#I also changed her hair to a slightly yellower shade than orange

[thefloatingstone]

I know nobody else cares about Tav screenshots but here are some screenshots of Moonstone in Act 1 because I am a little obsessed with how she looks.

[helplesslypurple77]

~AU Week: Historical AU(Fyodor/Reader)~

Summary: But to be engaged to Fyodor. A small part of you was thrilled.But a much bigger and more practical part of you was worried.

Because he had always been a perceptive man. You were in danger of him very quickly figuring out your feelings and rejecting you, or even worse simply leaving you alone to your misery. You were sure to die a metaphorical widow.

Warnings: Smut, kind of mildly dubious consent??~

Notes: ok so uh this story is set in some ambiguous country in the regency era, so that kind of fashion. Please don't look too hard at the historical inaccuracies…

Also about the midly dubious consent in the warnings. It's kinda there?? The tiniest bit?? Dub con?? Not rly, the consent is muddy?? But reader is clearly really into it. Ok so there's a slightly dub con kiss, but no ones protesting at all

...

Lady Caroline was a total bitch. She stuck her button nose in the air and scoffed at all the other ladies at the tea party with the scorn of the only child of a new money family. You sighed, never losing your perfect poker smile.

“You see,” Lady Caroline continues, never one to measure her words. “My father had sent a letter to the Duke of Silverwall. He is sure to accept my proposal, as my family is known for our exceptional breeding.” She leans close, her obnoxious bright fan fluttering. “We have sired two former queens.” 

She says the words conspiratorially as if they're a secret. As if she doesn't say it every chance she gets. You roll your eyes with a sigh. It's a bright sunny day, and several ladies are sitting around a small table filled with delicate desserts and colorful drinks. Autom has fully arrived, and the trees on Lady Cecilia’s estate are full to bursting with dry leaves. Red, oranges, and even some greens fall gently to the ground, covering the green grass with a crunchy carpet of fall colors. It's sunny, but a slight breeze floats through the air, the temperature pleasant. 

The group of ladies are dressed finely, in browns and beiges and even some bright oranges and reds. Laughter and the clatter of teacups fill the air around your table. You take a dainty bite of a small fruit pie and savor the delicious flavors on your tongue. The desserts are the only reason you come to these. And the gossip. You do love gossip.

Your brown gloved hand reaches for another tart, and Lady Caroline looks at it distastefully. 

“You’re so lucky Lady Name, I could never eat that much.” She says, her beady eyes shooting you a fake smile. She simpers, taking a sip of her tea. You sigh. Silence falls again.

Lady Caroline is an unpleasant woman, jealous and spiteful and sure of her own worth in life. And not to say anything unkind, but she’s a bitch. She puts other people down, throws her family’s newfound status around, and wears yellow. You hate the color yellow. It's unpleasant and far too cheery for such a gloomy woman.

Lady Cecilia, seated to your right, speaks up. “Well ladies, are you excited for the autumn ball?” Exited chattering fills the air at the change of topic. You shoot her a small smile. Lady Cecillia is a kind woman, with long blond hair pinned up into a fashionable updo, and pretty gold charms sprinkled throughout. Her dress is a gorgeous burgundy that compliments her blond hair and the golden accessories. Her father is a Marquess, so higher than Lady Caroline's father, a mere earl. You don't believe in status until Lady Caroline starts throwing her status around like it's something impressive. Then you are happy to flex your own high status. 

Your father is the Duke of Somerset, standing opposite Lady Caroline's ill-fated crush the Duke of Silverwall. One of the only two Dukes in the country too. Lady Caroline likes to forget that in favor of her father, a mere earl. She’s annoying. 

“Lady Name, you are to attend with your brothers right?” Lady Irina says, a breeze dancing in the cute pin curls that hang around her heart-shaped face. She’s wearing a lovely shade of deep brown, which highlights the brown pigments in her eyes. Apples and leaves and other things are embroidered throughout, catching the light in brilliant gold threads. You smile. 

“Yes, that is the plan. I have set a tailor to come tomorrow.” You say. “My brothers are all without partners this year. I cannot imagine why.” 

Lady Cecilia titters, hiding a blush behind a gloved hand. Lady Irina smiles. Lady Caroline simpers quietly behind her teacup. 

“Yes, your brothers.” Lady Caroline starts. She’s dressed in a gray-blue, pretty silver accessories scattered throughout her hair and around her neck. The dress is the only pleasant thing about her. She continues, flicking that gray fan back and forth. “I hear they are still looking for finances, is that true?” She finishes, sounding less curious and more excited to say something snide and unpleasant. Her hair is done in an undo as well, but she refused to use the popular pin curls. You were sure she thought she was too good for them. 

“Yes, that is correct.” You say, taking another lovely pie from the tray. “Although they have received several offers. Father says he is entering talks for me as well.”

