You were addicted to the way he sounded, the ever-present discipline he exuded daily was being pulled taut as more primal urges overtook him. It was an intoxicating reminder of his humanity, of the man under the armor and the mere thought of his possible expressions beyond an impassive helmet as curses and moans and filth fell from his lips, had a wave of wetness slowly pulsing from your neglected pussy.

“Oh fuck--- fuck what, what was that--” he rasped, his fingers diving into the arousal that dripped down your open thighs and over your cheeks to the seat underneath you, making a mess. The sudden gush seemed to short circuit something in Mando, his mind struggling to focus on anything but the soaked cunt under his fingers.

When the pads of his fingers brushed over your aching clit, you cried around him, squeezing the base of his cock, and making him hiss your name; a surprised hitch that had him nearly doubled over you in pleasure. The next brush of his fingers was not as surprising, but no less intense before he began a stead rhythm of circling your clit, dipping his fingers down into your sopping folds before dragging that wetness back to soothe over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You tried to mumble something, your head foggy with the need to cum from being filled with something other than your own fingers, but his cock garbled your words, the two of you slipping into that tangled, desperate side of lust. You couldn’t bring yourself to take him out though, lamenting the loss even for a moment as you greedily tried to take more of him again, the choked gasp above the only reward you needed when your nose brushed the coarse hair at his base. It had to be a sin, to feel this good from giving someone else pleasure. Maker, you could get off just by sucking this man’s cock for hours and be satisfied.

Mando however, didn’t seem to share that sentiment and when he suddenly pushed a finger into your tight cunt, your eyes rolled closed as you both moaned in unison. Your walls fluttered and clenched around the thick, foreign digit and you felt your orgasm cresting at your sensitivity before it abated somewhat when his finger settled knuckle deep inside you.

“Stars, so tight for me, kitten--- tight and wet and fuck,” he spat as you clenched around him again at how wrecked he sounded, giving his cock a particularly hard pull into your mouth while you whimpered around him, “can just imagine, shit, imagine how tight you’ll be around my cock.” His words were almost slurring in their delirium and you knew that if you tried to speak, you wouldn’t sound much better. Especially not when he added a second finger into your pussy and started pumping them achingly slow and more controlled than he sounded.

“So big, you- your fingers--- more,” you whined after pulling his cock from your mouth to suck in a breath, the task suddenly becoming manual as you struggled to remember what came first, inhale or exhale? “I want more, always more,” you were babbling against his cock now, begging words interspersed with wet licks and kisses to the length as if you could convince him with affection to give you what you wanted.

“That’s it kitten, fuck, t-tell me what you want—” Mando was panting now, the quick jerks of your wrist along his cock, slippery from your drool and saliva making his own breathing an unbearable task as his fingers pumped inside you harder, the wet sounds filling the cockpit both mortifying and evocative, “such a greedy, hungry, smart-mouth medic I—shit.”

He almost sounded angry, the tempestuous rumble rolling from his voice like thunder, but paired with one hand roughly thrusting a third finger into you and the other carding his fingers reverently through your messy locks, you knew he was as unhinged as you were with the intensity of the pleasure you were somehow able to give each other. As if the tension that had been steadily growing from that first fateful night on Klatooine was suddenly boiling over, spilling, and hissing as it stoked the flames beneath; a closed circuit that could no longer be stopped or broken.

When his thumb began working tight, practiced circles around your clit as his fingers fucked you into the chair, you knew you wouldn’t last long. The looming pressure that had been building the moment he asked if you planned on stealing the Razor Crest was coming at you faster than a TIE fighter,

“Gonna cum, Mando--- Mando, feel so good, please---” you whimpered, grinding your hips down on his hand desperately as your orgasm drew near.

He slowed his fingers despite your protestations, and he gentled your frustration with a well-placed curl of his fingers inside you, “Shh, shh—fuck, not yet---” he started and you whined as you sucked the head of his cock back into your mouth ardently, as if somehow, that would change his mind, a mixture of saliva and precum drooling down the sides of your mouth as you messily lapped at him, “fuck… kitten--- wait.”

He pulled himself from your mouth and his fingers from your cunt, chuckling breathlessly at your frown as you glared up at him, “wait…” he purred, the sound running down your spine and across your overheated skin while he hooked one hand under your knee to drape your leg over the armrest, giving him a better view and greater access to your soaked pussy.

You shivered as he gathered some of your arousal to coat his fingers before your jaw slackened when he spread your juices along his cock – the shudder down his spine evidence of just how effected he was – until it glistened with a combination of your saliva and arousal. The visceral image of your arousal coating his cock had any last shred of control or shame disappearing, impatience taking its place.

 It was filthy, and your mouth watered at the sight of him. You dragged your eyes up to his visor slowly, eyes dark and cheeks flushed, lips parted and chin messy from your ministrations. The resounding growl he released had your cunt quivering, missing his fingers and it pulled an impatient whine from your lips as your nails raked down his covered hip.

“Mando…” you began, eyes dropping back to his cock with a silent plea.

He led his cock back into your waiting mouth, running the head along your plump bottom lip and smearing the mess already at your mouth and chin before pressing it back against your waiting tongue. His fingers immediately returned to push into you and began fucking you in earnest. The tangy taste of your own arousal mixing with his made you moan around him and your eyes flutter shut, your hips grinding down on his hand immediately once he found a rough, fast pace to bring you over the edge. You greedily engulfed the length of him, your hand stroking along the base as you hummed when you felt him get impossibly harder on your tongue.

His fingers curled against that small patch inside of you and made your hips jerk up to his rough chuckle, “there we go, good girl---” he panted, his thumb once again returning to your clit which had you practically sobbing around him with the need for release. You had orgasmed only earlier today and yet, it felt like you had been edged for weeks, months even. You were so desperate to come apart that when it did hit you, you were blindsided.

“Fuck, fuck! That’s it, kitten---” Mando pumped his fingers through your quivering walls, slower as they clamped down around him, trying to keep him inside while your cries bounced off the steel surrounding you in the cockpit and soaking his hand in your release. It kept going, for several long seconds and you were certain your brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen with how you were unable to take in a full breath and all you had to ground you, was your hand working over the solid thick length in front of you.

“So good, it’s so good---” you heard yourself babble, moaning his name like a prayer as you latched your lips to his length to drag open-mouth kisses to the shaft, hips still rocking against his hand as the last convulses ran through you, “want your cum, Mando- “

He didn’t respond, his fingers running sloppily over your clit once more as you whined with the overstimulation and tried to pull away despite being trapped against the seat,

“Another. Give me another,” he groaned, his fingers leaving no room for negotiation as they began a renewed onslaught on your sensitive nerves, already raw and frayed from coming so hard already. You shook your head even as you lapped at his head, eyes teary and unfocused as you looked up at him, “I can’t, it’s too much—”

“’More’ you said…” he released your hair to grip under your chin, pulling your head up to be pressed against his helmet, “I’m gonna… shit, I’m gonna give you as much as you need.”

His voice was strained, and you could hear it wavering the closer he got to his own release. But even in your foggy mind, you could feel the steel determination rolling off him. He wasn’t going to cum until you did. The thought alone made you whimper and despite your earlier declaration, a fresh wave of arousal pooled around his fingers as he pressed them back into you.

“Do it…” you heard yourself whisper, lowering your head enough to nuzzle the head of his cock against your cheek while he still held your jaw and you hoped you were meeting his eyes behind the helmet, “give me everything, e-everything I’ve been missing.”

His answering growl and the press of his thumb into your mouth for you to bite down on was all you could remember clearly before he built up a brutal pace once more. Your head fell back against the seat once he released you at the overwhelming friction on your swollen cunt, but Mando wasted no time in guiding your head back to his cock and with a whimper, you took him back into your mouth easily, his tip brushing the back of your throat now without hesitation as you swallowed.

His fingers stuttered while he groaned before regaining their rhythm and curling up against that spot inside you, a flick of his thumb against your clit sending flames scorching over your skin again as your release approached embarrassingly quick,

“Better than I ever imagined… this mouth—” he moaned, “you’re so wet and fuck… I bet you taste—” he was cut off on a long moan as you let him sink down your throat, breathing heavily through your nose before pulling back and repeating the action, your hands reaching into his flight suit to fondle his heavy balls once more.

You were equally determined to make him cum, a small taste earlier hadn’t been enough to satiate your craving and with a second orgasm about to overtake you, you were ravenous with the need to have him cum down your throat before you were struck dumb with the pleasure his hands would give you.

His breathless chuckle, such a foreign sound to come from him, made you want to smile had you not been preoccupied, “trying to beat me, kitten?” he asked, slowing the thrusts of his fingers so they were longer and harder, the change in pace heating you up beyond boiling point and you gave his balls a gentle squeeze in retaliation.

He was breathing hard, trying to limit his hips from thrusting into your warm mouth but even you could tell the shallow thrusts highlighted how close he was. But given his stubbornness, he doubled down on his efforts and with a final hard press on your clit and a perfect curl to his fingers your release crashed over you, less intense than the first but more surprising as it washed over you and kept you quivering and shaking under him, trying to ride it out with a silent cry. He pulled you through it once again with lazy strokes of his fingers, but they were messy, sloppy as he finally allowed his head to drop back on his shoulders, the tight leash he had on his control finally snapping,

“Yes, fuck— you want my cum, kitten?” he snarled when you nodded around his cock, eagerly pumping him and the change in his breathing told you he was nearly there.

He braced the hand that had been inside you to the back of the chair while the other tangled in your hair to keep you in place, his hips movements uneven and erratic before he stilled, your mouth opening for his cock to rest on your tongue while you pumped him.

He growled your name when his cock pulsed, a rope of cum hitting your cheek before you closed your lips around the head for him to continue coming in your mouth, the thick fluid coating your tongue and making you moan at the taste of him before you swallowed it down. You sank your lips slowly down the length of him, coating him with any residual cum in your mouth while you languidly basked in both your orgasms with a fond lick to his tip.

His shoulders lifted and fell in great rolls as he struggled to catch his breath, the heat in his invisible gaze not lost on you as you held his cock up to lick it clean languidly, reveling in every twitch you could feel in his muscles as a result.

“Maker…” he whispered into the cockpit, now filled only with your combined breathing. He hadn’t stopped stroking your hair as you cleaned his cock up, and the gentle act belied the gruff exterior he presented. It wasn’t lost on you, even if it might have been unconsciously done on his part in his post-orgasmic haze. Your leg dropped from the armrest to fold closed, and you hummed at the pleasant ache you felt once they were together despite the stickiness of your release drying on your thighs.

Once your tongue had become too much for him, he pulled back from you slightly, just enough to push himself back into his flight suit and with a fleetingly soft caress to the side of your head, he dropped back down in the co-pilot seat where he had first begun. You swiped the warm cum from your face and licked your thumb clean while you both basked in the afterglow.

His helmet tipped back against the headrest but kept it turned towards you, his chest rising and falling in large swells. You probably should have grabbed your underwear to cover up, but you were still basking in the euphoria of two breath-taking orgasms that the most you could do was stretch an arm over your head with a soft moan to release any remaining tension in your muscles, your eyes blinking tiredly at Mando all the while.

“Keep that up, and I’ll fuck you right now,” he rasped; his voice lower from how much he had used it in the last while. He didn’t speak often, but you were tickled to find out how vocal he could be when aroused.

You hummed at the thought, relaxing your arms back by your sides as an amused laugh left you, “A tempting offer, but I think my bones have been liquified.” Your words inspired another unencumbered laugh from you, still high from your orgasm and his posture adjusted slightly as if proud of putting you in this state, “I wouldn’t be much use.”

“Until next time then,”

He sat up, the smooth words making you smile tiredly at the familiar phrase. He ran his bare hand behind his neck, a lethargic groan leaving him as he tried to wake himself up from a stupor and your eyes followed the movement. The flash of tan skin made you chew your lip on a smile, knowing exactly where those fingers had been not a few minutes earlier.

You finally pushed yourself to sit up properly, toeing your underwear closer to you so you could bend and shimmy them up your legs, feeling his eyes follow the movement silently. You decided against your pants, the length of your shirt covering your modesty somewhat and you released a long, satisfied breath before turning your gaze to inky darkness that had engulfed Nevarro while you were occupied.

“Did you finish up with your Guild contact?” you posed, and he nodded once,

“Five more pucks,” he explained simply, standing from the co-pilots seat, and you wrinkled your nose, you guys would be travelling for a while, so it seemed.

“Is the kid still asleep?” you hummed tiredly, “I have biscuits for him.”

“Still knocked out from earlier. We had come back to leave when---” he trailed off to your laughter, standing up once you felt your legs wouldn’t give out from under you and turned the pilot seat back to face the viewport,

“Are you saying I made us late, Mando?” you threw over your shoulder, startled when you found him standing directly behind you, his hand falling heavily to your hips and his chest against your back while he hummed in agreement,

“Exactly. You’re as troublesome as the kid,” he murmured against your temple with a squeeze to your thinly covered flesh while you rolled your eyes at him, no heat in the action as you were more pleasantly preoccupied with the comfortable weight of his hands and the warmth that flowed from them into your body.

“Please. Go on then, get us up in the air since we’re so far behind schedule.” You pressed back against him cheekily before his head leaned back to look down at you as he pondered something for a few moments,

“You do it,” he replied simply.

You blinked, he had never asked you to fly before, excluding the time he came back injured on Scipio, and even then, he hadn’t asked. You had taken it upon yourself to do. You couldn’t help but feel that this was a tentative move on his part, a small gesture of confidence he had in you that you didn’t want to refuse.

“I’ll… check on the kid,” he continued with one last caress to your side before he released you and disappeared out of the cockpit, leaving you floundering.

Orgasms put Mando in a much better mood, you determined with a chuckle, taking a seat again and beginning the routine procedures to take you up and off the planet, running your hands back over the dry leather of the armrests fondly.

Crash landing or not, today had been a pretty good day.

 Stitches Taglist:

@geannad​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @gracie7209​ @pychedelic-star @nova646​ @theflightytemptressadventure​ @wantingtobekorra​ @computeringturtle​ @slayerette26​ @kesskirata​ @greatcircle79​ @boxdyeblonde​ @fangirl-316​ @niiight-dreamerrrr​ @tanzthompson​ @theamuz​ @the-scandalorian​ @gallowsjoker​ @helmet-comes-off​

[acefeather2002]

Love: Something That Is Quite Ineffable (CATS 1998)

We try our best to understand the true meaning of things in our lives. It’s in our nature. Everyone wonders how somethings happen or even why. Sometimes we get an answer, and we can finally understand. But, sometimes we don’t, and we continue to ponder. There is one thing that everyone knows about, somewhat understands, but can never truly be put into words, and that thing is “Love.”

For some people, Love likes to come in, make friends, and live happily ever after. At least, that’s how it went for Plato. A young tom and protector-in-training in his adolescent years. A little goofy, but he’s serious when he needs to be. He makes a few mistakes, but has a good heart nonetheless. Having tagged along Munkustrap and Alonzo since he was a small kit, he had always dreamed of being a protector and truly be able to defend his tribe one day. He has indeed come a long way, taking every tip and word of advice from his mentors and putting them to work.

He just came back from patrol with Alonzo one day when he first met a stunningly beautiful white kitten that was a couple of cat years younger than him. He couldn’t help but stare at the pure white angel that gracefully danced in the open space of the junkyard. Alonzo noticed his gaze, and a smug smirk glided onto his face. “I take it you have the hots for my little sister, huh?” he teased. Plato did a double take to his mentor in surprise and asked in shock, “Wait, what?! That’s your SISTER?!”

Alonzo gave a hearty laugh at the younger tom’s reaction as the latter looked down with a blush. He finally responded from his laughing fit, “Yeah, she is. Beautiful isn’t she?” Plato gave a silent nod as stared back to where the white queen practiced. The kit turned and saw her brother and another tom she didn’t recognize watching her. She gave a smile and gentle wave as she quickly ran over to give her big brother a hug. Alonzo chuckled again at his sister’s antics that he and Plato found adorable before greeting, “Hello to you too, Victoria.” 

“Victoria?” the soon-to-be-protector repeated, “That’s a lovely name.” The queen in question looked up at him and signed a “Thank you.” Plato, of course understood the signing but still gave a slightly confused face. Alonzo noticed his bewilderment as he shyly explained, “Sorry, there was a...complication during her birth that didn’t allow her vocal cords to be fully developed." Victoria looked down a bit, worried that the tom would pity her as her brother continued, "So, ever since she was a newborn, she’s been mute. The main way she communicates is through signing and dance.” 

Plato nodded in understanding but then surprised the two siblings with a smile, “Good thing I studied signing in my spare time.” The two gaped in shock at the revelation, and Victoria excitedly wrapped her arms around his neck with a grin. Plato returned the strong hug just as tight but gentle with a small smile as his mentor watched with a bright and knowing smirk. He watched as the two started talking, or rather signing a conversation, learning more about each other all the while with happy faces. The monochromatic tom walked away and let the two get to know each other more, clearly seeing where this relationship was going and already accepting it.

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

So yeah. Love can be friendly sometimes...

But, sometimes, Love can be a total jerk! It could string you along forever if it wanted to! Stuck in an almost endless chase, but luckily, there are times when you finally catch it. Take the Rum Tum Tugger for example. He always has queens throwing themselves at his feet willing if able to do his bidding just to be his. What they tend to forget, though, is that the Rum Tum Tugger only likes what he finds for himself. He likes to work for his prize. He enjoys the challenge almost as much as a horrible muddle. Well, apparently, it seems the Rum Tum Tugger has finally met his match. The challenge: the Magical Mister Mistoffelees. 

Skilled and talented at everything he does: Check. Sleek, dark black fur that sparkles like the night sky: Check. A sharp tongue that could cut anybody that crosses him with his sass: Triple check!!! Quaxo was everything Tugger dreamed of, and he didn’t even realize it until his song came on and he was called “a terrible bore” by the smaller tuxedo for the first time. Ever since then, he’d been chasing after the magical tom. Unfortunately for him, nothing worked. Every hip thrust only got a scoff in response. Every pick-up line earned him an eye roll. Each time he tried to flirt, the reply would be of remarkable wit and sass that he sometimes wouldn’t know what to say. He was losing his touch...and confidence! What shocked him even more was the day he overheard Mistoffelees talking to his sister, Victoria.

“Come on, Vicky,” the tux tom complained, “It’s obvious that you have a better chance with him than I ever would! And you’re with that Plato character!” “Geez, Quaxo how oblivious are you?” the white queen signed exasperatedly. “I am NOT oblivious!” the magicat argued, “Almost every queen throws themselves at his feet. He could choose any one of you if not all if he wanted!” Victoria gave a sigh and facepawed(Hehe. Get it? Sorry, I’ll stop now). Tugger had to keep from laughing at the exchange but felt discouraged to know that Misto had his heart for another tom until, “What? You actually think I have a remote chance with the Rum Tum Tugger himself?” 

For what Victoria’s face didn’t say, which wasn’t much, her signing made up for, “YES! That’s what I’ve been TRYING to tell you for the last HALF HOUR! THINK about it! The pick-up lines, the flirting, the hip thrusts. He may do that with the other queens, but for YOU? You’re the ONLY TOM he’s ever tried to actually woo. The more he chases you, the more you resist which adds on to the ever growing challenge that HE LIKES!”

Mistoffelees fell silent for a moment and pondered his sister's words. Thinking back, how could he have missed the signs? The occasional stolen side glances, the light blush in both their cheeks when interacting with each other, he even realized that he actually missed the company of the Rum Tum Tugger himself when they were apart! That just added more to the shock factor! "Oh, my Everlasting!" he exclaimed as he facepawed, "You're right! How could I have missed this?!" "Because you're an oblivious, lovesick dork, and I knew I was right when I told you," the queen signed with a smug look on her features.

The tuxedo rolled his eyes playfully annoyed, "Gee, thanks," he replied, dripping with sarcasm before being serious, "I guess I have to find him again. Maybe tell him how I feel?" Realizing the way that idea would likely pan out, he let out a groan laid his face in his paws, "Oh, but then he'll just shrug it off like, 'I knew you'd fall for me one day,' and that's the last reaction that I need!" Victoria laid a paw on her brother's shoulder, urging him to look at her before signing, "I think you should just let him come to you, and once he asks you to be his mate (in his own way, no doubt) then you could say yes." Quaxo looked down again in thought and agreed the idea to be the best course of action. No sooner did he nod when the Maine coon of the matter decided to reveal himself.

"Well," he announced, "There you are, Midnight. I've been looking for you everywhere! Hello, Victoria." He ended his statement with a kiss to the queen's paw and flirty smirk, a shy but silent giggle and rosy cheeks accenting her pure white fur. "T-Tugger!" Misto called out a light blush painting his own cheeks, "What a coincidence because I've been avoiding you everywhere!" "Oh, come off it. You know you love me," the flirty tom teased as he stood closer to him with an overly cocky smirk. The magical cat subtly glanced to his sister in the corner of his eye and saw her nod in understanding and encouragement. "Yeah? Well, what if I do?" he asked, not wanting to give in entirely yet. Tugger stood in mock surprise, knowing full well what the smaller male is trying to pull.

Okay, he'll play along.

"Well, what if I asked you to go on a hunt with me?" "And what if I said yes?" "Then perhaps I could ask you to go to this year's Jellicle Ball with me, too?" "And say that I do go to the ball with you?" "Then maybe I ask you for the mating dance." "But, wouldn't that make us mates?" "Only if you said yes." "But would you really want to do the Mating Dance with me, though?" Tugger stood shocked at the question. His immediate answer was yes, obviously, but this is the Mating Dance which meant commitment to a singular cat alone. Even so, his answer was still, "Yes."

It was now Mistoffelees' turn to be shocked, and for once, he didn't know what to say, so he stayed silent as the tom in front of him continued, "More than anything or anyone else in the tribe. In the world. I know I usually act all flirty and brash and indecisive. And, to be honest, I do have commitment issues (which shouldn't really come as a surprise), but I've never been more sure about anything or anyone as I am about you. I want to stay committed to you, and you make me want to stay committed, too. If you'll just give me a chance, I can show you how much I mean it and how much you mean to me."

Victoria watched the whole exchange from the side with anticipation and nervousness (and blinked back the tears in her eyes from the emotional speech). Mistoffelees stayed silent for a moment more before uttering quietly, "Alright. I'll give you a chance. Yes, I'll go on a hunt with you. Yes, I'll go to the ball with you, and yes, I'll even do the Mating Dance with you. Yes." The Rum Tum Tugger beamed ecstatically as he picked up the tuxedo tom around the waist and spun him around the area a little with a joyful laugh bubbling from them both. Once he placed down the other tom, Victoria ran over and hugged them both, a grin splitting her face in two as she was excited to see how her brother's new relationship would grow.

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

So, as you can see, Love can be friendly. Love can be a tease. But, consider the idea that Love could be a saving grace, too. That was Demeter’s story. She found herself in a dark room. Turning in circles, she frantically scanned her surroundings, noticing all the familiar aspects of the room. The place was a mess with cardboard boxes all over and covered in dust and a few covered and torn pieces of furniture here and there. The air reeked of ash and smoke. It was cold and intimidatingly uninviting. But, the icing on the cake was the spine-chilling voice that whispered behind her ear. 

“Hello, darling. So good to have you back,” the voice said menacingly. The golden queen jumped away and turned to see the Hidden Paw himself, Macavity. The ginger cat bore a sinister smirk on his face, his dark eyes flaming with lust and evil desire. Demeter cowered back, fear and anger filling her own green eyes as she spat back, “What do you want with me? Why have you brought me back?!” “I brought back what was rightfully mine,” the criminal cat  stated matter-of-factly, “You were the sheep that left the herd, and I was the shepherd that had to fetch you and bring you back.”

“I’m no sheep, and you’d never be my shepherd if I ever were one!” the nervous queen uttered coldly. Macavity clicked his tongue in scoldingly, “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Why so harsh, my stunning goddess?” he leaned close to her ear, causing her to freeze in place, “Think back to those nights. You and I both know that you actually enjoyed the nights we had such fun! Why the cold company? I know you still love me, and you still want me more than anyone.” He used the tip of his tail to guide her face to look at him. When their gazes met, all she saw was fire burning and evil intent. “You just wanted to mess with me with that terrible prank of acting like you fell for my uptight, pitiful excuse of a brother. You just wanted to make me jealous.” Still frozen in fear, Demeter found that she’d also lost her voice. She couldn’t say anything, even though none of it was true. She could barely even squeak a noise when the Napoleon of Crime leaned into her neck and whispered darkly.

“Well...it worked.”

He bit down on her neck, and she let out a scream of pain as she began scratching and clawing at different areas of his body to get him to stop. He soon released from the bite, taking pride in the mark left behind, shoved her to the floor on her back, and pinned down her arms over her head. “You’re mine,” he demanded dominantly, “You always have been, and you always will be. You’ll never escape me no matter how long or how far you run. I’ll always fetch my sheep!”

“NO!” Demeter screamed out as she sat up in her bed. “Demeter, it’s okay! It’s okay. I’m here! I’m right here. It’s okay.” The golden queen turned to her right to see her silver knight, Munkustrap pulling her to his chest. It was still the middle of the night. Her heart was pounding in her ears and her breathing was ragged and shaky as if she was crying. She WAS crying. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed into her mate’s strong chest. Munkustrap held her close, adjusting to where she could listen to his heartbeat, knowing that the steadiness and constance would calm her and provide a focus before she’d fall into a panic attack. 

The silver tom started humming a tune, allowing his baritone voice to vibrate through his chest. No true song in particular, but a tune that they both knew and shared with just each other in times where one of them was overwhelmed mentally, physically, or emotionally. Five minutes later, as he stroked the back of her head, Demeter let out one more sniffle before taking a deep breath to show she’d truly calmed down. “Are you alright, dear?” Munkustrap asked cautiously. The queen in question looked up at the tabby tom with glossed eyes, the moon shining through the window and causing them to sparkle. She looked down again before finally answering, “Yes. I’m sorry if I worried you. It was just a nightmare. You should get back to sleep. You have patrol the next morning.” “Part of my roll as Protector is to protect everyone in the tribe from any danger, and that especially includes you,” the Protector explained, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Not wanting to relive the terrible dream, all she said was, “It was about him.” Munkustrap nodded in understanding as to why she’d left it at that, but he couldn’t leave her in this state. “Just know this then, dear: The only thing that my brother is right about is that you are definitely worth fighting for. You’re not a prize. You’re not a possession. You’re not anyone’s toy that they can get rid of when they get bored. But, you ARE my pride and joy. I love you, and nothing will change that. I’ll always be there to protect you, and I’ll always find a way to save you. No matter what. Don’t forget that.” Another tear slowly dripped from her eye as Demeter nuzzled her head into Munkustrap’s neck and uttered quietly, “I love you too.”

The silver tom laid them both back down and pulled up the blanket to cover them, and the two snuggled close together purring in comfort before dozing off to sleep.

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

See, Love is a strange and quite mysterious thing. It can be tender and sweet or feisty and improbable. We can’t truly understand the full concept of Love, but if we work with proper guidance, we can find our best interpretation of Love. And, when we do find it, the amount of happiness brought with it is something quite ineffable.

[twilightofthe]

Ohhhhh Nonny do I have an IDEA for this one, thank you so much. I’m going off of your Separatists idea, thanks!

(You also sent me that second Obikin prompt which I shall also answer boy howdy!)

(OTP prompts list found here)

Obianidala 4 - Enemies to lovers AU: Which one switches sides?

In this universe, Dooku tries to catch more flies with honey than vinegar at first. When Padmé Amidala starts stirring up a fuss in the Senate about things that could interfere with Sidious’s plans, Dooku sees an opportunity arise. That formidable personality Amidala uses to command attention to her cause, something like that could be useful to him, to have on his side. His Master will certainly disagree, but Dooku knows that his Master cannot be his Master forever. At some point, Sidious will have to be dealt with; why not have the girl who took down the last Chancellor as an ally?

Count Dooku arranges a meeting with Senator Amidala. He tells her the truth about Sheev Palpatine. He shows her the datapad painstakingly compiled with over a decade of evidence of the Chancellor’s high treason. The entire sordid affair that was invasion of Naboo and Palpatine’s role in it is displayed in full. The truth is undeniable.

Padmé has never been so furious in her life. If what is in these documents is true, everything up to and including her own election as Queen, what she prided herself on for achieving through her own success and talent and by the grace of a democratic society, all of it, was his doing. He chose her. He groomed her. Eight fucking years of her life as a civil servant unknowingly dancing on his strings like a puppet, enacting his will, causing her planet and the galaxy irreparable damage. Gods, he chose her because she was weak-minded enough to hand him the Chancellorship on a silver platter.

Dooku tells her of Palpatine’s plan, of the war he’s been cultivating— too late in the proceedings now for Padmé to do anything to stop it, gods, he’s thought of everything, and his ultimate goal of complete galactic domination. He believes Dooku is his servant, on his side, but, Dooku says, he does not plan to follow him forever. He wants to take Palpatine down, and he thinks Padmé could help him.

She learned all of her political prowess from the man who betrayed her. She knows he has left nothing to chance and that there is no way civil law and political action could knock him off his throne, no matter what evidence she gathers. She doesn’t trust Dooku, thinks he’s just as bad.

But Padmé was a tool in Palpatine’s rise. Anything bad that happens because of him is now blood on her hands by proxy.

Padmé Amidala commits herself to an alliance with Count Dooku.

A slightly less detailed version of the evidence shown to Queen Jamillia is enough to commit Naboo as well.

They can’t tell Palpatine yet, don’t want to alert him to their plan, so for a year they plan in private. Dooku is certain his Master is unaware. During that year, Padmé is told of what Darth Sidious really is, how the Sith factor into everything. She really didn’t sign up for this. This is Jedi-level danger that she has no experience in handling and gods, the Jedi don’t even know about any of this, and while Sidious is awful and Padmé Will bring that bastard down, she doesn’t like or trust Dooku in the slightest. Does not want his ideas of how the galaxy should be run.

But what should she do?

The answer comes when Dooku tells her that he is being ordered by his Master to make attempts on her life due to her rabble rousing in the Senate. He won’t actually kill her, he promises, and she knows he needs her enough that she believes him.

And then the sack of utter shit kills Cordé accompanied by a completely unrepentant message to her saying that it was necessary, and Padmé despises him too and maybe that’s why she’s so eager to lightly push him into the fire when Palpatine pulls her into a meeting with the Jedi about it. Maybe the Jedi can help her, do something, maybe—

The Jedi is the same one who was sent to protect her a decade ago, the one Dooku’s mentioned by name from time to time when he’s humored her questions on the Sith and Jedi, his former grand-apprentice Padmé swears he might still be fond of.

And that apprentice’s current apprentice, and damn, Little Ani has certainly grown up...

Obi Wan is truly brilliant, Padmé didn’t appreciate that enough the first time they met. She’d appreciate it more now, if not for the light suspicion she starts picking up from him near the moment the investigation into her attackers starts. She supposes it could just be dislike of how his apprentice is blatantly, adorably enamored with her— which, doesn’t quite bother Padmé like it should, and no, she is not going down that road right now, nope —and it’s easy enough to tell Obi Wan cares very deeply for Anakin, but she suspects it’s more, that he’s caught on that there’s something she might not be telling them.

Having his intense focus on her though? Not entirely bad. His eyes staring into hers and his smooth voice as he asks her questions? Padmé can accept that. She can accept Anakin tripping over himself, being genuine and kind and so eager to help her. Even if she doesn’t want to tell herself why.

After the second assassin attempt— bugs, Dooku, really? —she can tell Obi Wan definitely knows something is up and says so to Dooku, who had promised her he’d handle it.

Her and Anakin are sent off to Naboo and she knows that bothers Obi Wan— though again, is that more his suspicions about her or his worry over Anakin —and she dearly hopes Dooku doesn’t kill him

During the time on Naboo, she learns much more about Anakin Skywalker, his humor, his brightness, his complication, his anger. He’s mad at the government too, and he feels pressure and upset at who he answers to. He’s ridiculously gone on his own Master even if he doesn’t know it, and Padmé has seen Obi Wan with her own eyes so she understands that completely. He’s beautiful and she’s unable to look away from him, especially not when he’s looking right back at her, kisses her, and no, this is a problem, a Major problem because the crux of the entire issue is that he is far, far too close to Palpatine.

Padmé has spent enough time reflecting back on just how exactly Palpatine groomed her, she recognizes it now in Anakin. He, wine flushed over dinner, tells her of the supposed prophecy he doesn’t quite believe in, how he is very powerful in the Force. She remembers all Dooku told her of the Sith, and while she’s sure he didn’t tell her close to all of it, she knows far more than enough to know that Anakin Skywalker is in grave danger

She sees even more of it when Tatooine and his mother come into play

She needs to pull away from this.

The updates Dooku’s sending on Obi Wan, how he’s being lured, her concern, no, none of this is good.

These are good men, bright men, people who just want to help, and she can’t have them around her because they’ll mess up the purpose she’s gambled her entire life for

So when Anakin gets a distress call from Obi Wan on Geonosis, Padmé grits her jaw, shoves down her feelings, and leads Anakin straight into Dooku’s trap.

The look of utter heartbreak and betrayal on his face once they arrive and are captured, when the droids let Padmé go and she walks away from him, the pain in his voice as he says her name, only her name, nothing else, it breaks her.

But this is it, Obi Wan discovered the clones and the game is put in motion, and Padmé can no longer hide in the shadows, has to sit and watch as the two Jedi are put in the arena to die, looks at Dooku who’s watching them with a troubled expression— she knows he made Obi Wan an offer and was turned down, knows he too sees something in Obi Wan like he did in her, and Padmé has an idea because she sensed a likeness in Obi Wan that resides in herself, that he wouldn’t listen to a shady figure like Dooku, but if she could make him see her view, tell him what was controlling them— controlling Anakin...

Anakin, she thinks, would come too. For his Master, if anything, but she knew they had something and if she hadn’t managed to completely kill it by betraying him.

She tells Dooku she might be able to convince the Jedi one more time to see things their way, and he narrows his eyes suspiciously but keeps the other newly-Separatist leaders from going after her when she tosses two blasters into the arena for the unarmed Jedi.

Obi Wan’s glare at her is pure acid and no, that one will not be easy, she very well might fail, and something in her both winces at the disdain but also ignites at the challenge, he is a challenge and she is good at challenges, but she catches Anakin’s eyes and sees confusion, remnants of that awful pain that makes her faint with guilt, and hope, hope in those eyes as he handles the blaster with the ease of a lightsaber— Obi Wan’s even better at it, Padmé notes with amusement, remembering him expressing distaste for them —she feels her heart jump. Maybe she hasn’t destroyed what she and Anakin had, maybe she hasn’t lost him, maybe there’s a chance to explain—

The Jedi show up and they bring the clones, and now it’s a full out battle, the other leaders are fleeing, but Padmé can’t go, not yet, though she is shameless enough to duck behind Jango Fett and let him handle things when she sees Mace Windu headed in her direction with a look like death on his face, which, fair, very fair, Padmé does kind of deserve it, she did lie to everyone

She’s trying to follow Obi Wan and Anakin, catches a swoopbike and gets a small cluster of droids to follow her when she sees them headed on carrier ships.