The ladies at the table perk up, and Lady Caroline gets that expression on her face where she hones in on something, ready to pounce. 

“Oh, how exciting!” Lady Cecilia says, looking sweetly, genuinely excited for you. Lady Irina nods, taking a bite of a small French pastry. 

“Yes, I still remember when my fiance was chosen.” She says, getting that look on her face. Everyone knows the story of Lady Irina and her fiance. How they hated each other at first but fell madly in love soon after. You can't help the smile that carves its way across your face. Although you've heard it a thousand times, you still appreciate that Lady Irina has found someone she loves. 

Lady Irina shakes out of her daze, taking another bite of her pastry. “These pastries are simply wonderful Lady Cecilia! I must have the recipe.”

“Oh yes!” You agree. Lady Cecilia nods. “Oh course, I'll send it home with you.” The three of you trade smiles. Lady Caroline coughs.

“So Lady Name, tell me. Who are you to be engaged to? It must be a lovely viscount I'm sure.” She says, her voice dripping with insincerity. You roll your eyes so far back into your head that you fear for a moment that they might simply get stuck there. Lady Irina joins your eye roll, but Lady Cecilia frowns. She opens her mouth, ready to speak but you raise a hand as you see your coachmen coming towards you. 

Your coachman hands you a letter, the envelope a plain cream. The seal is familiar, however, your family's crest. You smile. 

“Oh, it's from my father.” The ladies around you look up curiously, Lady Caroline grinning widely. She looks thrilled, like a vulture who just landed on a large dead carcass and is about to dig in. 

“It must be news of the engagement. It seems they have completed talks already.” You say, using a butter knife to slice open the envelope. The paper inside is heavy, and your father's familiar handwriting greets your eyes as you skim. It only takes a few minutes to find the words you knew were coming, and while you personally aren't very thrilled with the outcome, you're still going to use it to your advantage. You place the letter back into the envelope, slipping it into your small purse. The three ladies look on curiously.

“Didn't go well huh?” Lady Caroline simpers. Her fake kindness makes you wince. You can barely hold in your anticipation as you start, schooling your face into a small smile. 

“They went quite well, the engagement will be announced at the autumn ball in a few days.” You say, shooting the other ladies at the table sincere smiles. Lady Caroline's face falls slightly, but she recovers startlingly fast. “Well, I'm sure he’s a lovely viscount. Who is he?” She says, smiling insincerely. You bite back a grin.

“Oh, I'm not supposed to tell yet.” You say, pretending to be worried. Lady Irina leans forward curiously. 

“Oh Lady Name please. We’re starved for gossip.” She says. Lady Cecillia nods excitedly. You give a decisive little nod. 

“Oh fine then. You ladies aren't allowed to spread this around all right?” You say, just as a precaution at this point. They all nod. You do trust Lady Cecilia and Lady Irina, but you know Lady Caroline will blab the moment she gets the name out of your mouth. You would be stupid to unknowingly tell her information. But you're sure someone will find out anyway, you don't really have anything to lose. 

You lean forward. “All right. Well im engaged to—”

“Name, it's time to leave.” your fathers familiar voice interrupts your words, and the ladies sink back in defeat. You stand, taking the small package of recipes Lady Cecilia hands you gratefully. 

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait a couple of days then.” You say with a wink. 

⚔⚔⚔

Your opinion of your fiance, the Duke of Silverwall could be better. Duke of Silverwall Fyodor Dostoeyvsky was, on the outside, a perfect fiance. He had succeeded his father at the early age of twenty, and had been running his entire estate for two years now. He was smart, handsome, and very, very wealthy. 

You’ve known the man for ages, as your fathers were good friends and you had core memories of him pulling your hair and pretending it was your younger brother Philip. He almost got away with it but your other brother Ivan tattled on him. He had been a smart boy, he was always the one who came up with the mischief the four of you got into. He was also sneaky, always subtly shifting the blame to Ivan or Phillip when you guys got caught. 

To his credit, he had never shifted the blame to you, but you were sure that one day you would have to take the fall. And while you weren't furious that he was your fiance(there were much worse options), you weren't thrilled either. Because you knew he would never love you.

You have loved him since a young age, an innocent crush that had developed into a deep love that you could never quite shake. But you knew that he simply saw you as a childhood playmate. He saw you almost as he saw your brothers, friends to go riding with, or to engage in philosophical discussions, but never as a woman. 

You still remembered when he had accidentally seen you changing a couple years ago. You had hoped for a blush or something but he had simply left, closing his eyes the entire time. Your heart had broken, and you had simply accepted that he would never see you that way. 

But to be engaged. A small part of you was thrilled. For you had dreaded seeing him with another woman for years now. You had awoken in a cold sweat from nightmares involving them dancing, kissing, or worse.

But a much bigger and more practical part of you was worried. Because he had always been a perceptive man. You were in danger of him very quickly figuring out your feelings and rejecting you, or even worse simply leaving you alone to your misery. You were sure to die a metaphorical widow. 