This time, when one ship is struck, Obi Wan and Anakin are in different transports, so it is Obi Wan who is knocked out of it and tumbles into a sand dune, and Anakin on his way to get Dooku without even noticing his Master fell.

Padmé is ready to use her droid squad to capture him again so she can explain, but now clones are headed his way too, and her droids and the clones engage in a firefight across the sands, so it is Padmé alone who goes across the sand to offer him a hand up

Her getting flipped onto her back and a lightsaber at her chest reminds her that right, he’s a bit peeved with her at the moment

Wait, she tells him, raising her hands complacently. Listen to her, she says, Anakin is in danger.

His hair is unkempt and there’s dirt on his face and his stare seems more intense than ever. His voice is icy as he replies, and who’s fault is that?

She winces. He is mad that she hurt Anakin on top of everything else, which is also fair, she’s mad at herself too. Not from her, she explains, from the Sith Lord, the one Dooku told you about, did he tell you their name?

His eyes narrow, says Dooku said the Sith controls the Senate

Padmé tells him she’s met the Sith, Dooku is right, and that the Sith not only controls the Senate, they control Anakin, have had their eye on him for a very long time

And there’s that flash of protective fire in his eyes, she has his attention, though he’s trying to act like she doesn’t. She likes his attention, is glad he cares for Anakin as much as she does. He asks her, tone dangerous, what the hell she’s talking about.

Padmé takes a breath. You’re in danger of losing him to the Dark Side.

He reels back ever so slightly, snarls, you don’t know what you’re talking about.

Ask him what we did on Tatooine, she counters, watches as he takes that entirely the wrong way, the flush of cheeks, the second once-over of her, and she can’t help but be amused.

No, she stresses though, because they don’t have the time, not like that. Ask him what he did. He did something awful and if you don’t help him with that, it will get worse and he will deliver himself right into the Sith’s hands

She can see him paling. He knows she’s not lying. What did he do? Who is this Sith?

She shakes her head, tells him that he will not believe her, and that Anakin must tell him himself, and he must still be there for him. You are what’s keeping him where he is. Don’t drive him away. You can’t lose him.

His eyes narrow, he wants to argue with her and the lightsaber is still at her chest and he’s staring at her just as intensely and her heart is tight, but he’s getting a report on his commlink, and she hears something about Anakin about to engage Dooku, and he swears sharply and is pulling out the blaster she gave him and she doesn’t have time to move before he shoots her with it—

And he stunned her, thank the gods, she wakes up handcuffed in a transport ship with a few clones still milling around, she sees the entrance to the cave system Dooku was using off at a distance, she knows exactly where he would be and knows in her heart that Obi Wan and Anakin are fighting him.

The clones, bless them, are still a little new, and her cuffs are in the front and aren’t exactly chained to anything, and she’s in white just like them so it doesn’t take much to pull her wrap cowl up over her head, wait until one isn’t looking, and take off out of the ship at a run, somehow avoiding getting shot until she’s deep in the cave and has time to pull a pick out of her boot and undo the cuffs with her mouth. She can hear fighting in the distance and she may be unarmed, but she feels she was finally breaking through to Obi Wan and she needs something she can control, not Dooku, not Sidious, her, and she bursts out—

And there’s Dooku, fighting what looks like Master Yoda, and there are both of her men, collapsed on the floor, and obviously there is history between Dooku and his old master so neither of them even pay her any mind as she darts across the ground to where Obi Wan is laying slightly over Anakin— who, gods, is missing an entire arm, Dooku you bastard —and is surprisingly, still awake.

She meets Anakin’s bleary, pain-filled eyes, runs a hand soothingly over his forehead and croons softly at him, melts at how quickly he leans in to her touch despite what she’s done, what side she’s on. It’s okay, shhh, it’s okay, rest.

Did you mean it? he asks her, and her heart shatters. Any of it, did you mean-?

I didn’t want to lie, she tells him, completely honest. You weren’t part of the plan, you never were, hurting you wasn’t—

He makes a confused, sad little noise as she leans closer and oh, she can’t help it, she leans down and she kisses him and he presses into it eagerly, she can taste blood in his mouth, before slumping back to the floor, asleep.

What are you doing? She turns to see Obi Wan struggling to wake, glare back on his face, and oh, these two need to have a serious conversation, but that’s not the now. She wipes Anakin’s blood off her lip.

She tells him she is gaining an ally, and when he flares up, adds that she does truly care for him, and wants him safe, and the only way she can do that is if she takes out the Sith who is after him

Why side with Dooku then, Obi Wan challenges, and she smiles, tells him that Dooku too is a threat, and in this position she can try to bring down the both of them—

With help, she emphasizes. I don’t know the Force, there are things they don’t tell me and I am far from strong enough. If you were to help me...

Obi Wan snaps that he is loyal to the Republic, and Padmé counters, is he to Anakin? Padmé catches the break in his façade for but a second as he glances at his broken apprentice still curled up beside him, and she knows she isn’t wrong.

She dares to reach out, brush a loose strand of shiny auburn hair out of his face while he’s incapacitated, tells him, she is willing to help them. They should consider helping her. He stays still while she brushes his hair, watching her hand. Maybe she hasn’t misjudged him either.

Obi Wan is once more cut off by louder noises and the sound of clones approaching, and Padmé sees Dooku getting ready to flee, so she pats both men on the head once more, tells Obi Wan, commands him, keep him safe. We will meet again.

And she’s off, dodging Yoda who’s running back for the Jedi, catching a swoopbike of her own and tearing off after Dooku to escape the planet.

Naboo has a declaration of secession to make, and a war is starting, and for the first time, Padmé feels like she has options.

[you-did-well-moon]

Seventeen reaction to S/O learning how to play the harp and Guzheng/Zither

Type: Pure fluff uwu

im sorryyy i accidentally deleted the ask so ima have to type it out

@that-lost-carat-unicorn asked Hii :3 How are you?? Is it okay if I make a request for Seventeen where they S/O is learning how to play harp and Guzheng/Zither???

A/N: After 6 months its here. I know it really did take a long time and im very sorry about that. It wasn’t until recently I got time to actually write it. Anyways, the only time I won't accept requests is if it says so in my bio!! This was actually a pretty cool request for me since I got to discover, see, and hear two new very interesting and beautiful instruments. please don't be afraid to talk to me or to request!!~Moon

S.Coups

The leader had managed to escape and get a ride to your company building. He hadn’t seen you in a long time due to your most recent world tour. He made sure his face was covered as he got out of the vehicle thanking the driver. He went to your group’s practice room only to search all the member’s faces and not find you. One of the girls saw his confused and worried face through the mirror as she smiled turning around. He was informed that you were down the hall practicing for a special performance you were asked to give at MAMA this year.

Curiosity tugged him down the hall to the practice room you were currently in only to grow when he heard different music than what he was used to hearing. He could tell it was an instrument, and he cautiously opened the door peaking his head in. He saw you sitting in a chair with the harp in front of you, and an older woman placing your hands on certain parts of the instrument. You looked up at the mirror spotting him. Smiling you excused yourself standing up and walking towards him. 

Sungcheol reached his hand out and as you took it he bought you into his embrace. When he grabbed your hand, he felt a weird sensation. Bringing your hand closer to his face he saw calluses and marks lining your finger tips. “Do they hurt?” he asked. You shook your head saying it only stung for a bit. Kissing your fingertips he told you to be careful. He opted to sit down to the side  and watch as your hands grew sure in their movements. He had a proud smile on his face, and he basked in the moment. His girl was talented, and no one could deny that. 

Jeonghan

Surprisingly, Jeonghan had gotten home ready to fall asleep with you in his arms after so long. Only to open the door, and not find you at your usual spot on the coach reading a book or cuddling with your cat, Han. He figured you were probably in another part of the house. He looked in the kitchen, the bedroom, and the restroom not finding you anywhere. Quickly getting tired of the where’s Waldo game, he picked up his phone calling your number. The phone rang, and you didn’t pick up. He felt an inkling of worry prick at his chest, but he chose to wait a bit getting into the shower in the meantime. 

As he was drying his hair, he heard the front door open and close. Opening the door he left the towel in the bathroom, and he walked into the living room space. There you were hair out of place, the tip of your nose pink from the wind.  A bright smile on your face as you placed a big case on the floor and your coat along with your scarf on the coat hanger near the door. As you saw Jeonghan your eyes seemed to light up, and you scurried up to him grabbing a hold of his hands and jumping in excitement.

"Hannie, you won't believe it but I'm learning how to play this really cool instrument called a Guzheng and-" Jeonghan instead bought his hand to the back of your head bringing your face into his neck. At that moment he really didn't care about anything but the fact that you were safe. "Let's go to bed" he said leading you into the bedroom. Your disappointment was clear on your face, but Jeonghan wasn't looking at you. You thought he'd be more exited. You pouted the whole time as you got ready for bed. By the time you got into the warm covers Jeonghan was on his side falling asleep. He seemed to feel you seeing as he turned around throwing an arm across your tummy. He called your name, and you hummed in reply. His hand reached for yours holding them in a loose grasp. "I don't care what you do as long as you're happy. As long as you smile at the end of the day you can do anything." You fell asleep with a content smile on your face.

Joshua

Everyone said it was better to learn how to play an instrument at an early age, but your parents never really thought to put you in any kind of lessons, and you were too busy being care free to really put any thought into things like that. Now that you were older, you regretted it. Being young, living alone, and a aspiring author didn’t really take much out of your schedule. In fact, your schedule had been empty for days except for writing and the occasional going out to the market or for a walk. In the end, you had seen an add for harp lessons and now having both the money and the will for it, you decided to go and check it out.

The classes were given inside a prestigious school for the creative arts, so there were also people who had played the harp their whole lives. At first, everyone was welcoming and kind. Until Jian and her two friends arrived with their instruments in studded cases and backpacks decorated with medals and badges they had won from various contests. They had begun to berate and make fun of the beginners (including you), and since the others didn’t seem too keen on standing up for them, it left you to put your foot down and take the worse of the cruel words. It was worth it when your peers came to thank you after class.

No one had ever stood up to Jian, until him. He had come one day to class meeting up with his friend, one of the best harp players in the school. You hadn’t noticed him because you had been talking back to Jian after she had told the class we couldn’t play the instruments to save our lives. “Jian, how many times have I told you that if you were a better person I would actually consider even befriending you.” Both you and Jian had looked at the person with shocked faces. After sputtering out a thank you, you would come to learn his name was Hong Jisoo, and you would continue to build on your relationship. He was a man with a kind personality and a soft heart. You had been walking around a park cheeks flushed from the cold when a hand first brushed against yours only to eventually encase yours. Your head snapped in his direction not being able to find his eyes since his head was bent towards the ground. “You know, I think it’s really brave of you to try something new. Braver than I could ever be. I think, give it a few more days, and you’ll be better than half those students in the school.” You had laughed throwing your head back hooking your arm through his, and putting your head on his shoulder. “You’re too much sometimes Joshua Hong.”

Jun

At a young age you had loved playing the Zither ravishing in the way it’s sound rang around the room at the pluck of the strings. The beautiful instrument began to collect dust as your life went on, and your life got busy with school. You soon forgot the feeling of the strings against your fingers, and by college any memory of the instrument was pushed away by the heavy notion of the real world and it’s struggles. 

Jun was helping you pack, you getting ready to move out of your childhood home and into your new apartment. This was a big milestone for you, and you and Jun spent the day laughing and joking around. Although jokingly told not to touch anything, he couldn’t stop himself from opening the photo album of you as a todler. As he looked at the pictures he saved certain ones getting ready to tease you for them only to stop when he came across a picture of you holding a familar instrument. He heard a a sigh behind him turning around to find you with a longing look on your face. You shook your head pulling him up so he could help you pack up the last of your belongings.

No matter what he did, the picture and the big smile on your chubby cheeks woudn’t leave Jun’s head. He felt the oppurtunity of something more when he thought about the lovely instrument, besides, your birthday was coming up. When he gave you the present, and you instantly recognized the shape of the box he couldn’t stop the skip of his heart and his sheepish smile as you glanced at him with a fondness shimmering in your eyes. As you tested the strings and the familar sound echoed in your ears he placed his hand on your knee lovingly saying what he thought was right at the moment,“I fully believe you can do amazing things with this, and I won’t stop supporting you.”

Hoshi

You were a single independent woman. With a job as a journalist speaking out against the injustices of humanity. A independent woman who currently had to take care of her sister because her parents had conveniently chosen to go on a cruise, and dumped their youngest on the unsuspecting oldest. You were a women who had bills that weren’t going to pay for themselves, but those could wait. You had a sister to spend some quality time with. Your schedule was more packed than it ever had been, but you couldn’t really say you hated it. It made the days go by faster and tired you out easily. Plus, you felt like you hadn’t seen your sister smile so brightly in so long. 

Now you even had a little hobby to show off when people asked you questions about yourself. After a few classes you came to realize that you were the only relatively young person in the class. Great. It wasn't until one day when the class was interrupted by a short guy who you hadn’t seen before come in with Gayu (a boy who came regularly with his father) close behind him. Because of his loud conversation with the class instructor you found out he was simply bringing Gayu to class in place of his uncle. Gayu and your little sister, Lyn had gotten quite close, so the younger boy had come to sit in the seat to your right next to Lyn. That left the only open seat to your left. You silently cursed not planning on meeting anyone, especially this cute, today.

He turned around eyes searching for Gayu only to find him sitting next to a pretty girl, hands tracing her instrument in wonder and curiosity. You saw the boy come in your direction a flustered smile adorning his lips. While at first, he was a bit shy he quickly got more comfortable as the class passed revealing his loud endearing self. You couldn’t say you weren't falling for him, but then the next class came and Gayu’s father came. No sign of the handsome young man was seen. It was like he never existed. It wasn't until the end of the class that Gayu’s father confronted you asking for your number. You were shocked. He had a wife. Seeing your wide eyes the male quickly back tracked telling you it was for Soonyoung. You agreed and it didn’t take much for you two to get close. The time went by fast, and your parents came back. Not having Lyn meant you didn’t have to go to the classes anymore, but you really liked playing the Zither. When you told Soonyoung this he responded with, “ The instrument has become a part of you holding a special place in your heart. At the end of the day if it puts that lovely smile of yours on your face, I would say it’s worth it”

Wonwoo

You were a child raised in a home of warmth and kindness. Your parents were both musicians playing the harp for events and a famous orchestra. You had your differences, but in the end they were your parents, and you adored them. You were wrecked when they were killed in a car accident when coming from a show. You didn't eat much or sleep because of the constant nightmares. Soon you would avoid anything that reminded you of them including their beloved instrument. You didn’t listen to music much always avoiding it. The only time you allowed yourself to go on memory lane was when you would visit the book store they had always bought you to as a kid. You could say you were surprised when you fell in love with a musician you had met there. 

Of course you had tried to avoid any romantic feelings,  but Wonwoo was persistent and eventually won over your heart. Although he always wondered why you refused him so harshly, he didn’t press. Spending time with Wonwoo and being his partner exposed you more to music than in the last few years of your life, and in a weird way it allowed you to heal. As the anniversary of your parent’s death rolled up you took a leap, and you decided you were ready to let go of all the pain you had kept after your parents departure. 

Feeling the harp’s strings against the pads of your fingers bought a sense of comfort, and every time the harp’s gentle sound rang around the room you could hear your parent’s voices telling you everything was going to be okay. When Wonwoo questioned you, you simply told him you had grown a bit bored and needed something to spice things up. It wasn’t until one day you told him to get in the car, and you drove to the cemetery. Walking up the hill you stared at the gravestones introducing Wonwoo to your parents. As you told him everything Womwoo smiled at you eyes shimmering with what you could only describe as pure adoration. Bringing your joined hands into his coat pocket he said “It may sound cheesy, but you continue to amaze me every day, and I fall more in love as well. What ever you do, I will always be by your side.”

Woozi

Being a main producer of the group Woozi was a but busier than the other members. That also meant that he wasn’t able to spend much time with you, but you were fine with it knowing it’s what he truly loved. Of course, you guys texted but even that was limited. You guys hadn’t had a chance to really talk in such a long time, so Jihyoon had no idea you had picked up on playing the Zither, a musical instrument of Chinese origin. 

He didn’t find out until one day when he came back to the apartment and tripped over the instrument’s case which you had left near the door in your haste to dive into the covers of your comfy bed. He was confused at first not knowing what it was until he opened the case seeing the instrument. He felt guilt wrap around his heart, but he gently closed the case making his way into the room to get ready for bed. Even when you guys did manage to meet up for dinner you didn’t tell him seeing his tired eyes. You were blissfully ignorant to the fact he indeed did know about your newfound passion.

You didn’t find out until the day you were on your way to the Pledis building ready to pick Jihyoon up for a day spent together since he had a free day. The radio host came on in a fake exited voice announcing Seventeen’s new song. You felt a light smile tug at your lips as you listened to the song, but you heard a familar sound in the instrumental of the song. Having spent so much time being the one behind the strings, you could recognize the Zither’s unique sound anywhere. When you questioned him about it he just shook his head fondly saying “Anything that makes you happy makes me happy. You should have let me know sooner.”

Dk

Seokmin made it a point to give you at least two phone calls everyday. One in the mornings, and one at night. You had just finished college deciding to take a brake until you submitted all the resumes you had prepared for life after college. Having nothing to do and always wanting to play a instrument you signed up for classes forgetting to tell your dear boyfriend in the midst of all the chaos. Coming to classes you expected an old man with a grumpy attitude. You didn’t at all expect a young man around your age with a bright smile on his face. His name was Zuhi, and you quickly became almost like siblings.

Seventeen had just finished promotions for their newest comeback, so Seokmin had some free time. He drove to your apartment ready to suprise you, and take you on a date only to find you gone. He called your phone only for his heart to launch into his throat the moment he heard a unknown man’s voice. You had been struggling with a particular chord all week, and being so close you told Zuhi to anwer your phone when it rang not thinking it would be your boyfreind on the other side. Seokmin asked the man if you were there and where you were with Zuhi responding that yes, you were in fact there on the verge of breaking his prized instrument, and the adress of the practice lessons.

Seokmin’s head was clustered with voices of insecurity circling all the way to the building. Seokmin knew you loved him, but that didn’tt stop the doubt inching it’s way into his heart. He had been texted the floor and room number, so he made his way anxiously tapping his foot as he waited in the elevator. He didn’t know what to expect when he opened the door but it was certainly not you grumbling to yourself as you closed a case and an unknown man snickering on the other side of the room as he sweeped the floor. As soon as you saw him your face was overtaken by a huge smile as you ran into his arms. He also couldn’t stop the beam stretching onto his face, any doubt dissapearing. He waited for you to pack up giving the man a nod as you walked out hand in hand. You exitedly told him everything about the lessons, and he listened with tentitive ears only replying with things like “Keep going to the lessons. Find something that makes you happy. Don’t worry babe you’ll get it in no time.” 

Mingyu

You were a university student being a vital part of the orchestra group there since you were one of the best violin musicians there. You loved your instrument and had actually never grown curious about the other instruments. You didn’t really care for them, and learning how to play them seemed like too much of a hassle. You already had something you were good at, so why stray away from it. Maybe the harp had caught your eye a few times, but Dani was the leading musician for that, and she was very good at it. She had given you a few lessons, but you always went back to your beloved violin.

Then, Dani being as clumsy as she was, had to trip when going down the stairs of the orchestra hall effectively spraining her wrist and rendering it useless. Dani had been the only harp player in the orchestra, and with an important event coming up and you being the only one with even a little experience, the orchestra instructor had no choice but to make you learn how to play the harp. You knew it wasn’t anybody's fault, but you couldn’t help and get cranky and snappy with the added stress of college life. Luckily, you had your boy friend to help you through it. Coming home to warm dinner and a clean house definitely calmed your sour mood.

You couldn't say you hated the harp. In fact, you quite liked the way it's strings felt against your fingers, but the timing could have been better. One day when Mingyu had called you, and your voice seemed off he decided to pay a visit. Getting there he couldn't help but shake his head fondly at you. The corners of your mouth were turned down, but there was a softness in your eyes that increased when ever the harp seemed to create the sound you wanted it to. Leaving the bag of take out on the desk near the door he grabbed a stool placing it next to yours. His thigh touched yours and as you finished he reached out tilting your head laying it on his shoulder. “I’m proud of you for coming this far. It will all pay off in the end, I promise. Whatever instrument your hands choose to play just know you will always have this hand to hold.”

The8

You didn't know what to do. Being a trainee at pledis seemed easy, and you were never one to get distracted from your ultimate goal of debuting. But Minghao came with his rare smile and passionate eyes making your heart skip a beat whenever you saw him. You had been friends for a long time, and you figured you’d rather take rejection than spend your whole life hoping for something that would never happen if you didn’t grow a pair. You really liked Minghao, so go big or go home right? Yeah you were trying to learn how to play an instrument from his home country.

MInghao was confused. His best friend who usually had some spare time, now had a packed schedule. He was not talking about Jun. He was talking about you. His dearest friend with shimmering eyes and a smile that made his heart do weird things. His best friend. Anytime he tried asking you about what was keeping you so busy, you always came up with the weirdest excuses. Something about helping your grandmother or feeding your dog. Your grandmother lived on the opposite side of the country, and the only pet you had was a hamster. It wasn't until you forgot your phone on the rare occasion you did find time for him, that he got to see how you were really spending your time.

He could hear the unique sound of the familiar instrument before even opening the door to the practice room a staff member had informed him he would find you in. He was impressed when he saw it was you behind the calming sound, but was much more focused on the red hue creeping into your cheeks when your eyes landed on him. As you explained to him why were you learning how to play the delicate instrument, he couldn't help but to duck his head to hide his own reddening cheeks shaking his head as he reached out for your hand smiling brightly. “I would have liked you no matter what you did. As long as you like it, you should really think about continuing it. I’ll support you no matter what.”

Seungkwan

You and Seungkwan didn’t really have a problem with your relationship going public, and if you got any hate it would probably disperse as time went on. Carats were a loving and kind fandom, so Seungkwan trusted they would accept you when the time came to let them know. For now, your relationship would only be known by close friends and management. You were a student for a small creative arts college, and you were currently learning how to play a unique instrument called the Guzheng. Seungkwan always made you play for him, even when you were barely starting. At the end he would always praise you teasingly squishing your cheeks and cooing at you about how much of a fast learner you were.

Sometimes he would even sing a song that went along with what you were playing (usually a ballad). He was the voice, and you were the instrument. That being said, he was not the instrument. Can you imagine his surprise when they were presented with his girlfriend’s instrument on a variety show, and whichever team got the Guzheng to sound closest to the song would get food. As they went on to their 7th try with no one even coming close, Seungkwan found himself wishing you were with him. He wanted to make a joke about the irony of the situation, but he couldn’t because your relationship wasn’t public yet.

Everyone was getting frustrated, and although Seungkwan was used to his member’s teasing, combined with the frustration of not being able to play your instrument and missing you, he snapped. Right after Hoshi threw a light hearted jab at him, Seungkwan started yelling about how if you were here they would have already lost a long time ago, and he at least had a girlfriend that he could go home to. Everyone was shocked at the sudden reveal of his relationship, and news about it spread fast. You weren't upset instead just cooing at your boyfriend about how cute he was when he was angry. He only replied with “It’s not my fault I have such an amazing and talented girlfriend.”

Vernon

You were a person of the creative arts, just not the musical arts. You liked drawing and painting more, but your parents wanted you to be like your sister, so they enrolled you in classes for harp. From the start, you felt a lot of bitterness towards your parents making you hate the harp and anything to do with it. You were stubborn, and although you complied with the classes, you always had a frown tugging at your lips. Even after seeing you upset your parents forced you to take the classes. You surprisingly continued playing the harp all the way up to college while secretly taking art classes on the side. You actually also played at a little café a few blocks from your university.

That café is where you met Hansol, your present boyfriend, who you told about your situation right off the bat. He always suggested just telling your parents you weren't interested in the instrument, but you always rejected the idea. To be honest, you had grown quite fond of the harp over the years. Even if forced to lean it’s various strings and sounds, it had grown on you. You were at a crossroads, not wanting to pick between the harp and the brush, and you didn’t have to worry about the choice for a long time.

You didn’t have to worry about the choice until a friend of your sister’s who attended your college and had an art class with you told your sister who in turn told your parents. Your parents then called you demanding for you to choose one then angrily hanging up. You went to Hansol in tears in a panic over not knowing what to do. He simply wrapped his arms around you rocking you from side to side before leaning back and wiping away your tears with the pads of his thumbs. He smiled at you and said “Why don’t you just choose both? I know you y/n, and I know you can easily take both because of how deep your love for both runs.”

Dino

Throughout Chan’s life, he had many crushes, but he was sure they had never been as strong as the one he had on you. Your father was one of the managers, and you often came to visit him since you hadn't seen your dad in a long time because of your stay in America. Visiting your dad meant you also often spent time with the group, and it didn’t really take much for Chan to fall for you. He found you interesting, and you had a personality that always attracted him. You were also one of the only ones who treated him as an adult instead of the innocent maknae who used to have duck hair.

He was especially fascinated when he found out you were learning how to play a Chinese instrument called the Zither. Since your father wanted you close, you could often be found practicing with your instrument in one of the Pledis practice rooms. Coincidentally the room you used was close to the room Seventeen used. This allowed Chan to always peak when he was passing by. He always thought you looked beautiful when you played the instrument. Well, Chan always thought you were beautiful, but that’s not the point.

What he didn’t know, was that you knew he would peak when ever you were practicing thanks to the mirror opposite the room’s door. You also knew about his crush on you, and you returned his feelings. It wasn’t until one day when he was watching you play with heart eyes that you turned around towards the door and told him to come in. Chan was shocked when you “caught” him, and he continued to be shocked when you said you knew about his crush and he should hurry up and confess. He managed to come out of his surprised state when he sputtered out a “I like you”. He continued after that with “You’re just amazing and interesting, and- even though I'm not your boy friend I'm really proud of how far you’ve come. You never gave up..” The both of you stayed in the room talking, and you came out hands joined with bright smiles on your faces.

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Reliving An Old Nightmare - Chapter 24

<= Chapter 23

Summary : Things don't go as planned. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337299/chapters/59020252

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New chapter, yay ! [WARNING: the third and last drawing is gory]

THIS CHAPTER HAS AN AUDIO FILE ! I commissioned Puyo-Proto again, and he did an AMAZING JOB ! Please check his Twitter, he's so talented !! (Here : https://twitter.com/Puyo_Proto) Thank you so much for voicing a part of this dialogue !

YOU CAN LISTEN TO IT HERE !

I hope you'll like this chapter :) Happy reading !

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Chapter 24

-“Oh, it’s so good to be back!” The voice coming from their enemy brought back Snatcher to reality: this was it. The moment he had been waiting for so long. The evil spirit was almost out of the breach as Vanessa launched another one of her ice attacks in his direction. The stranger avoided it by very little and managed to enter the rift, cackling threateningly as he did so.

Something felt very wrong about the way this guy laughed, thought Snatcher couldn’t put his finger on it. And it certainly wasn’t the time for this kind of thoughts.

Vanessa didn’t wait long to throw another attack, defiantly adopting an aggressive attitude against their common enemy, who kept dodging all of her attempts at hurting him. The stranger floated around, avoiding each ice pillar coming out of the floor with grace, all while laughing maniacally at the trio.

This Moonjumper guy was mocking them and certainly didn’t see them as a serious threat to his existence. Normally, this would enrage the shade more than enough, but in this particular scenario… This was extremely dangerous, because it meant their opponent was much more powerful than them. Plus, the latter had a Time Piece in his possession, which would definitely play a part in their fight.

What would happen if this guy used it to his advantage? The kid probably knew the answer, but the time wasn’t appropriate for questions. Now was the time to fight.

The other snickered, while Vanessa’s frustration intensified. She always missed her attacks and the ghost could see her powers corrupting her body more and more. Her attacks were becoming messier, meddled and less coordinated. If she continued like that, not only was she going to get consumed again by her powers, but she would most likely wear herself out. Considering the fact that she was the only one able to pit herself against this Moonjumper, this was not a good thing. The Queen needed to snap out of it and to stop letting herself be taunted by this guy. This was exactly what this spirit was trying to do!

Apparently, the kid on his side came to the same conclusion as him, though she reacted in a completely different way than Snatcher would. Without his powers, the ghost felt useless and quite literally harmless against an enemy able to resist Vanessa’s attacks. Trying to hurt this monster would likely result in him being thrown away or, in the worst-case scenario, getting killed. Thus, charging this opponent in that meat sack of a body was not something strategic, at least not if he wanted to attack the other physically. He didn’t even have a weapon!

But, of course, the hatted brat didn’t think. No, she just rushed into things without thinking about all the possible outcomes!

The little girl exchanged her dweller mask for her alchemist hat and then started to run to the crate she had broken earlier, grabbing one of the damaged planks on the ground. She took a good hold of it as she charged this Moonjumper while the latter was still busy dealing with Vanessa.

Fuelled by a feeling of panic, the ghost extended his hand towards the child, letting a “no!” out of his lips. But the moment his voice came out of his mouth, he deeply regretted it: their enemy hadn’t actually seen the kid approaching him but, now that Snatcher had voiced his worry aloud, the other spirit looked in the child’s direction and spotted her attempts at hurting him.

The shade wished he could have kept his mouth shut. Vanessa abruptly realizing how close the kid was to their enemy and was stopped in her tracks, as she was about to throw another attack. She had already risked hurting the hatted child before and surely didn’t want to do it again, but this had been a mistake too.

It simply gave the other a chance to attack as well.

A sickening smile appeared on their opponent’s strange face, as his crazed stare was fixed on the little girl, who had lifted her weapon above her head to hit him. Red strings suddenly appeared from the tips of the other spirit’s fingers and launched themselves in the kid’s direction. They moved in the air quickly, almost too quickly for Snatcher’s stare to follow them. However, before the child was able to dodge or defend herself, the red strings tied themselves around her small body, immediately immobilizing her and bringing her attack to an abrupt stop. The plank she was holding fell back on the ground.

-“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” cooed the evil spirit with a dark smile.

Vanessa frowned at his tone and tried to attack him once again before stopping herself almost instantly when this Moonjumper pulled the child just in front of him, where the spikes would have hurt him if the Queen hadn’t hold herself back. The child let out a shriek and closed her eyes as the ice pillars almost hit her. She was unable to do anything else, much too tied up to move. Fear had suddenly replaced her determination as she was now completely harmless and powerless.

This guy was using the brat as a hostage. The thought made the shade absolutely livid. No one could dare to hurt that hatted brat, he was the only one. The ghost felt heat radiating from his body as he gave the other spirit a death glare.

-“You let go of her right now,” he started with a dark and threatening tone, “and maybe I’ll consider giving you a merciful death.”

The threat only made the other giggle cruelly. He pulled on the red strings with one hand, making them squeeze the brat tighter, as if he was taunting him. His victim winced from the sudden pain, not without struggling. But no matter how hard she was trying to get free, the strings only seemed to squeeze her more.

-“Is that so?” bragged Moonjumper: “And how are you going to attack me? You may look like your old form, though you are just as harmless to me than a regular and common human.”

He used his free hand to tie more strings around the hatted brat, this time around her neck. Terror appeared on the kid’s face as breathing was getting difficult for her.

Apart from Vanessa, the shade had never wanted to kill someone so badly. However, seeing how much in danger the kid was, he remained motionless and silent as their opponent started talking again, turning towards Vanessa:

-“As for you… I would not try to do anything if I were in your shoes,” he paused and continued, much more serious: “Unless you want another child to die because of you.”

The remark made the woman grow pale instantly and she lowered her black hands back to her hips, unable to do anything else. The ghost saw her glancing in his direction, probably wondering if she should try to attack the other and ignore the latter’s threat, but Snatcher glared at her in response. They would not take a risk like this one. Hurting the kid was not part of his plan of the day.

-“Good, good,” cooed this Moonjumper, sarcastically, sending more red strings in Vanessa’s direction. The strings tied her up before she was able to dodge them, keeping her in place: “Now, kneel,” ordered the evil spirit.

The woman hesitated, glaring at him fiercely. However, when the latter started to pull on the red strings on the little girl’s neck, Snatcher’s voice echoed in the room:

-“Do as he says!”

There was too much despair in his intonation for his taste but he couldn’t care less at the moment. The kid’s life was in danger and if Vanessa had to kneel to save her, then he would scream at her to do so. The Queen glanced at him and eventually complied, while the shade let out a sigh of relief when their enemy gave the child more slack.

Why would anyone want to murder them anyway? This made no sense! They didn’t know that guy!

-“Why are you doing this?” interrogated Snatcher, trying his best to sound calm, even if he definitely wasn’t.

The question seemed to take the other spirit aback as he simply stared at Snatcher in bewilderment for a few seconds. Why? This was a perfectly legitimate question! Who in their right mind would not ask that if they were in this particular situation?

Their enemy tilted his head in pure confusion and then a smile appeared on his lips. Slowly, his expression started to change, going from surprise to hilarity, and he then started to laugh. If his hands weren’t busy to keep the child in place, the other would have certainly clenched his sides from how much he was laughing.

This laugh, why did this laugh bother Snatcher so much?

It was now his turn to be confused and the trio couldn’t help but watch the scene before them, completely powerless. The child was glancing between the monster holding her as a hostage and her two adult companions, not knowing what to do or what to think at all.

The other spirit’s laugh ended darkly as he stared back at Snatcher, eyes full of hatred:

-“Oh, of course, you wouldn’t recognize me, how silly of me,” he growled as he squeezed the strings around the child even more, making her whine and close her eyes from the pain. The ghost was so going to murder this guy, slowly, making him suffer as long as possible.

However, the words took Snatcher aback: what did the other mean? Snatcher had never met another spirit like this so-called Moonjumper before! His frustration intensified, though he managed to keep his mouth shut, not forgetting that his interlocutor could very well snap the child’s neck if he wanted to.

-“Well, it is not really surprising, I suppose,” continued the monster, his cruel smile widening: “Using the Time Piece had some…Special effects on my vessel. It seems now that I am both dead and alive at the same time,” he explained, in the same tone someone would use to talk about the weather: “My appearance is quite different now because of that. A shame, truly.”

-“Listen,” protested the shade, careful not to sound too aggressive and kept going: “I have no idea who you are.” It certainly couldn’t be someone who died after one of his contracts, since he always ate their soul afterwards. Maybe an acquaintance of one of his victims? Yet, it didn’t make much sense as his interlocutor seemed to know him personally.