You did your best to convince your father, of course not mentioning any more embarrassing facts, but he was steadfast. There was simply no convincing him. So, you put your other plan into action. Convincing Fyodor.

⚔⚔⚔

“Convince your father to dissolve the engagement.” You say. Fyodor raises an eyebrow in your direction as he escorts you around an especially muddy patch on the path. You're walking in the park, down by the duck pond that's always surrounded by wildflowers and away from prying eyes. There are no wildflowers this season, the grass is covered in leaves of different colors. They crunch under your feet as the two of you speak under your breath.

“Well hello to you to, Name.” Fyodor says, chuckling in your direction. “Yes, I'm in exceptional health, thank you for asking.” 

You roll your eyes, pinching his arm beneath his white coat. You're wearing white today as well, a pretty white chiffon that hovers just far enough above the ground to avoid staining. A white fur ruff covers your shoulders. It's cloudy out today, the temperature nippy as the days before the Autumn ball shrink. The autumn ball is the day it's all irreversible. The day society becomes privy to the engagement between the two dukedoms. The day your fate is sealed.

“Can you please convince your father to dissolve the engagement, Fyodor?” You ask, your voice a whisper. Although the surroundings appear to be empty, you never know who’s servant is hiding in the bushes, on the hunt for gossip. 

Fyodor heaves out a little sigh, as the two of you turn the corner of the pond. “Why Name?” He chuckles a little. “Is it that unfortunate a fate to be my duchess?” 

It's not, in fact it's a dream. But not in this way. You dodge the question. “Well, you don't want to be engaged to me right?” You chuckle, pulling him to a stop as you stare out across the pond. A few ducks alight on its surface, ripples flying across the formerly pristine surface of the lake.

Fyodor chuckles, notably not answering your question. “But in all seriousness Name. Our fathers are quite set on this engagement, and the unification of the two families under the crown will be huge news.” He says. “Your brothers are now free to marry below their status and our substantial family resources are now pooled under one estate.” 

You frown, disliking how correct he sounds. “I know.” You say, as the two of you leave the duck pond behind. “Fine, I guess my fate is sealed then. Oh yes,” You continue, an afterthought occurring. “Come over tomorrow, the tailor's coming. Father says we need to match.” 

Fyodor gives his assent. And your fate sealed, you clutch his arm tighter and finish the rest of your walk in companionable conversation. You always have gotten along so well.

⚔⚔⚔

“Congratulations my lady.” Your head Maid Olga says, twisting your hair into a complicated style with her sure hands. Olga is a kindly older woman who has been your maid ever since you were a baby. She was your mothers maid before you. You smile at her in the mirror, applying light makeup to your face and cheeks. 

“Thank you, Olga.” You say, lightly swiping some rough on your cheeks. Your maid nods at your dress in the corner. It's a brilliant white, silver and lavender thread embroidered the length. Your family's crest, along with birds and fruits and other things. A silver tiara set with amethysts sits to your left, and Olga braids golden threads into your hair as well. You put on your silver and amethyst matching earrings as your maid speaks again.

“You’ll be able to buy a wealth of dresses, mistress.” She says, winking at you. You giggle with excitement. “I know, that's the best part.”

“And of course Mistress.” Olga leans forward, whispering the next part into your ear. “Finally get to experience the pleasures of married life.” She winks at you through the mirror, and you blush, giggling.

As much as you wish you could, you're sure he won't touch you. You had learned of those types of pleasures from the forbidden section of your parents library. You had been back there playing hooky from your math teacher, when you had stumbled on the hidden erotica section of your family's plentiful library. You hated to admit it, but you had indeed had fantasies about your fiance. Dirty fantasies that warmed your body and made a strange feeling build in your stomach. 

You were no longer a virgin. It was not such a big deal anymore, and you had lost your virginity at seventeen to the handsome butler your parents had employed for a while. And while you came with a cry you had imagined Fyodor, imagining clutching his shoulders and screaming his name to the heavens for mercy. But you knew it never was to be. You just resigned yourself to being an old maid, alone and sexless for all eternity. You sigh, and hold your gold mesh shawl close to your shoulders, heading downstairs.

You hate how handsome Fyodor looks. His long hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, strands falling around his face in a flattering way. The white suit compliments his dark hair and pale skin, the lavender and silver accents glowing under the light. He’s wearing a circlet, matching one to your large tiara. 

The coach ride is loud. Your entire family is sitting on one side, and Fyodor’s mother and father and little brother sit on the other. You're sitting next to your fiance, smashed against the wall of the carriage and his warm body and absolutely combusting. Every so often he whispers in your ear, the words hardly mattering. All you can feel is his hot breath on your neck, tickling your ear. You shiver each time and are far too excited as he helps you exit the carriage. 

You're practically vibrating with excitement as you and Fyodor stand behind the grand entrance. You're late, on purpose. For today is the announcement that seals your fate, but also the day you get to metaphorically punch Lady Catherine directly in the face. And because your fate is already sealed, you're looking forward to the pleasure Lady Catherine's shocked face will bring you. 

The grand doors open with a slam, and the chattering in the ballroom below ceases as the two men by the door announce your arrival. 

“Duke of Silverwall, and his Fiance, the Her Grace of the Somerset Dutchy.” The men shout, their voice bellowing out over the hall as you stand there, face smiling, back tall and proud. 

You start down the long staircase, your train trailing behind you, your hand on Fyodor’s steady white-clothed hand. The mix of faces below you is just as satisfied as you had hoped. Shock, some faces scream it. Others seem to say ‘i knew it’ while you receive the jealous stares of some prettily dressed ladies. Your white gown stands out among the sea of reds and browns, and the telling matching suit your fiance is wearing is also a dead giveaway. It takes a minute or two to get to the floor of the ballroom, and by then the rest of the people have turned away, and the music has resumed. Everyone still eyes you discreetly, however, and you know they're waiting to ambush you with questions and interrogations. You can't erase the grin from your face.

“You look very happy indeed my dear,” Fyodor whispers to you, as he leads you onto the dance floor. It's a waltz, a slow dainty one that you know by heart. 

“Did you see the look on Lady Cathrine’s face?” You whisper, your feet stepping the familiar pattern of the waltz you know by heart. You learned this dance with him, two teenagers being yelled at by your scary dance instructors, your first true dance as fiance’s should be this one. I'ts quite fitting after all, although your sure he's forgotten those dance classes. You try not to read into it at all.

Fyodor chuckles, leading you into a spin. The white of your gown spins around you, a cloud of spinning white and brilliant silver. You know you look stunning, a lily in your pale white among the autumn roses. The air of the ball is starting to affect you. The bright lights and the stares, jealousy and admiration alike, fill your heart, making you more tipsy, more risky than the fine wines ever could. You can feel his eyes on you, those dark, brilliant eyes. Intoxicating and luring you into their depths. You feel risky, and just the slightest bit horny. His hands are on you, around your waist, his gloved other clutching your own. Perhaps that’s why your lips are loose.

“I was so thrilled when I heard about her little crush on you.” You say, hands winding around his neck. You're closer now, closer than proper. You don't feel the stares around you. “She’s a truly unpleasant woman you know.”

Fyodor smiles, humoring you. “I have heard you say so only a thousand times my dear.” The nickname makes you dizzy with love, cheeks delightfully flustered. You pull away, bowing as the waltz ends and you come down from your strange high. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” You start. You can see Lady Cecilia and Lady Irina waving you over frantically out of the corner of your eye. “I have some catching up to do.” and then, in a moment of boldness you stand on your tiptoes, pressing a short kiss to his cheek and whirling away. You will not stand beside him long enough for him to bring it up.

⚔⚔⚔

It was a long night. When you weren't being interrogated by Cecillia and Irina you were being passive-aggressively insulted by jealous mothers, or congratulated by families, or taking a toast from the pleased queen or avoiding dance requests from other men.

The only men you dance with are your brothers, your fiance, and your very close friend, the Viscount Perry, who everyone knows is your good friend. 

You barely speak in the carriage, leaning against the window tiredly but you're wide awake as Fyodor leads you inside his castle. You forgot. Tonight was the night the two of you moved in together. You calm your face as you walk through the familiar halls, heels clicking on the marble floors. The pretty arched ceilings of the main entrance halls, the gorgeous artwork and stained glass in the main hallway, it's all very familiar scenery you know from your childhood. You would run these halls with the boys, until you were older and didn't want to dirty your dresses. You had always been a so-called ‘girly-girl’.

Your fiance has been strangely silent, and it's not until you're sitting at your new vanity, carefully stowing your earrings and tiara that he speaks.

“Who was that man you danced with?” He says, his face turned away from you as he hangs his coat. You start undoing Olga’s complicated hairstyle as you speak.

“You mean Viscount Perry? Oh he’s a good friend.” You say, scratching your scalp as your hair tumbles down around your bare shoulders. You're clothed only in your shift, and you would be flustered but you know Fyodor doesn't see you as a woman at all. You hate how it hurts you, that fact.

“So he was the reason you were so…” He pauses, a certain quality in his voice when he finishes his sentence. “…Hesitant to marry me.” The end of his sentence is nothing like you were expecting. He almost sounds, well, jealous. 

All your wasted thoughts, your sureness that he could never like you like that, all of it is breaking apart, much akin to a shattered mirror. Suddenly you can remember stuff, stuff you had missed. The fact that he had never thrown you under the bus like your brothers, his constant pestering when you were younger. And even his red ears as he exited that room, the room you were changing in. and even just the other day, as he masterfully dodged the proposition you had thrown at him, the demand you had said. ‘Ask your father to dissolve the engagement’. You're practically vibrating with joy as the revelations pour over you. He likes you, just like you like him. 