The ghost was not lying when he said he didn’t know this guy.

-“Oh, I know you don’t,” replied the latter cynically: “You never even knew I existed in the first place.”

-“So who are you?!” snapped the shade, unable to stay quiet anymore. He just wanted answers! He glared at his opponent as he kept talking, still watching the child carefully, hoping nothing would happen to her because of his attitude: “Why would you go through the trouble of recreating a whole version of our past just to kill us in the end? We don’t even know you!”

The evil spirit glared back at him but didn’t hurt the brat again, thankfully. Instead, he just smiled wickedly and tilted his head as he finally gave an answer to the question the trio waited for:

-“I am you.”

This was definitely not the answer Snatcher was expecting. From the look on his companions’ face, they didn’t expect that kind of answer either. Apparently, their reaction must have been pretty visible because this Moonjumper giggled and corrected himself:

-“Or, well, I used to,” he explained, then continued with a darker intonation: “Fortunately, I have nothing to do with you anymore.”

And when he said those last words, the stranger showed his left hand, as if to prove a point. For a few seconds, Snatcher didn’t know what to look at exactly, until he spotted something very special: a ring on his ring finger, a golden jewel on which could be seen a damaged ruby. Immediately, Snatcher’s heart sunk in his chest: he knew that ring. Even from afar, the shade could recognize what this ring was.

This was his old engagement ring. The one he used to have when he was alive. The one he had when he woke up in that forest. The same one he died with, so many years ago.

The shade’s eyes widened as everything started to make sense: the clothes this “Moonjumper” was wearing, his claims, the way he laughed, his corpse-looking like appearance, this ring… But this couldn’t be! Snatcher was here! And this guy was over there! If they were the same person, how could they be at two different places at the same time?

There had to be an explanation for all of this, and what this spirit had told him certainly wasn’t it.

The others must have perceived his scepticism because his smile widened as he spoke again:

-“You don’t believe me, do you? That is fine. I did not expect you to. It does not matter anymore,” he said, darkly: “Nothing matters anymore, because you are all going to die,” then, patting the little girl’s head in a very disturbingly slow manner, he added: “Well, not you, little one. I used to want you dead as well, but I changed my mind. This does not concern you in any way, after all. Furthermore…”

The evil spirit gave Vanessa a death glare as he continued :

-“If I did kill an innocent child, I wouldn’t be any better than you,” his smile returned as he turned back to the trembling victim in his hold: “Besides, if I do come back to the Horizon after this, I will have someone to keep me company!”

He chuckled at the sight of the brat’s confused and afraid expression. In the meantime, Snatcher’s anger and frustration kept growing. He didn’t understand a single word this guy was saying! The Horizon? What was that? What was he even talking about?

-“You’re crazy,” mumbled the shade, astonished. He couldn’t believe what was happening: this was the only explanation! There was no way this monster was right, it was simply and physically impossible!

The word caught the other’s attention, though in a very bad way. He frowned and threw a glance full of hatred at Snatcher:

-“Me, ‘crazy’?” he repeated, in a voice that was much too calm to be normal. The shade should have kept his mouth shut. His interlocutor kept going: “You know, this is quite ironic. You are the one who caused me so much trouble, who abandoned me… And I am the ‘crazy’ one?”

-“I have no idea what you are talking about,” insisted Snatcher, putting an emphasis on each syllable as he answered. But the other was not having it:

-“You left me in there to rot, literally! You left me, your other half, to be stuck in a hellish dimension for hundreds of years!” yelled their opponent, absolutely livid: “I spent all this time, alone, having to watch you, of all people, being this pathetic while I couldn’t even leave this place!”

Snatcher’s eyes widened as he was listening to the other, astounded. “Other half”? “To rot”? This guy couldn’t mean…

The latter guessed his thoughts and finished them for him:

-“I am the part you left behind, that night,” he explained with a low voice: “You are the coward part of us that fled because you were just too afraid to face her!” he accused, pointing at Vanessa as he kept going: “And you abandoned me in there, with her! You left me in this pathetic body while you buried your head in the sand, not even considering the possibility I existed!”

He laughed bitterly, tilting his head on his side:

-“You know, I have thought a lot about why I was stuck in this place, the Horizon as I like to call it now. And I think I know. I can’t believe it took me so long to understand why!”

He squinted, looking daggers at Snatcher:

-“I am incomplete. That’s why I can’t dwell in the mortal plane like a dweller or go to Heaven if it even exists! You are the reason I got stuck in this dimension, forced to watch people living happily while I was alone for years! I have no idea how you even exist, why I was the one to suffer because of this… But I will definitely fix what you did to me.”

He paused, smiling in a horrifying way as he revealed his plan:

-“I will not be incomplete once you just stop existing. I will not be missing any part of myself anymore. As soon as I stop maintaining the stability of the rift… You will both perish and I will finally be free.”

A cruel laugh came out of his lips as he watched in delight Snatcher and Vanessa’s reaction to his plan. This guy was absolutely mad. They had to act now!

The shade was trying to find something, anything to help the kid and get them out of a situation like this one. However, when his eyes fell on the brat’s, he noticed her expression had changed from fear to determination. With her eyes, she instructed him to look at her right hand. When the spirit’s glanced down, his ghostly face grew pale immediately.

The kid had materialized a potion in his hand and was cautiously and gently shaking it to activate it.

Instantly, Snatcher’s body became weak at what she was planning to do. She couldn’t seriously think this was a good idea! There were so many other ways involving her not hurting herself in the process of getting away from this monster!

Said monster let his laugh die slowly and started to talk again:

-“Well… I guess this is time for us to say goodbye,” he said, before turning to Vanessa, who was shaking from rage: “I really must thank you, Vanessa. Without you, I would have never been able to go this far. You were so easy to manipulate! Getting the opportunity to finally kill you is the best gift you could have ever given to me.”

He was about to add something when a strong-willed voice interrupted him:

-“Not so fast, you crazy peck neck!”

The little girl’s voice echoed in the room, forcing the other to look at her, surprised. However, when his eyes fell on the little vial in the kid’s hand, his face crumpled in distress. Everything after that happened so fast. The monster immediately released her, trying to get away from her before the potion exploded. Once she was free again, the hat-wearing child managed to throw the potion in his direction while she was sent flying to the other side of the room. Red strings had caught her arms and were taking her as far as possible, but it was too late. The vial had been thrown and the kid had managed to get away from their enemy without getting harmed!

But as Moonjumper was blinded with the explosion, he lost the control of his strings, not seeing where they were taking the brat anymore. But Snatcher was seeing what was about to happen, but he was far too slow to prevent any of it. A deafening and horrifying scream left his lips as he witnessed the little girl being impaled on one of Vanessa’s previous ice pillars.

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:)

=> Chapter 25

[d3-iseefire]

The Symphony of Cinderella Chapter 2

This chapter is short, but the others are all longer. :D

Adagio (Chapter 2)

Bilba stared dully at her reflection in the cracked mirror.

She felt awful.

It had been a week since her performance at Aegnor's theater.  A week filled with interviews at small news stations desperate for stories, and Lobelia's brilliant idea that she should set up a piano outside and give an impromptu concert. Her stepmother had been adamant that not only would it boost ticket sales, but someone in the crowd would undoubtedly film it and create a viral video.

Bilba was fairly certain her stepmother had an incorrect understanding of how viral videos were created, but it was easier to obey than get screamed at so she’d dutifully sat on the rickety bench in front of a rented piano and played classical music on a random street corner.

Instead of instant fame, all Bilba had gotten was rained on.

She'd awakened the next day with a scratchy throat that had soon developed into a full-on head cold. None of this had deterred her stepmother in the slightest, which was why Bilba was currently in a run-down room in the back of a theater so small and old she doubted anyone in Mirkwood remembered it existed.

Lobelia and Lotho always demanded she spend the entire day of a performance at the venue, which she usually appreciated because it gave her a much-needed break from them. Lobelia was out shopping with Priscilla while Lotho and Otho had gone off...somewhere.

Bilba sighed. She could barely breathe through her nose, her eyes were so dry it hurt to keep them open, and every time she swallowed it felt like razor blades were shredding her throat. On top of all it felt like her head was in a vise, as her blocked sinuses made their presence known in the form of a raging headache.

She dug her fingers into her temples in the futile hope it might accomplish something. When that did nothing she folded her arms on the counter and dropped her head on them, letting out a groan of pure misery as she did. 

"Are you all right?"

Bilba twitched in surprise at the deep voice behind her but lacked the energy or desire to lift her head enough to see who it was. There were always stagehands running about, preparing for either her performance or the one after that people actually wanted to see. They were usually too busy to speak to her and she’d started thinking of them as almost background noise. Present but on the edges of her perception, simultaneously there but not there.  

She was pretty sure they saw her in the exactly the same way, there but not really. Not a person so much as the “talent.” Just one more act in a long string of ever changing acts.

"Miss?"

Right, guy behind her. She'd half hoped he'd take the hint and leave her to her misery.

"I'm fine," she managed to mumble into her arms. The act of talking irritated her throat enough to make her cough and her shoulders bunched as her lungs tried their very best to expel themselves from her body. Traitorous bastards. When they finally gave up and settled down she let out another groan and sagged deeper into her arms. "Just kill me."

"I'll be right back," the deep voice said. Footsteps retreated out of the small room.

Bilba grumbled something unintelligible and relaxed. She simply wasn't up for any sort of company. She'd be lucky if she were up for the concert. Maybe if she were given the chance to rest for a few min--

Her train of thought was cut off by the arrival of another stagehand, this one to call her up for sound checks. He left and Bilba lifted her head, which felt like it weighed a ton. She kept her eyes shut for a few more minutes, as she always got vertigo when she was sick, her ears getting stopped up so badly it affected her balance.

When the wave of dizziness passed, she pushed to her feet. A glance in the mirror showed she looked as bad as she felt and she was grateful she hadn’t looked up when either stagehand had appeared. The fewer she traumatized the better.

She had to resist the urge to groan again as she left the room. Her entire body ached, and she desperately wanted to lie down, but knew that wasn't an option for hours. Instead she consoled herself with the knowledge that, even if she could lie down, she'd just end up with her sinuses even more stopped up and her lungs trying all the harder to escape her body.

Maybe she’d get lucky and a piece of scaffolding would fall and knock her unconscious for an hour or two.

That would be nice.

Tragically, no scaffolding fell during her sound check and, what felt like ages later, Bilba wandered down the corridor back to her dressing room. 

If anything, she now felt worse.

The theater was under construction to repair water damage from the same storm that had made her ill. Most of the work was in the main lobby, leaving it and the stage filled with sawdust that clogged her sinuses even worse and left her eyes feeling like someone had rubbed sandpaper over them. 

Someone had pulled the door to her dressing room closed and she hoped that meant it was relatively clear of more sawdust and she’d be able to relax a bit. She grabbed the knob and shoved it open, desperately hoping that she would be left alone long enough to rest for a few minutes.

She took a step inside and stumbled to a stop at the sight that greeted her on her small vanity. 

A small teacup with steam rising from it, next to a bottle of extra strength aspirin and a box of nasal decongestant. There was also an unopened box of tissues and an extra-large bag of cherry flavored cough drops. Finally, just behind the cup of tea, sat a large bowl of soup, steam rising from it and a spoon placed neatly beside it.

Bilba spotted a note propped against her mirror and picked it up.

I didn't know what you'd like but I figured you can't go wrong with green tea and chicken soup for a cold. I hope it helps!

Bilba's vision wavered and she pressed her lips together. The last thing she needed was to cry while being sick. She remembered the door and spun to close it. If Lobelia and Lotho found out someone had done this they'd be angry. They'd insist she must have been complaining and told someone a sob story to manipulate them. They'd say she'd simply done it to make them look bad, as if they didn't do that all on their own.

She sank down into the chair and dragged the bowl and cup toward her. They both smelled heavenly and she was already fantasizing about the feel of the hot liquid on her abused throat.

As she reached for the spoon, her eyes caught on one more item she hadn't originally noticed. A small cell phone tucked just behind the bag of cough drops.

Bilba hesitated, and then reached for it. She didn't recognize the brand, but it lit up as she picked it up, revealing a home screen that looked standard. With a sinking feeling, Bilba pulled up the contacts and saw a single name in the list - "Bringer of Asprin"

A slight smile tugged at the corner of her lips, even as her heart fell further. He was one of those then. The ones who only did something nice because they had convinced themselves they'd get something in return. A date usually, but it was always something. He was probably nearby, had seen her go in her room and, any minute, would text the phone with whatever it was he'd decided he'd "earned."

She scowled, tapping one finger idly on the desk as she waited for the phone to buzz. A minute passed, followed by another, and another after that.

Nothing happened.

She chewed on her lower lip self-consciously, eyes darting to the soup and other supplies. Several more minutes passed until, finally, with a grumble, she leaned forward to grab the teacup.

If he tried to get demanding later she’d give him an autograph or picture or something.

 The tea felt heavenly, as did the soup. It didn’t make her feel 100% better, but her throat felt less raw and her stomach begrudgingly settled a little.

 After she was finished, and had hidden everything as best she could, she retreated to the small couch. The aspirin and nasal decongestant had helped, and though she knew she’d probably soon be going through the entire box of tissue because of them, she was relieved to feel her headache drop to a dull throb in her temples.

She shoved the cell phone under the cushions, tried to prop herself up so she was sort of half sitting/half lying down, and shut her eyes.

If she did manage to fall asleep, she imagined she’d wake up to a demanding text or call on the phone, verifying what she already knew.

 Nobody was ever simply kind.

 It was a lesson she’d learned over and over since her parents has died.

 Hopefully, one day she’d stop feeling so disappointed by it.

Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22263070/chapters/53163472

[nevergiveupneverrun]

Bodyguard - Chapter Twenty-two “More than words” Part Two

Hello, I hope you’re all doing great. Here is chapter twenty-two of my story Bodyguard. I’m sorry by advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link of the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

- Do you have the score of the song? Is that the one you have there? She nods while looking at me, a little lost in front of my question. - What song is it? - I was asked to do a cover on a love song. And I… I choose to cover « More than words » by Extreme. Coincidence? The situation is in any case confusing. This song I’d heard it hundreds of time, maybe even more. It was a song he sang regularly, charmed from the release of the title. One of the pieces he taught me to play… I was a little disconcerted to find that among the thousands of possible song, she had stopped on this one… a song that reminded me of memories and specific moments. But I couldn’t let myself be overwhelmed by the weight of the past when Amelia was in doubt. I move towards the piano and I feel the fixed weight of her eyes on me. I grabbed the guitar and sat on the stool in front of the piano, placing myself from the back of the instrument to face Amelia. I find two big wide blue eyes scrutinize me. I put the guitar on my lap and held out a hand to claim the score. She gives it to me after a few moments, without looking away from me… reacting like a robot, facing me, in a purely automatic gesture. I take a look at the sequence of notes that appears to me, recognizing familiar chords… I put the sheet of paper on the ground after going through it and put the guitar firmly on my lap, one hand on the neck and the second grazing the strings. - You… you know how to play? I don’t answer her question. I just rub my hands against each other, then take the position of the first chord. And I start without waiting for the intro of the piece.

The first notes resound in the room and the melody wins me as every time I heard… pr played this song. My fingers slide on the strings, the chords come naturally without me having to look at the score, as if this music was still anchored in me, in a very specific place in my memory. After a few seconds, I look up at Amelia. I discover her amazed before me, mouth slightly ajar. Then very quickly, finding my eyes, I guess a slight smile settle on her lips. At the end of the intro, I make a slight nod and she sings immediately, mixing her voice with the notes that escaped from the guitar, the rhythm of my finger.

Saying I love you Is not the words that I want to hear from you It’s not that I want you Not to say But if you only knew

I suddenly realize that my feet are beating time and that my head moves to the rhythm of chords, rocked by Amelia’s voice… her softness added a particular dimension to the song that transformed it almost.

How easy it would be to show me how you feel More than words is all you have to do to make it real Then you wouldn’t have to say That you love me Cause I’d already know What would you do if my heart was torn in two More than words To show you feel That you love for me is real What would you say If I took those words away Then you couldn’t make things new Just by saying I love you

I stay focused on Amelia’s image. I had completely forgotten the score and I realize that I didn’t need to follow it, I remembered the melody perfectly… by heart. Amelia was in front of me, eyes closed: she seemed to be inhabited by music… she was beautiful and I felt a strange feeling, as a particular connection that was established between us at this moment… and made me forget everything else.

More than Words

Another voice less intent then rises in the room. And it takes me several seconds to realize that this voice is none other than mine, while I accompany her at this moment of the song. Amelia opens her eyes instantly and smiles at me, with a slight nod as if she encourages me…

Now that I’ve tried to talk to you and make you understand All you have to do is close your eyes

I hum slightly on each end of the sentence as the original two-part version. Like the covers, I’ve done in the past when I mixed my voice with my dad’s. The song, however, seemed different to me, with the crystalline voice of Amelia making the words maybe even stronger.

And just reach out your hands And touch me Pull me close

I capture Amelia’s look at this moment of the piece where I have to pinch the strings, in perfect synchronization with her words.

Don’t ever let me go

She plunges her eyes into mine, and I hold on to her voice to place the chord at the right time, succeeding perfectly this part of the song.

More than words Is all I’ve ever needed you to show Then you wouldn’t have to say That you love me Cause I’d already know

Amelia stares at me for a few seconds and I understand what she asks me without having to communicate. I join my voice very slightly to hers… pressing notes a little longer when she has to follow the lyrics.