Your mind is running a mile a minute, but Fyodor, blind in his jealousy, takes your silence as an acceptance. And as you turn, you find him standing next to you, gripping your arm tightly. 

“Is that why? You love that man? You wish to marry him instead of me?” His usually immaculate poker face is gone. His eyes are narrowed, his mouth curved into a sneer, the anger and jealousy carved clear across his face. You find it dangerously attractive. Your dazed silence is again, taken as an affirmative and before you can actually get out an emphatic no, his grip slides from your wrist, and then he’s kissing you.

It's a brutal kiss, the possessive bruising of lips that ruins you inside and out, driving you mad with arousal and a strange kind of happiness. You melt into his frame, and his big hands grip your lightly clothed hips, the heat of them sinking into your skin. It heats your insides, that familiar cocktail of heat that is arousal. You love it.

“Fyodor.” You try, panting around searching kisses. “Fyodor—”. His hands get rougher, searching for purchase on your hips, hands gripping and tugging naughtily. You moan into his mouth as he sucks your tongue, naughty slurping sounds filling the walls of your chamber. He kisses to dominate, and you easily surrender control with a moan, your poor cunt clenching under your silk chemise. He channels his anger and possessiveness into the kiss, as if aiming to suck your soul and love out through your mouth so that Viscount Perry can never have them. 

“Fyodor.” you say, your voice a moan as he noses at your neck, sucking possessive hickeys into it, trailing down to the low neck of your chemise. You whimper and he chuckles.

“That's right, say my name.” Fyodor says, a hint of his accent coming thickening his words. The accent he had possessed for many years had faded four or five years ago, but never quite faded away completely, always lining his words. It sometimes became thicker when he was angry. It came back in times like these too. You whimper, gripping his dark hair in your hand, fingers weaving into the locks, tugging it gently. He chuckles against your collarbones, getting dangerously close to the neckline of your chemise, and the wealth beneath it.

“Tell me name, did that Viscount Perry ever see you like this, undone and moaning?” Fyodor says, breath ghosting across your collarbones. You shiver, moaning out a response. 

“No, oh god, of course not.” Your voice is a whimper, underlines of tight sexual tension lining all the words. He chuckles proudly against your chest, mouthing at your nipples over your chemise, leaving a wet spot behind him. 

“He never gets to see you like this.” He sounds so proud, so vindictive, so attractive. “You're my wife, never his. Mine.” The possessiveness should not turn you on, but it does, and you rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction. You want him, more than you think you’ve ever desired anyone, let alone him. 

“Fyodor,” You speak his name as a whisper, a prayer to your god, begging to feel him inside you, running you with his possessive corruption. “Oh god Fyodor, I need you so bad.” 

Your hands tear at the loose fabric of his shirt, yanking it over his head and discarding it somewhere, anywhere, you don't care. His skin is pale, thin with just a bit of muscle tone, and you mouth at his collarbones. Fyodor hair has been knocked from its neat ponytail, and it falls around his face, a sexy mess. His pale skin bruises easily and everywhere you kiss you leave a trail of red behind. You love the marks you leave upon him. He grips the silk of your chemise, yanking at the delicate fabric until it rips, falling into pieces around you. You grip his shoulders with a groan as he hoists you up, laying you on the bed. Your feet hang off the edge, your ass in the air, your toes just brushing the ground.

You feel his hand on your ass, smoothing over the cheeks until they find their way between your legs. 

“You're so wet.” Fyodor says. His voice is a tease, a taunt. And yet as his fingers spread your pussy lips and play with your clit, you can hear the pride in his voice. You grip the silk sheets in a death grip, your mouth opening in a moan, drool collecting on the sheets. Fyodor chuckles, his voice rough his arousal as he slips a finger fully inside you.

“We were always destined to be engaged, you know.” He purrs, his accent deep and thick and deliciously sexy. You love his accent, his voice, the way he twists his words, taunting you, praising you, rejoicing you. He continues with his words, scissoring his fingers inside of you as you moan into the silk sheets. “I knew you loved me, and I loved you too my darling. I thought I could be complacent, I could await the days when we would be married. And yet, you were stolen from me.”

The anger in his words, combined with the thick fingers scissoring your hole open, drive you nearly insane. But you're still able to process the words. He knew you loved him, and he loved you in return. You were destined, predetermined by fate. Your heart clenches with joy, even as the walls of your pussy clenched around his fingers. He chuckles, a light slap hitting your ass. 

“A mere viscount has stolen your affection.” Fyodor’s words are low, angry, possessive. He accompanies it with a slap, a harsher one on your pussy. You whine as he removes his fingers. 

“Oh god Fyodor, want you. Fuck me!” The profanities are not befitting of a lady, but you could care less. The man behind you, the man you have loved for years and years, has informed you he loves you back, and he is reducing you to aroused tears on the mattress you will sleep on for the rest of your life together. You want him, want his hot cock ruining you, draining away the rest of your sanity.

“You beg for me.” Fyodor says, the statement full of pride and arousal, and thick with that accent. “You beg for me over this viscount. And I shall obey your every command, my wife.” The sentence is whispered, almost reverent, and full of so much awe and yet equally measured with arousal that you nearly lose it right there. You're a mess, panting and quivering on the mattress and as his hot cock penetrates your insides you cum with a cry on the mattress.

Your walls clench, your hands gripping the silk until it crumples, your cries muffled in the silk of the sheets. Fyodor shelves himself inside you in one fluid stroke, his cock bullying your walls apart with equal parts pain and pleasure. You're soaking wet, your arousal dripping out of your pussy and soaking a ring on your thighs, but Fyodor is big, biggest you’ve ever taken by far, and tick to. 

It takes a while for the orgasm to subside, but Fyodor gives you no rest, fucking your through the overstimulation reletlessly as you moan his name helplessly, hands still tangled in the sheets. 

“You're such a pretty slut for me.” Fyodor coos the praises leaking into your ears as the pleasure returns, as you move back and forth on the mattress, your toes just brushing the ground. He leans over your prone back, balls slapping your ass with each hard thrust inside of you. The words are degrading, the word ‘slut’ not befitting of a lady, but you love it. You love the way he says it, the possessive nature of the words, ‘for me’. That's right, you're his slut, his slut forever. His wife.

You can feel another orgasm welling up, and you cry it into the spit-soaked sheets beneath you. Fyodor returns the cry with the same words, the promise that you’ll come together. And as you reach your peak, as you tumble over the cliff with your soon to be husband right behind you, you let the words slip past your kiss-swollen lips. 

“Oh, I love you, Fyodor.” You moan, as you fall over the edge. His hips stutter, his cock filling you up one more time as he hears the words, the words he was longing to hear so desperately. And he returns them, whispered in your ear as if they are forbidden. 

“I love you, my darling,” Fyodor says, flipping you over and shoving his cock right back into your hole, the squelching sounds of his cum and your arousal mixing as he fucks it deeper inside you.

...

Endnotes:

whenever i write au’s the characters tend to run away so sorry if this is ooc. Also man, Fyodor and Ranpo are so annoying to write because their a little like all knowing gods…so they always end up a little more dumb in my fics, or maybe dumb to emotions

Dazai’s a little easier because he actively acts like a dumbass all the time

[peaches2217]

how do you personally envision Mario and Peach (and/or others)? Like if you could draw them, how would they look? Physique? Significant height differences? Super poofy dress for Peach? Hairy arms and body for Mario? (Already know the answer to this ;)) I know you’re a fan of chubby Peach, but what does your mind picture when writing them?? 🤔

This got long and has visual aids aplenty, so Mareach body and outfit headcanons below the cut!

First up, body headcanons! The closest I could find to how I envision Mario is this ridiculously handsome man named Louis Kwong Jr.: fat but muscular, overall stout build, and, of course, an abundance of body hair, because I’m not weird about that at all.

I had to thumb through bear porn just to find what I was looking for. Consequently, that means this dude’s dick is on the internet for all to see, so exercise caution if you look him up.

For Peach, I take inspiration from the absolutely stunning Kristine Thompson. She’s tall, she’s curvaceous, and she’s the picture of elegance and feminine confidence. I hc Peach’s chest being a little smaller, but still generally large.

Height-wise, I put them at 5’1 and 6’, which would put the top of Mario’s head right about at shoulder level with Peach; she typically wears kitten heels and he wears work boots with thick soles, so that difference doesn’t change much based on whether they’re wearing shoes or not. Size-wise, they’re both somewhere in the realm of 200+lb, though Mario is larger and heavier than Peach since he’s so much shorter, and since he’s got as much muscle as he does fat.

I couldn’t figure out how to change the colors, lest I would’ve made them red and pink. I wish there was an option to tailor the weights too, ‘cause this just looks weird 😭

As far as clothing goes, Peach is all about dresses, the longer and flowier, the better! She enjoys miniskirts and will wear pants or shorts when it’s more practical, but maxi dresses are what makes her heart sing loudest. She opts for Big and Poofy when going about her business in the castle or for formal occasions/ceremonies and looser, simpler offerings like sundresses when going casual. She’ll wear darker colors every once in a blue moon, but she loves bright, cheerful colors most of all, pink and white and orange and yellow and the likes.

That last one miiiiight be AI, but it came from a photoset that was clearly an actual human modeling the actual dress, so I’m fairly certain it’s just heavily airbrushed. If I’m in the wrong then I’ll happily find a replacement!