What would you do if my heart was torn in two More than words To show you feel That you love for me is real What would you say If I took those words away Then you couldn’t make things new

Just by saying I love you

These last three words, I can only whisper them by looking at her… troubled by the eyes she returns to me at this moment. By these words that touch me and remind me of moments of complicity and tenderness too few of my past.

Lalala-Lalala More than words Lalala-Lalala More than words

I finish the song in the manner of my father, by a series of chords rising in the treble then down again in more serious tone… supporting the last note to lave Amelia last three words a cappella.

More than words

I repeat the melody while Amelia holds us the final notes and I conclude the piece of an ultimate chord slipped on the strings.

Silence resumes suddenly in the room. Silence reconnects me to reality and disintegrates this bubble where I had taken refuge with Amelia for the last four minutes.

I keep my eyes lowered on the guitar, to get a grip on myself. - It was beautiful… you play divinely well… this song is not easy, I even know that Andrew was not happy when I told him I had chosen this song… but you, you have interpreted it perfectly… without any hesitation… you…. I look up: her eyes sparkle looking at me as if she saw me for the first time… as if she saw me in a new light suddenly… - You are incredible… Three words, a look and a heart that beats a little stronger in my chest. I should have looked away, but I can not be fascinated by her reaction and captivated by this spark in her eyes that I can not interpret. - Behind the bodyguard, an exceptional guitarist… I think you play this piece as nicely as Nuno Bettencourt… - Don’t overdo it. - No, really… you…you hid your musician talent… - It’s another part of my life… I have not played for a long time… - You should not leave this talent untapped, you’re so good, it’s a waste… - Amelia… - Richard should hear you… you really are… - Amelia… please… I played to help you out tonight, but don’t think it will be a habit… it’s all behind me… I had responded rather firmly, overwhelmed by the progress of her thought. I was touched by her eulogistic opinion but the guitar remained an almost forbidden object for me: the weight of the past, the memory of events that had marked me forever. - Excuse me, I’m surprised… and impressed… I appreciate in any case that you help me to prepare this pice although it weighs you visibly. - I can make an exception for an evening… - Thank you… you want to try again once? You can refuse, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable… but there are two, three parts I’d like to sing along that could be improved. - Ok… I take the guitar in hand and after exchanging a new look with Amelia, I re-start the melody. True to herself, a single review of the song will not suffice: it’s in at the end, a dozen times that I will play the piece, surprising me to find a certain pleasure to renew this link with the music that I had put in parentheses so many years.

I finish with the last chord, Amelia in front of me, a sheet in her hand with the lyrics where she had scribbled many indications over the tests. - Thank you so much, Owen… I am much more confident… I’ll have to give some directions to Andrew to accompany me exactly as you… I like a lot of the chords that you do in the end… and your voice is pretty magical I think… - I don’t worry about Andrew, he’s a very good guitarist. - Yes, but he clearly does not have your voice… and I’m not sure he’s that good… with what I’ve seen from you in a few minutes… - You know as well as me that the most important thing is not the musician but the voice that we accompany and at this level, there is no problem for you on this song. - Thank you… She takes a look at her watch and a smile quickly grows on her lips. - Always interested in what’s waiting for us in the kitchen? I understand immediately her allusion and I smile too widely in return. - Of course! - It should be ready for a tasting I’ll see what it is… you join me in two minutes? I nod, amused by her sudden enthusiasm. She almost leaves the room in running and I laugh at seeing her go. She sometimes had these attitudes close to a girl who was quite disarming but definitely gorgeous. I rest the guitar in its case, placed a few steps. I get the score with the fingertips to place it on the piano with other leaflets already in place. The title of the song then suddenly sounds in me.

More Than Words: more than words.

A crazy interpretation of Amelia’s attention, of the cake she had cooked for me, imperceptibly invading my mind.

                              More than words to show you how…

This sentence to summarize: a sentence that I can not finish because it would only materialize a reality that scares me. - Owen, it’s ready! Her indication reaches me from the ground floor, her impatience was touching… and still worthy of a child. - Thanks, I’m coming! I leave the score of the gaze, destabilized by this idea which had sprouted in my mind… but I quickly chase it.

It was just one simple attention on her part to thank me.

Simply.

Nothing more.

No more than a word… no more than a thank you.

Thank you for reading! I hope you’ll like it. 💛

[sorryhaz]

Chapter 2

Saturday came around way slower than Harry would’ve liked.

As he was making his way to Nick’s apartment, he kept trying to make himself forget how long it took for him to get ready for the evening. He was the kind of man that liked to look good and figure out what clothes looked the best on him, yes, but the amount of time it took him that day was just purely ridiculous.

The Uber driver kept chatting up with him and Harry just wanted to tell him to shut up, being too nervous to think about anything but just getting to the apartment complex.

As soon as the driver stopped in front of the building, he eagerly thanked him and got out of the car, basically running up the stairs towards Nick’s door, ringing the bell. He anxiously waited for the door to be opened, until a few seconds later it did, to reveal a smiley Nick. Harry hoped to see Jude, so he felt a bit disappointed, but glad to see his friend.

Nick was wearing a grey crewneck, a pair of blue jeans and slippers

“Hey! Glad you made it” Nick greeted, and Harry was sure it was a subtle way of mocking him, since Nick knew for sure that Harry wouldn’t miss the evening.

“Hey, you know I wouldn’t miss the chance of seeing your pretty face” he joked, giving him a hug and letting himself inside, being too familiar with the apartment.

Nick closed the door and led the way to the kitchen, and as they were getting closer to it, Harry could hear some music he did not recognize play, getting louder each time.

The both of them entered the kitchen, where Jude softly sang along to the music as she was cutting some limes. She turned around and smiled at the two young men. Harry smiled back; she looked so good. Her curls were let down, tugged behind her ears, that were decorated with some golden hoops, and resting on her shoulders. She wore a colorful, flower-printed shirt, tugged inside some vintage looking denim pants, and some black moccasins.

“Hi! How are you?” she left the knife on the cutting board she was using, getting closer to greet Harry with a small embrace.

“Very good, thank you” he smiled back, and wished the embrace would’ve lasted longer “What are you doing? You need any help with that?” he questioned as he took his jacket off, letting it rest on one of the stools that were in front of the kitchen’s island.

“Oh, we decided to change the menu, if that’s alright” she informed “Mojitos and burritos” she said in a perfect Spanish. Harry swore he could’ve melt right there “You like Mexican food?” she wondered shyly.

“It’s absolutely perfect” he assured.

“Go and set the table, could you?” Nick said, as he took out a bottle of rum and another one of tonic water.

Harry nodded, although he would’ve rather stay in the same room that Jude was in. He quickly grabbed some plates and cutlery, being as fast as he possibly could to set the table in the dining room.

He could hear Nick and Jude chatting inside the kitchen, and he had to tell himself off for being so nosey and trying to hear their conversation.

As soon as he was done setting the table he went back to the kitchen, where Jude was mixing the liquids together in some glasses, serving the mojitos. Nick was stirring something on a pan, and Harry had to admit it smelled good.

He took a seat and stared at Jude, taking the chance since she was focused on making the drinks and making them pretty with some lime wedges. She had eyeliner on and her eyes looked even greener than they already were. Nick turned off the fire and started chopping something besides Jude. The music was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a notification on Nick’s phone that was resting on the kitchen’s island, making the three of them look at it.

“What is it?” Nick wondered, giving Harry the permission to read it.

“It’s a message from Matt, asking what are you up to” the curly haired informed.

“Telling that I’m having a dinner with some friends, ask him if he wants to come for drinks later” Nick instructed and Harry started to type the answer. A few seconds later, another message popped up.

“He says he’ll stop by” he locked the phone and the music filled the room again. “So, Jude, you sure you don’t need help at all?” he asked yet again. She shook her head.

“No, I’m done actually” she handed each of them a glass of the drinks and sat next to Harry.

“Thank you” he said, the feeling of nervousness filling him up. Nick kept chopping vegetables and strategically gave them his back, pulling himself apart of the conversation after he received his drink. “I know we saw each other just a few days ago, but what have you been up to?” he asked.

Jude’s face lit up, clearly excited to share what she had been doing with him “I finished some paintings I was working on” she informed “Just some practice things, really, but I guess it feels nice to finish them” she reflects “What about you?”

“Just lounged around” he quickly answered “I didn’t know you were an artist, I wish I could see some of your work someday”.

“I mean, I’m not an artist” Nick scoffs as she hears that, turning around to give raise her eyebrows at her “I’m not!” she laughs “I mean, I do paint and shit, but like, that’s not what I really do, I’m more of an art fan” she explains “I enjoy art on all of its ways” she smiles.

“Have you been to Tate Modern since you’ve lived here?” Harry asks, really hoping to be able to take her out.

“No, I actually haven’t” she frowns at herself “But I’d love to”

As he’s about to tell her to go with him, Nick interrupts them, asking them to help him set the ingredients in different bowls as he takes out the tortillas from the oven.

The three of them took the food to the dining table, sitting like they did the last time.

While Nick and Harry struggled to wrap their burritos, Jude seemed to be just fine, managing to wrap a perfect burrito in a matter of seconds.

“So” Harry spoke, after taking a sip of his mojito “What do you study, Jude?”

“Graphic design” she answered “Although I just want to do everything creative that exists on earth” she sighed “Like, I just want to create, I have like so many ideas and this really strong will to create art so I just don’t know, graphic design seemed like the career that allowed that the most.”

Nick chimed in “She’s, like, really good on everything on the artistic side” he explained, making Jude blush “For real man, the girl is talented, you should see her studio sometime” he kicked Harry from under the table, clearly teasing him.

“Oh, you have a studio?” he wondered, clearly too interested since he barely had touched his food.

“Not really, I just use my apartment as a studio” she explained “But you’re more than welcome to come whenever you want, it’s literally next door” she smiled “Yeah, come over sometime and grab a coffee or something”

Harry felt like his chest was filled with the bubbliest substance on earth.

“Sure, a coffee would be nice”

The three of them finished eating and had a decent amount of mojitos when they were done with dinner, clearly tipsy as they continued chatting sitting on Nick’s living room.

Nick sat on a huge Indian cushion he had laying on the ground whilst Jude and Harry both sat on the red velvet couch. Nick was telling a story about this guy he had met a couple of nights before, unburdening his disappointment, as the guy seemed like a real asshole.

“He didn’t even call me!” Nick whined “Like, I would’ve at least expected a text, it’s 2017” he rested his chin on his palm as he pouted, giving the image of a teenage girl asking her friends for advice.

“Fuck him, then” Jude said, giggling “We’re still young anyway, Nick” she said, playing with the straw of her glass “We can allow ourselves to be single and free and all, no strings are needed for now” she shrugged “Or at least that’s how I see it”.

Harry listened closely to what she said, and felt like grabbing her and kissing her and telling her that he would be just fine being attached to her, no matter how young he was. Although he didn’t say a word, just nodded “Yeah mate, enjoy your youth” he muttered.

“You might be young, you both are just on your twenties!” Harry wondered how old was Jude “but I’m on my thirties” Nick cringed a little as the words exited his mouth “That’s basically being about to die” the three of them laughed at Nick’s dramatism, the laughter dying when the bell rang.

Jude got up to open the door, revealing Matt standing on the other side, holding a bottle of wine. He was wearing black jeans, a pair of Vans and a red sweater, and smelled like a combination of wood and cigarettes.

“Look at you! It’s been way too long!” he grinned at her, hugging her tightly “Didn’t expect to see you, didn’t know you were here” he said, clearly excited to see the girl.

“It’s been too long, yes” she smiled, cuddling him one more time “so nice to see you” she let him in. Jude had always had a crush on Matt, period. He just seemed so artistic to her, and he was one of the most worded men she knew, something way too attractive in her eyes.

Harry’s eyes travelled curiously through the two figures and tried to think how they met. He thought that they probably met during one of Nick’s dinner parties while he was on tour. He couldn’t help but get a bit jealous of Matt, something he had never felt before.

Matt was a cool chap. Always had a good conversation to offer and was the most easy-going person he knew. He always was a laugh, wherever he was.

After he had greeted everyone, Matthew sat on the other couch, opposite from Harry, Jude sitting right next to him.

“I was just telling Harry about these paintings I just finished” Jude said to Matt “I want you to see them, I think you’re going to like them” she smiled.

“Sure thing love” he smiled as he shifted on his seat, trying to get something from his pocket “Just shoot me a text and I’ll be there”.

Harry’s body sank on the red couch. He just called her ‘love’. He also told her to ‘shoot him a text’, so she obviously had his number. He felt like a child. He felt like protesting and telling her that no, she was going to show him her art, not Matt.

He got up, his glass in his hand, and walked towards the kitchen; he needed a drink. He could feel Nick following him up.

“Why did you invite him too?” Harry asked, a bit pissed off, although he knew it wasn’t like Nick had planned it like this.

“Because we’re mates, H” Nick rolled his eyes “you’re mates with him too” he reminded him “And it’s not my fault that he and Jude just like each other so much” he shrugged.

“Don’t say that, God” Harry took a big sip off his glass “She’s so cool, Nick” he knew it was, in part, the alcohol talking, but he just left himself go “I know I’ve just met her, but I swear she’s the coolest girl I’ve ever met. There’s not one single thing about her that isn’t interesting, her whole person just awakens so much curiosity on me.” He let a sigh “But she’s clearly into Matty”.

Nick, once again, rolled his eyes “Don’t be such a drama queen, Styles” he laughed “As you said, you’ve just met her. In fact, here’s something so you won’t like her that much: She’s grumpy as fuck in the mornings. For real. Unbearable.” Harry laughed at Nicholas, smiling at his attempt of cheering him up.

However, as soon as they stepped back into the living room, everything Nick said or could’ve said, was absolutely nothing. There they were, Jude and Matt, locking lips. He pressed his lips against hers, and stopped to caress her curls and whisper things against her lips.

Harry looked at nick and let out a small, sarcastic laughter.

Maybe, not today.

[barbosaasouza]

Hearthstone's Che Chou on HCT Tour Stops, Global Games, Tess Greymane, and More

The 2018 Hearthstone Summer Championship has come to an end, with one winner standing above the rest. However, the Hearthstone Esports season is just getting warmed up, not only moving right along towards the Hearthstone World Championship in early 2019, but also looking to make some adjustments along the way.

Shacknews last spoke to Hearthstone Esports Franchise Leader Che Chou during the 2017 HCT World Championship weekend back in January. With the new season well underway, Shacknews returned for another round with Mr. Chou, asking about the evolution of the 2018 Hearthstone Championship Tour, the growth of the Hearthstone community, the Tess Greymane controversy, and carrying on after the departure of beloved Hearthstone Game Director Ben Brode.

Photo credits: Blizzard Entertainment

Shacknews: I enjoy this opportunity to check in on the current state of Hearthstone Esports. Last time we talked, you said that 2016 and 2017 were Hearthstone's "growing up" phase and 2018 was going to be the adolescent phase. How do you feel this adolescent phase has gone so far?

Che Chou, Hearthstone Esports Franchise Leader: In terms of adolescence, as we've all been through it, I think it could be tumultuous. So far, if you describe it as adolescence, I think it's going pretty well. A lot of the new systems that we put in place, such as Tour Stops, Masters, and the separation of Challengers and Pros, I think is going really positive and, obviously, my team and I are keeping a close eye on the balance of things and community sentiment.

To me, a couple of the standout are, one… we knew that having Tour Stops was an important component, at least for us. We felt passionate that there was a vibrant scene in competitive Hearthstone. We wanted to do more than just have them play in online cups and sit at home and play online. So we knew that we wanted to see what would happen if you brought your core contingent of your top 500 players together on this tour. And so far, what we've seen is incredible synergy and comradery, in terms of the player base coming together and sharing stories and sharing strategies, even while they're competitors at these tournaments.

The second thing is, demand has outstripped supply. Every time we open a Tour Stop qualifier sign-up, it fills up instantly. So we're monitoring conversation around topics like "Are there too many Tour Stops? Are there not enough Tour Stops?" We've heard feedback around the accessibility of Tour Stops. Some players feel like it's not a big deal. Other players feel like it's a huge deal, because they don't have the resources to travel to Grand Prix events and events that are purely offline. Those are the things that we're monitoring and, kind of like last, we are still in a "learn" phase. We are definitely looking at how things are going and we will adjust according to what's best for our community.

Shacknews: There have been quite a few Tour Stops and you've hit places like Italy and Singapore. But between these events and the Grand Prixs at different DreamHack events. What do you feel is the key to preventing event fatigue for viewers?

Chou: I'm not sure that there's viewer fatigue just yet. I do think that where we can get better is in articulating to viewers how all of it fits together in a very easy-to-understand linear progression. Because at the end of the day, these Tour Stops, qualifier events, and activities all feed into the playoffs. And for us, in terms of viewer fatigue, I don't think it's quite there today, but I do think that we can do better about stringing the stories together.

Some of that initiative is happening right now. One, shoulder content is important, so we've launched a couple of things. One is Talk Stone, a bi-weekly video podcast talk show featuring HCT talent and that is designed to help bridge the in-between Tour Stop weeks. Right now, with 24 Tour Stops this year, there's almost a live Hearthstone event every week on broadcast. Fans are hungry for it and we're seeing viewership numbers at a good place, but I think that to string it together into a narrative of this event, this event, this event, and what does it all mean and what does it mean for pro team standings, and what does it mean for top players? We wanted to get a show together to let our viewers better understand how the story fits. That's hosted by Frodan [Dan Chou, no relation], TJ [Tyler James Sanders], and ThatsAdmirable [Nathan Zamora]. So we launched that just the other week and it's doing well.