Hair! I’m a Curly Haired Mario truther myself. The curls I picture him with tend to fall between 3a and 3c, depending on who you ask, but this is the closest visual representation I’ve found to my vision (just in a lighter shade of brown):

Peach’s hair is very long, very thick, and slightly wavy (somewhere between 1c and 2a). She enjoys brushing and pampering it with products, but the only way she gets it to stay in place is via her magic (which also keeps her makeup perfect, no matter how many wringers she’s put through on any given day). It puffs up considerably when it’s humid.

I was gonna include more character appearance headcanons as a bonus, but Tumblr keeps screaming at me for adding so many images to a single post, so if there’s any more y’all are curious about, ask away and I’ll give them their own posts!

[riacte]

Been reading dearly beloathed (and thoroughly enjoying it mind you) (the GC screenies chat loves Reina btw) and I’m genuinely so curious as to how you imagine their superhero fits/ them in general. Obvs tachy has his angler fish get up but what about Balefire and the rest :0 do you have any designs or descriptions or just ideas for the characters designs :D?

Hi thanks for reading and glad you like it! Quick Picrews from this link:

(Left to right, top to bottom: Lyra, Ben, Archie, Reina, Cora, Balefire/Uma)

Then my art: Uma with various shadow blobs, Lyra + Ben (part of this larger piece with their OC predecessors)

More detailed descriptions:

Balefire: brown skin, shoulder length black hair, brown eyes, thick eyebrows, strong nose, has a prominent glare (at least, from Tach’s pov). Slightly shorter than average. Fairly well built. Has a black scar on her chest from Tach. Likes wearing yellow. I haven’t quite decided on her hero costume but it’s black + reddish orange and has flame motifs. She probably added some phoenix motifs after her reappearance. (She didn’t start off with them.)

Tachythanatous: was obnoxiously into emo culture as a teen (belt buckles, straps, studded pads, metal chains, etc). Anglerfish inspired helmet with a dangly light that changes colours. The dangly light has a practical purpose of providing a light source in case he’s trapped in complete darkness as his shadows cannot appear. (Think Pride from Fullmetal Alchemist.) Sometimes he makes the light multicoloured so he can vibe to Caramelldansen. Dressed in black + dark blue. Probably has platform boots for the heck of it. Has a swishy cape because he’s dramatic. Surprisingly skinny (his suit is well padded for protection). He doesn’t have much strength as he heavily relies on his speed and his shadows. Without his speed and shadows, Bale can easily punt him into the sky while he goes “YIPPPPPEEEEEeeeeeeeeee 💫”.

Tach is usually in his suit. If he’s not, he’s covering up his skin with long sleeves + pants. When Bale stayed with him, sometimes Tach was too lazy to suit up so he would just walk out with a big black rectangle covering his body like a glitch in the matrix. Like imagine a stressed out Balefire with a headache coping with a complete 180 of the status quo waiting for the kettle to boil and then this floating black rectangle ominously enters into the kitchen like 🧍 “morning nemesis”.

Lyra: light skin, straight black hair with blue highlights, black eyes. Puts on hair clips and likes wearing her hair in a braid (she’s been growing out her hair for a while). Has a stoic resting face so people used to be intimidated by her until they learn she’s just a shivering pathetic wet cat. Her ears turn red when she blushes. Tall and lanky. Doesn’t like to show her legs and wears trousers and long skirts. Wears blue, grey, black, and yellow.

Ben: tan skin, short cropped hair, big brown eyes. A bit scrawny. Dresses like a tour guide at a marine park (orange shirt, cargo pants). Likes clothes with pockets despite owning a pocket dimension. (Maybe it’s his brand?) He’s clumsy and falls over like a piece of toast.

Archie: fair skin, wispy blond hair, watery blue eyes. Wears glasses. Likes vests and jackets. Wears in shades of green, beige, and brown. He tends to layer clothes and wear clothes made with different materials to practice his superpower of phasing through matter (one of his fears is phasing through a wall but leaving his clothes behind). Also wears accessories such as watches, hats, and chains to train his powers. Has a stocky build but born with a weak constitution.

Reina: fair skin, long straight blond hair to her back, brown eyes, short and stout. She later dyes her bangs black. Wears black and shades of pink (in particular magenta). Likes alt fashion (short skirts, corsets, platform boots). Occasionally wears plum / dark lipstick.

Cora: dark brown skin, shoulder length curls, dark brown eyes. Medium build, average height. When she’s in class, she wears a doctor’s coat. Dresses in shades of purple, green, and white. Her family wants her to dress “demurely” but her actual taste is more casual. Wore more androgynous clothes but leaning towards more feminine clothing lately. Occasionally wears silver eyeliner.

All of the kids can afford whatever they want to wear because the gov pays them to go to hero school. They’re rich kiddos lol.