We also have a documentary series called "The Tour," which is designed to provide more of a human angle to Tour Stops and HCT. And behind the results and the wins and losses, it's a community of people and there's tons of stories there. We launched Episode 1 last week and it's gotten terrific reception. We plan on doing nine episodes for The Year of the Raven.

We're hard at work at trying to tell a better story around HCT. Oh, and also, we relaunched our website! We know that hasn't been ideal, because we have a lot of information and we need to get it out there, so the website launch was an important thing for us. That's something that will be ongoing. Every few months, we're going to release a new feature. Basically, it's going to be the home of HCT and it's going to be what we lean on to provide information that viewers will need to catch up and understand what's happening.

Finally, I'm already thinking about 2019 and 2020. All these things feed into what I want to do for next year to continue to clarify storylines for viewers. So, to answer your question, I don't think there's viewer fatigue, but I do think we can do a better job. We have a massive global grassroots program and it's a challenge pulling it all together.

Shacknews: Can you offer viewers a better idea of what's coming in "The Tour" and its next eight episodes, because one thing I've been curious about is how you feel the Hearthstone community has continued to evolve since HCT Worlds?

Chou: You might be pleasantly surprised that it is a documentary focused on HCT. The backdrop of the documentary is about the Tour Stops and the competition that's there.

But really, at the forefront... for instance, in episode one, it's a story focused set at the Taipei Tour Stop that took place last month and it is a story of how HCT has changed the lives of two people, primarily. One, obviously, is tom60229 [Chen Wei Lin], our World Champion from Taipei, and how winning the World Championship has changed his life and we illustrate that by, for instance… this is the first year that Taipei has officially recognized esports as an official sport of the country. So they had this intercollegiate championship thing with real sports and this is the first year that esports was an event there. And he was the poster boy for esports, because he won the World Championship in Hearthstone. So he was there with the president of the organization on stage, taking pictures, and giving a speech. So that's pretty awesome, because Tom's life has changed.

Meanwhile, we also focused on Jia Dee, who's an up-and-coming caster out of the Southeast Asia region. She was casting the Taipei Tour Stop, so we focused on her and how, as a molecular biology major student, how casting Hearthstone and playing Hearthstone has changed her life as well. And she gets to travel around the world, see new things, meet new people, make new friends.

It's focused on people and how Hearthstone has changed their lives and, right now, the way I see this playing out is, each episode will be a bit of a self-contained story. Episode one focused on these two people, episodes two and three are going to focus on back-to-back Tour Stops between DreamHack Austin, HCT Seoul, and DreamHack Sweden. We had crews at all three events. The next couple of episodes are going to focus on those Tour Stops and the players there, such as JustSaiyan [David Shan], Muzzy [Muzahidul Islam], and a lot of these pro players that you know. Each episode will be a little bit different. Tour Stops will be the consistent backdrop. Obviously, we'll try and tell the story of the tournament itself, but really, it's through the eyes of the people and how Hearthstone has changed their lives.

Shacknews: Moving on to the Hearthstone Global Games, the dates and rosters are set. What will set this apart from other Hearthstone competitive tournaments that we've seen?

Chou: It's our official team sport right now for Hearthstone. We've had individual competition all year round, so it'll be a good change of pace to see an all-star game where literally the best players in the world are on these country teams. And sometimes they're strange bedfellows, because they're usually on different teams in the professional world. When it comes to HGG, it's our World Cup come together. So there's going to be that interesting dynamic in that they get teamed up with people they don't necessarily expect to be teamed up with.

Secondly, this year, we've also changed it up in that we shortened the HGG season a little bit. Last year, it was 15 weeks of group play and went into Gamescom for the world finals. This year, we shortened it to about eight weeks of group play for the round of 48 to the round of 16 and we fly the top 8 out to BlizzCon this year.

It's changed and we're putting a lot more prestige and emphasis on HGG by showcasing the final at BlizzCon, but at the end of the day, I think it's going to be a refinement of what we did last year. We're also looking at the dynamic of… we've learned a lot about team Hearthstone dynamics last year, so we also want to experiment with how to present that better and make it a more interesting moment-to-moment experience.

Tess Greymane

Shacknews: There was recently some controversy regarding the timing of Hearthstone updates. Some fans weren't so happy about waiting out the Summer playoffs for the latest patch. But on top of that, there was an issue regarding a hotfix for Tess Greymane and how competitive players couldn't adjust their decks following her adjustments. What's the process in determining when an update should go live to best serve both the casual and competitive communities? And also, what type of feedback has the team received regarding what happened with Tess Greymane?

Chou: First of all, I think the response internally has been that this shouldn't happen ever. It's unacceptable and it was all-hands-on-deck in discussing how to avoid this going forward. I have nothing to announce today, but I'll just say that what happened at HCT Seoul in terms of that last-minute patch, it's a priority for Team 5 and the esports team to figure out. Because, one, it shouldn't happen. And two, we need to get to a place where the game team can do what they need to do to serve the wider Hearthstone gaming population and also, because it's a free-to-play online game that is very agile, they will be making patches all the time. We release lots of expansions and they're going to be balancing things all the time. That's just going to happen.

You also have the reality of Hearthstone Esports is a massive program with a lot of tournaments, especially with the Tour Stop system. It's going to be nearly unavoidable where we have situations with "There's a tournament next weekend and you're putting out a patch this week, so how do we balance that?" We're discussing how to get to a place where [the Tess Greymane situation] never happens again. The discussion right now is going to probably involve dev work. Again, nothing to announce formally. But I do think that this is something that we're going to have to partner closely with the game team on to solve. And it's something that we will solve in the very near future.

Shacknews: And lastly, this is the first major seasonal championship without Ben Brode. How has his departure affected the Hearthstone team as a whole and the esports team, in particular?

Chou: Ben has been the spirit animal for Hearthstone, the franchise, in general. And obviously, we all love him. But from an esports standpoint, Ben hasn't really been iconic for the esport, in my opinion, and so his departure hasn't really impacted HCT. That said, he's missed. Let's put it that way. And we all wish him the best.

The Hearthstone Esports season continues with the start of Season 2 at this weekend's HCT Italy. For more on this past weekend's Summer Championship, revisit our breakdown of the epic Shudderwock Mirror.

Hearthstone's Che Chou on HCT Tour Stops, Global Games, Tess Greymane, and More published first on https://superworldrom.tumblr.com/

[anavoliselenu]

Creighton Chapter 1

COUNTRY STAR JC HUGHES CAUGHT BETWEEN A COCK AND A HARD PLACE

How is he going to explain this one away to girlfriend Selena Wix and his fans?

“That two-timin’ son of a . . .”

I hiss under my breath as I stare at the headline—and the compromising picture accompanying it—splashed in vivid color across the front page of the gossip rag displayed prominently in the checkout line at my supermarket. For the second time in two months, it’s a picture of my “boyfriend” locked in an unmistakably passionate embrace with another woman, except this time she’s wearing a giant black strap-on.

The edges of the paper crumple in my sweaty grip, and I fight the urge to tear it to shreds, along with every copy sitting on the rack in front of me.

He’s going to destroy my career before it even has a chance to become a reality.

One year, they said. One year in this joke of a “relationship” and I’d earn my stripes, be all set in the world of country music. Judge me all you want for agreeing, but when your brand-new record label puts something like that in the contract that will jet you out of the backwoods town you’re dying to escape, you don’t ask questions. You sign on the dotted line.

But reality is a cold slap in the face, and some days it hits you when you’re standing in line at the grocery store. What happens when they finally catch JC with a guy? His habit of swinging both ways, but preferring men to women, is about to become the worst-kept secret in Nashville.

I’m Selena Wix, winner of a make-me-a-star TV show, and handpicked by the label to buoy JC’s once-impressive but now flagging career. It didn’t seem like a big deal when they slipped it into my contract in the beginning. What starry-eyed girl wouldn’t be thrilled to have her name linked to a country star?

Instead of the one-way ticket to stardom I naively expected, I’m becoming the butt of every industry joke faster than the guys back home can spend their paycheck on twelve-packs and scratch-offs. But I’ve got one shot at keeping this dream career alive, and honestly, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save it. So this situation with JC needs to get settled before things spiral further out of control.

Tugging the bill of my trucker hat lower, I glance around to see if anyone has noticed me flipping out in the checkout line. A woman behind me clucks her tongue as she pulls her sunglasses out of her baby’s mouth.

Crap.

That cluck of her tongue was aimed at me, not the toothless, blue-eyed, smiling baby. Surprisingly, though, the expression on her face is sympathetic, not angry.

“Men are assholes, am I right? Being famous just makes them bigger ones.”

I smile weakly, and she continues. “Don’t believe everything you read in the papers, doll. They’re always ninety-five percent bullshit. Probably Photoshopped. He should have his head examined if he’s cheating on you.”

Snapping my gaze back to her, I read recognition all over her face, despite my hat, glasses, complete lack of makeup, and relatively low level of fame. I force a smile onto my face, but it feels awkward and fake.

“It’s called a gossip rag for a reason, I guess?” I reply, failing at my attempt to inject some humor into my tone.

She nods and gestures to the half dozen bottles of wine in her cart. “This probably sounds crazy forward, but you look like you could use a drink and someone to vent to.”

Vent to a perfect stranger I met in the grocery store? That would be insane, not to mention dangerous. If I did, the “she said” side of the story would be splashed all over tomorrow’s papers, and the label would kill me—the painful death of breach of contract and being blackballed in the industry.

I already used up strike one the first time a picture of JC hit the papers. I marched right into Homegrown Records’ offices and told them their devil’s deal wasn’t worth it, and that I wouldn’t help JC’s career at the expense of my own.

Their response? If I didn’t turn around, march my ass right back out of the office, and paste a smile on my face, they’d yank me off my tour, and I’d be a has-been before I ever got the chance to become a someone.

I’d go to bat for my career any day of the week, but faced with the threat of losing it, I’m ashamed to say I backed down and toed the company line. You only get one shot at your dream. It’s not something I’m willing to let go . . . regardless of how much of my pride I might have to swallow. Which brings me back to the gossip rag and the woman in front of me.

An awkward silence stretches between us in the checkout line as all the scenarios swirl through my brain of how I can reply to her. Finally, she smiles, and there’s something kind and knowing in her expression.

“I know what you’re thinking—you can’t spill your side of the story to anyone. Too risky.” She lifts her hand and flashes a giant rock on her left ring finger. “But I’m not just anyone. I’ve been on the front page of the tabloids too, and I know exactly how much it sucks. After being married for a decade to the biggest reformed horndog of them all, I’m no stranger to any of it. On top of that, I’d never break the vows of sisterhood.”

My gaze darts from the giant diamond to her face. Studying her makeup-free features, it finally hits me. “You’re Tana Vines.”

Tana Vines was the Female Country Artist of the Year about ten years back, and her husband was awarded Entertainer of the Year at least four or five times during that time. They’re country music legends. A true power couple.

She holds out her hand and I shake it, operating purely on instinct.

“Yes, I am,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you, Selena Wix.”

Two bottles of wine later, Tana and I lay sprawled on chaise lounges beside her indoor pool. Behind the gated walls, and in the presence of someone I listened to on the radio in junior high, I finally have a chance to unburden all the crap that has been filling my head for months.

“Six more months? That’s a hell of a long time to put up with JC’s bullshit. Not to mention keeping your own legs closed. Good Lord, girl. Aren’t you dying to get some dick?” Tana asked.

An embarrassed laugh escapes my lips. “Um, I’ve been pretty preoccupied with learning the ropes, I guess.”

“Well, shit. I’d be dying for dick.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize my position with the label. I have a feeling that if my picture ended up in the paper the way JC’s has, the double standards would have me out on my butt so fast, I couldn’t even yell ‘Bingo!’ first.”

Tana rolls onto her side and faces me. “That’s probably the truth, but it don’t make it fair. The only reason they’re covering his ass is the shelf of awards he’s got from five years ago, and all the money they’ve got invested in him. You’re the perfect image booster. But you’re right—you’re expendable if you step out of line.”

I already looked up to Tana as a country idol, but now I have to say I have a bit of a girl crush. She doesn’t sugarcoat anything, and it’s refreshing in this world of people who say one thing and mean something completely different.

“Who’s expendable?”

A deep voice echoes through the pool room as Mick Vines walks in. The man—a living country legend—picks up one of the empty bottles on the table between our lounge chairs. “And damn, Tana. I’ve been lookin’ for you for a half hour.”

“Gemma knew where I was.” Gemma, I learned, was Tana and Mick’s live-in nanny.

Tana sits up as Mick sets the bottle down and leans over to press a kiss to her lips.

“There. Been lookin’ for that. My little bit a sugar.”

I turn my head away as Tana wraps her hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in for another kiss, this one not nearly so innocent. She doesn’t seem to care that I’m intruding on their intimate moment. And it’s a moment that makes me wish even more that I wasn’t trapped in this mess.

Not that I’m looking for what they have—because I’m truly not. I’m not looking for that kind of happily-ever-after for a good five or ten years. I’m too young for that, and my focus is on my career, exactly where it’s supposed to be when you’re standing on the edge of achieving the dream you’ve had since you were ten years old.

But even on that edge, I’m still only a puppet with the label pulling the strings. Six months in, and I’m already sick and tired of being yanked in the directions they want me to go. What could I accomplish if only I could cut those tethers and come into my own? But slicing those ties would mean sacrificing what I’ve already accomplished, and that’s not an option.

Mick stands tall again and notices me for the first time. “Who’s our guest, babe?”

It’s much less of a surprise that he doesn’t recognize me than it was for Tana to make the connection. Honestly, I’m still a nobody in this industry. I’m working my tail off on becoming a somebody, and I’ve got fans, but to someone at Mick Vines’s level, I’ll always be a nobody.

I smile and hold out my hand. “Selena Wix.”

His eyes narrow as he shakes my outstretched hand. “I’ve heard your name. Why have I heard your name?”

I’m stunned that there’s even a hint of recognition in him. My stomach turns in big flopping waves, and Tana jumps in, saving me from bumbling whatever explanation is about to fall from my lips.

“I picked up Selena in the checkout line while we bonded over how much it blows to see yourself on the front of a gossip rag.”

Mick’s gaze narrows further before it lights with knowledge. “Wix. You’re the hot young thing JC Hughes has on his arm these days.”

I cringe at the description, because that’s not how I want to be known. But that’s what happens when you sign a deal with the devil.

Tana slaps his thigh from her seated position. “And she’s touring with Boone Thrasher because she’s the hottest new talent to hit the stage since Carrie and Miranda.”

Her adamant statement throws me for a loop, and those nervous waves in my belly glimmer with pride.

Mick rocks back on the heels of his tooled black leather boots. “Ain’t heard her sing yet, but I’ve sure seen her picture.”

I wince, pride doused.

“And that’s the problem. The label has backed her into a corner, and they’ve made the JC situation a requirement. She can’t get out of it,” Tana explains.

Mick studies me. “Who you with, girl?”

“Homegrown. They signed me when I won Country Dreams.”

“Ah.” Mick nods twice. “Now I know where I first heard your name. And you probably signed a devil’s bargain to get your ‘million-dollar recording contract’ after you won.”

It isn’t even a question. Mick knows how the game is played.

“It was that or keep working at a bowling alley in BFE, Kentucky, and never taking my shot. At least this got me to Nashville.”

He raises a hand. “No need to get defensive. I’m not judging. We all take the route we need to take to get here, but that means living with the consequences. How long are you stuck with this JC bullshit? I’m assuming you have to suck it up and smile on his arm to help shine up his image and get some good press. Besides, we all know he’s been on the edge of casino-playing retirement for a more than a few years now.”

Dang. Mick really does know how the game is played. I guess you couldn’t be in Nashville as long as he has without learning all the pitfalls.

“Six months,” Tana offers. “And it’s not like when our managers hooked us up. JC doesn’t seem to care either way if he hurts Selena’s career.”

I swivel my head around to stare at Tana. “I didn’t know that you . . .” I glance back to Mick. “Really? Your relationship started out as a publicity stunt?”

Tana laughs. “Of course it did. Why else do you think I’d get involved with such a man-whore? I needed some street cred, and he was getting all the wrong kinds of press for sleeping with everything with tits.”

“Jesus, baby. That’s ancient history—and we kept that shit quiet for a reason.”

“I’m just saying that sometimes it actually works out fine,” Tana says.

Mick shakes his head. “Back to the point of this conversation.” Aiming his stare at me, he continues. “You could be fucked in six months if JC keeps this shit up. You’ve got sympathy on your side right now, but if you keep laying down and taking it, you’re just going to look like a fool.”

Tana slaps his thigh again. “Not helping.”

Her husband reaches down and grabs her hand. “Quit, woman, or I’ll spank your ass even harder tonight.”

Tana’s face flushes a bright red, and I decide to let the comment go without trying to figure out exactly what they’re talking about.

Mick releases her hand and grabs the magazine shoved between the wine bottles. “This the rag with the cheating dick?”

Shaking her head, Tana grabs it from his hand. “Nope, that’s the one with the hot billionaire dick I’m going to marry if you decide to leave me for some country starlet.”

I catch a glimpse of the cover. It’s a copy of Forbes, and there’s a stupidly handsome dark-haired man on the cover.

The headline reads: JUSTIN KARAS CRUSHES COMPETITION.

“What are you talking about, woman? You’d bury me out back if I so much as looked at another woman,” Mick grumbles.

Tana’s lyrical laugh echoes off the walls. “Damn right, and don’t you forget it.”

I snatch the magazine out of his hand to get a closer look.

“Whoa, girl. Calm down.”

I wave him off, the wine dulling the instincts that would otherwise have me continuing to bow and scrape in his country-music royalty presence.

“Shhh. I need to look at him.” I’m not sure why I need silence to do that, but apparently the large bottle of wine I drank says I do.

The man is gorgeous, but he looks cocky and arrogant. I flip the magazine open and page through it until I find another picture of him.

I win because losing isn’t an option.

—Justin Karas

I know I’m truly drunk when the only thought filtering through my brain is how much I’d like to be his prize when he’s winning. Where the hell did that come from? And like I’d even know what to do with a man like that. He’s so far out of my league, it’s not even funny.

I glance over at Mick and Tana, who are once again locked in a tangle of lips and limbs.

And . . . that’s my cue to leave.

I slap the magazine shut and rise on shaky legs. “I should probably get going.”

Tana pulls away from Mick and raises an eyebrow in my direction. “Honey, you ain’t driving anywhere. I’ll go make up a guest room. It’s the very least I can do since I got you shitfaced.”

“Not necessary. I should get home. I have . . . a plant that needs water. Or something.”

I squint because I can’t remember if my plant is dead or alive. I haven’t watered it in as long as I can remember. Apparently I’m thinking too hard about plants, which might be alive or dead, and not concentrating on my balance because I tip forward.

Mick catches me with an outstretched palm. “Come on, honey. We’re putting you up tonight. Won’t hear anything different.”

He turns me around and marches me toward the door that leads into the sprawling mansion. “Besides, it seems like someone needs to take you under their wing so you don’t get chewed up and spit out by this bitch of an industry. My wife isn’t exactly the type to bring home strays, so she must’ve seen something in you needing a little protection. We’re gonna make sure you have it.”

My eyes burn, and I blink back the unexpected tears. I’ve been in this town for six months, essentially friendless, and in one night I’ve apparently been adopted by two people I never thought I would ever have a chance to meet.

“G’night, Selena. I’ll see you in the morning, sweets,” Tana calls from behind me.

Apart from those blissful moments standing onstage, for the first time in months I have a genuine smile on my face, and I feel like I belong somewhere.

It doesn’t last long.

“We’ll put your ass on a bus back to Podunk if you don’t toe the line, Wix. That bowling alley you used to sing at? They won’t even let you back onstage when I’m done tearing you apart,” Morty, the jerk-off record exec, rails at me in the conference room of Homegrown Records.

It’s been two months since the night I met Tana, and JC has managed to land in the paper three more times. I can’t let this stand any longer. I’ve officially become the laughingstock of Nashville, and I can’t take any more pitying looks from the guys on my tour.

When the bus pulled into town this morning, I went directly to Tana’s house first. We’ve kept in touch, and every time I’ve been back in town on a break, she’s made time to get together. It’s the first real friendship I’ve had since Mary Jane Devo married her Marine sweetheart and moved to Hawaii almost two years ago.

I’m not the kind of girl who makes friends easily—mostly because I work as much as I can, and I never have extra money to go shopping or get a pedicure. But now when it matters, and I’m living in a new town and knee-deep in a business where I’m not sure who I can trust, Tana has been a lifesaver.

Her advice was to tell them to fuck off and take my chances. So this morning I grew a pair of lady balls and marched into the office to tell them to screw this JC nonsense because it isn’t worth it.

I just didn’t plan on JC being there too.

“What the hell do you have to complain about?” he says, leaning back in the cushy leather conference room chair. “You’re getting plenty of press. Maybe you’re still too green to realize it, but there ain’t no such thing as bad publicity.”

I want to smack the smug look off JC’s face. He’s baiting me, just waiting to see if I’ll push Morty any further and get myself thrown back on that bus to Podunk.

“Well, in this case, I think you’re wrong,” I say, holding my chin high. “Crushing my career doesn’t seem like good business.”

JC laughs. “You’re just gettin’ started, sweetheart. This is the best thing that ever happened to you. I guess I can try to be a little more discreet . . . ,” he says, glancing at Morty.

Morty nods. “Good, then we’re done here.”

Oh no. No, we are not done here.

“I don’t think so,” I say, and point at JC. “He needs a babysitter to keep it in his pants, not a pretend girlfriend. If you want to save his career, why don’t you focus on putting out more hits, not on his love life?”

“I love when you talk about me like I’m not even here, baby,” JC drawls. “Maybe I’ll write a love song for you. How’d ya like that?”

He was patronizing me. I’ve never been exactly sure what that word means, but I’m pretty sure this is it.

“Don’t call me—” I start.

“Girl, if you don’t—” Morty interrupts, most likely to threaten me some more, but Jim, his partner, jumps to his feet and presses both hands to the solid wood surface of the conference room table.

We both shut up and look his way.

“You know, I think we’re going about this all the wrong way,” Jim says, nodding and looking very much like a man with a plan.

Relief filters through me at the hope that Jim might be seeing some sense. But my hope and relief are doused just as quickly as he continues.

“I don’t think it’s less of a relationship that we need for you two, but more.”

What in the world? More?

I look at JC, but he looks puzzled too.

“Go on,” he says. “I can’t wait to hear this idea.”

I’m pretty sure I could wait the rest of my life and never hear this idea and be perfectly happy. This is probably the moment I should march out of the room and search for some time rewinding device, because I have a feeling things are about to go from bad to worse for me.

Jim looks from JC to me and then back to Morty, his eyes lighting with excitement. “JC and Selena will get engaged; it’ll be perfect. We can set it up so it’s all public.”

He pauses and rubs his hands together like a kid on Christmas morning. “New Year’s Eve. That’s it. Boone and Selena’s tour will be on break, and JC, we got you that spot on Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve. You can propose at midnight, and it’ll be fucking brilliant PR.”

As my chest tightens in horror, Jim looks at me. “The press will forget about all this bullshit in the papers because they love a good celebrity romance. JC will put out a statement about how he’s been sorting through some things, but now he has his priorities in line and he’s ready to move forward.”

No, this is not happening.

“What?”

My voice, which is capable of hitting some pretty earsplitting high notes when necessary, screeches through the conference room, and for a moment I hope I have the vocal capacity to shatter the glass door.

I don’t.

I look at JC, who has slapped his hands over his ears. “Whoa, girl. Easy on the ears.”

“You can’t agree to this!” I yell. “This is insane!”

Morty slaps the table. “Jesus fucking Christ, Wix. Calm the hell down. It’s not like you have to marry the man. Just pretend to be engaged for four months. Maybe longer, depending on how things go.”

I bite my lip until the coppery tang of blood fills my mouth. It’s the only way I can stop myself from screaming and cursing them out. And maybe, you know, murdering them. I’m from the backwoods; I know how to hide bodies.

One phrase repeats in my head: Maybe longer?

Four months. That’s what’s left of my contract. Four. Months. And then Homegrown won’t own my soul. Oh, they could still try to blackball me, but they won’t have a legal hold over me.

I can’t do this. JC will never agree, either. Right?

I walk around the table to JC and sit down next to him. “You can’t think this is a good idea. You can’t go along with this.”

JC just smiles his easy good-ole-boy smile and lays his hand over mine. “You ever worn a strap-on before, baby? Because I think we can make this work. Country music’s power couple. Fuck, maybe even a real weddin’ and everything.” His eyes rake me up and down. “You’re lookin’ a hell of a lot sexier than the last time I saw you, so why the hell not?”

Oh. My. God.

I yank my hand out from under his. “Never. No way in hell.”

[barbosaasouza]

Hearthstone's Che Chou on HCT Tour Stops, Global Games, Tess Greymane, and More

The 2018 Hearthstone Summer Championship has come to an end, with one winner standing above the rest. However, the Hearthstone Esports season is just getting warmed up, not only moving right along towards the Hearthstone World Championship in early 2019, but also looking to make some adjustments along the way.

Shacknews last spoke to Hearthstone Esports Franchise Leader Che Chou during the 2017 HCT World Championship weekend back in January. With the new season well underway, Shacknews returned for another round with Mr. Chou, asking about the evolution of the 2018 Hearthstone Championship Tour, the growth of the Hearthstone community, the Tess Greymane controversy, and carrying on after the departure of beloved Hearthstone Game Director Ben Brode.

Photo credits: Blizzard Entertainment

Shacknews: I enjoy this opportunity to check in on the current state of Hearthstone Esports. Last time we talked, you said that 2016 and 2017 were Hearthstone's "growing up" phase and 2018 was going to be the adolescent phase. How do you feel this adolescent phase has gone so far?

Che Chou, Hearthstone Esports Franchise Leader: In terms of adolescence, as we've all been through it, I think it could be tumultuous. So far, if you describe it as adolescence, I think it's going pretty well. A lot of the new systems that we put in place, such as Tour Stops, Masters, and the separation of Challengers and Pros, I think is going really positive and, obviously, my team and I are keeping a close eye on the balance of things and community sentiment.

To me, a couple of the standout are, one… we knew that having Tour Stops was an important component, at least for us. We felt passionate that there was a vibrant scene in competitive Hearthstone. We wanted to do more than just have them play in online cups and sit at home and play online. So we knew that we wanted to see what would happen if you brought your core contingent of your top 500 players together on this tour. And so far, what we've seen is incredible synergy and comradery, in terms of the player base coming together and sharing stories and sharing strategies, even while they're competitors at these tournaments.

The second thing is, demand has outstripped supply. Every time we open a Tour Stop qualifier sign-up, it fills up instantly. So we're monitoring conversation around topics like "Are there too many Tour Stops? Are there not enough Tour Stops?" We've heard feedback around the accessibility of Tour Stops. Some players feel like it's not a big deal. Other players feel like it's a huge deal, because they don't have the resources to travel to Grand Prix events and events that are purely offline. Those are the things that we're monitoring and, kind of like last, we are still in a "learn" phase. We are definitely looking at how things are going and we will adjust according to what's best for our community.

Shacknews: There have been quite a few Tour Stops and you've hit places like Italy and Singapore. But between these events and the Grand Prixs at different DreamHack events. What do you feel is the key to preventing event fatigue for viewers?

Chou: I'm not sure that there's viewer fatigue just yet. I do think that where we can get better is in articulating to viewers how all of it fits together in a very easy-to-understand linear progression. Because at the end of the day, these Tour Stops, qualifier events, and activities all feed into the playoffs. And for us, in terms of viewer fatigue, I don't think it's quite there today, but I do think that we can do better about stringing the stories together.

Some of that initiative is happening right now. One, shoulder content is important, so we've launched a couple of things. One is Talk Stone, a bi-weekly video podcast talk show featuring HCT talent and that is designed to help bridge the in-between Tour Stop weeks. Right now, with 24 Tour Stops this year, there's almost a live Hearthstone event every week on broadcast. Fans are hungry for it and we're seeing viewership numbers at a good place, but I think that to string it together into a narrative of this event, this event, this event, and what does it all mean and what does it mean for pro team standings, and what does it mean for top players? We wanted to get a show together to let our viewers better understand how the story fits. That's hosted by Frodan [Dan Chou, no relation], TJ [Tyler James Sanders], and ThatsAdmirable [Nathan Zamora]. So we launched that just the other week and it's doing well.

We also have a documentary series called "The Tour," which is designed to provide more of a human angle to Tour Stops and HCT. And behind the results and the wins and losses, it's a community of people and there's tons of stories there. We launched Episode 1 last week and it's gotten terrific reception. We plan on doing nine episodes for The Year of the Raven.

We're hard at work at trying to tell a better story around HCT. Oh, and also, we relaunched our website! We know that hasn't been ideal, because we have a lot of information and we need to get it out there, so the website launch was an important thing for us. That's something that will be ongoing. Every few months, we're going to release a new feature. Basically, it's going to be the home of HCT and it's going to be what we lean on to provide information that viewers will need to catch up and understand what's happening.

Finally, I'm already thinking about 2019 and 2020. All these things feed into what I want to do for next year to continue to clarify storylines for viewers. So, to answer your question, I don't think there's viewer fatigue, but I do think we can do a better job. We have a massive global grassroots program and it's a challenge pulling it all together.

Shacknews: Can you offer viewers a better idea of what's coming in "The Tour" and its next eight episodes, because one thing I've been curious about is how you feel the Hearthstone community has continued to evolve since HCT Worlds?

Chou: You might be pleasantly surprised that it is a documentary focused on HCT. The backdrop of the documentary is about the Tour Stops and the competition that's there.

But really, at the forefront... for instance, in episode one, it's a story focused set at the Taipei Tour Stop that took place last month and it is a story of how HCT has changed the lives of two people, primarily. One, obviously, is tom60229 [Chen Wei Lin], our World Champion from Taipei, and how winning the World Championship has changed his life and we illustrate that by, for instance… this is the first year that Taipei has officially recognized esports as an official sport of the country. So they had this intercollegiate championship thing with real sports and this is the first year that esports was an event there. And he was the poster boy for esports, because he won the World Championship in Hearthstone. So he was there with the president of the organization on stage, taking pictures, and giving a speech. So that's pretty awesome, because Tom's life has changed.

Meanwhile, we also focused on Jia Dee, who's an up-and-coming caster out of the Southeast Asia region. She was casting the Taipei Tour Stop, so we focused on her and how, as a molecular biology major student, how casting Hearthstone and playing Hearthstone has changed her life as well. And she gets to travel around the world, see new things, meet new people, make new friends.

It's focused on people and how Hearthstone has changed their lives and, right now, the way I see this playing out is, each episode will be a bit of a self-contained story. Episode one focused on these two people, episodes two and three are going to focus on back-to-back Tour Stops between DreamHack Austin, HCT Seoul, and DreamHack Sweden. We had crews at all three events. The next couple of episodes are going to focus on those Tour Stops and the players there, such as JustSaiyan [David Shan], Muzzy [Muzahidul Islam], and a lot of these pro players that you know. Each episode will be a little bit different. Tour Stops will be the consistent backdrop. Obviously, we'll try and tell the story of the tournament itself, but really, it's through the eyes of the people and how Hearthstone has changed their lives.

Shacknews: Moving on to the Hearthstone Global Games, the dates and rosters are set. What will set this apart from other Hearthstone competitive tournaments that we've seen?

Chou: It's our official team sport right now for Hearthstone. We've had individual competition all year round, so it'll be a good change of pace to see an all-star game where literally the best players in the world are on these country teams. And sometimes they're strange bedfellows, because they're usually on different teams in the professional world. When it comes to HGG, it's our World Cup come together. So there's going to be that interesting dynamic in that they get teamed up with people they don't necessarily expect to be teamed up with.

Secondly, this year, we've also changed it up in that we shortened the HGG season a little bit. Last year, it was 15 weeks of group play and went into Gamescom for the world finals. This year, we shortened it to about eight weeks of group play for the round of 48 to the round of 16 and we fly the top 8 out to BlizzCon this year.

It's changed and we're putting a lot more prestige and emphasis on HGG by showcasing the final at BlizzCon, but at the end of the day, I think it's going to be a refinement of what we did last year. We're also looking at the dynamic of… we've learned a lot about team Hearthstone dynamics last year, so we also want to experiment with how to present that better and make it a more interesting moment-to-moment experience.

Tess Greymane

Shacknews: There was recently some controversy regarding the timing of Hearthstone updates. Some fans weren't so happy about waiting out the Summer playoffs for the latest patch. But on top of that, there was an issue regarding a hotfix for Tess Greymane and how competitive players couldn't adjust their decks following her adjustments. What's the process in determining when an update should go live to best serve both the casual and competitive communities? And also, what type of feedback has the team received regarding what happened with Tess Greymane?

Chou: First of all, I think the response internally has been that this shouldn't happen ever. It's unacceptable and it was all-hands-on-deck in discussing how to avoid this going forward. I have nothing to announce today, but I'll just say that what happened at HCT Seoul in terms of that last-minute patch, it's a priority for Team 5 and the esports team to figure out. Because, one, it shouldn't happen. And two, we need to get to a place where the game team can do what they need to do to serve the wider Hearthstone gaming population and also, because it's a free-to-play online game that is very agile, they will be making patches all the time. We release lots of expansions and they're going to be balancing things all the time. That's just going to happen.

You also have the reality of Hearthstone Esports is a massive program with a lot of tournaments, especially with the Tour Stop system. It's going to be nearly unavoidable where we have situations with "There's a tournament next weekend and you're putting out a patch this week, so how do we balance that?" We're discussing how to get to a place where [the Tess Greymane situation] never happens again. The discussion right now is going to probably involve dev work. Again, nothing to announce formally. But I do think that this is something that we're going to have to partner closely with the game team on to solve. And it's something that we will solve in the very near future.

Shacknews: And lastly, this is the first major seasonal championship without Ben Brode. How has his departure affected the Hearthstone team as a whole and the esports team, in particular?

Chou: Ben has been the spirit animal for Hearthstone, the franchise, in general. And obviously, we all love him. But from an esports standpoint, Ben hasn't really been iconic for the esport, in my opinion, and so his departure hasn't really impacted HCT. That said, he's missed. Let's put it that way. And we all wish him the best.

The Hearthstone Esports season continues with the start of Season 2 at this weekend's HCT Italy. For more on this past weekend's Summer Championship, revisit our breakdown of the epic Shudderwock Mirror.

Hearthstone's Che Chou on HCT Tour Stops, Global Games, Tess Greymane, and More published first on https://superworldrom.tumblr.com/