These are the tentative designs I have of the main cast. Everyone else is more vague lmao

Arcus/Kai: brown hair, brown skin, well built. Has weather manipulation powers so his suit is probably sapphire blue with bits of dark grey

Cinder/Lillian: short hair in a bob, “mousy”, wears glasses, doe eyes, was weak and scrawny during her Academy years. Suit is a mellow yellow with white.

Moxie/Mona: black hair, black eyes. She looks lively and mischievous.

Sentinel/Milo: he’s like your fun uncle at BBQs. Probably wears his hair in a messy ponytail. Suit is maroon probably.

Harrison: brown hair, handsome, photogenic (which Ben complains about in his inner monologue)

Esme: freckled skin, sharp eyes, brown hair in two long braids

Here’s some art I drew of Bale and Tach :)

Also glad your gc likes Reina :D yes yes this is good info to me for plot reasons…. :)

Thanks for the ask <3

[quibbs126]

So I’ve been wanting to draw out Ceres’ beta designs for a bit now, and today I finally did that

Admittedly I probably should have drawn more than just top half sketches, but whatever

They come from this page I have saved from the art book

She has a couple others, but the picture I had on my iPad was just these five, so that’s what I did. I do like the other ones though

And now because I want to, I’m just going to talk about my thoughts on each design. It’s also why I numbered them, since they’re all Ceres, so I can’t really refer to them by other names

So let's start with 1. On the drawing side, I admit I think she ended up having a case of "being the first one drawn". You know, she's got that weirdness to her look. But anyways, back to her design in general. I really like her hair, I think it's cool looking and it's got a unique color pallet. But her outfit is literally just one of beta Velvet's outfits, so if that had been her final outfit, it would not have been that subtle who she's connected to. Even if Velvet had her final outfit, it still looks incredibly similar to hers

I do find it interesting that she's the only one to have the yellow Demon eyes, while all the rest have her normal pink. I imagine they changed it to pink to be more creative, but it is the only one different. Generally, I assume that with these concepts, they had bases of the characters already made that they put the outfits and hair on. Cherry/Plum and then Reno also have the same unchanging skin and eye colors and unchanging horns (Velvet is also the same but her eyes get to change colors). I get why they did that, but it does personally leave me wanting to see Ceres concepts where she had different horn shapes or skin tones, or even eye colors. But we don't see it, and I was trying to stay faithful to the original concepts, so oh well

Moving on to 2, I don't think her outfit's half bad, but it's still pretty Velvet-like. And her hair straight up just looks like Velvet's but with different bangs, and orange highlights instead of her pink. And personally, I just think that's kind of boring in all honesty

Now on to 3 (I don't have a tangent to go on this time). I quite like her design honestly, and when I was looking at the art before drawing, she gave me this vibe I really liked, but I don't know if I really translated into my drawing. I don't really know how to describe it other than her feeling slightly younger? But anyways yeah, I think her design's pretty neat. It's still somewhat Velvet, but it's getting unique to the point that wouldn't really be your first guess. I also originally was wondering why her hair had pink/red, since Menos doesn't have any but his other kid does, but then I realized her hair colors are Menos' blue but in Velvet's purple's shade, and then her pink comes from Velvet's pink, but with the Demon vibrancy and brightness, and I just think that's neat

Moving on to 4, something that strikes me as interesting is her hair color. It's wildly different from the others I've seen, being dark red/brown and then with gold streaks. Though honestly, I couldn't tell you where she gets it from, since her parents have pretty much only cool colors, outside of Velvet's pink, which isn't that much of a warm color. Though we do see that beta Velvets had brown, or at least warmer hair color pallets, so maybe that's where she gets it from? I don't know but I find it interesting. I also do think her design's pretty cool, and is quite unique looking. My main gripe with it is how the top bit is shortened so much. For whatever reason, in basically every other Ceres outfit design other than her final, she has to be showing off her midriff, and I really don't see why. Is it just because Velvet does it? But regardless, I feel like this is the design where it's at its most unnecessary. Like just have it extend to her waist, it'd make more sense that way. But yeah, she's interesting

And then we come to 5. I think her outfit's pretty neat, I like her pant sash thing she's got going on, and I think her shirt fits with it (though I again don't know if it needs to be a crop top). I think it's one of my favorites, and it's probably the least Velvet-esque. I also find it interesting how her hair seems the most human here, not having much spikiness at all, as well as being generally less saturated. I feel like by proxy, it has her looking the most like a mix between Demon and Human. Though admittedly, with it just being out and flat, it may not be the best to animate, especially since almost all of Ceres' scenes are in 3D. Maybe if it were in a braid or something? And also I'm a little irked that the colors are just her normal ones but more desaturated, but oh well. By that point they were likely still figuring out her color scheme, so I'm looking at it from the wrong way

Also this is random, but I want to point this out, 4 and 5 aren't wearing boots, but rather shoes. I only point this out because every main character wears boots in this game, with the exception of Menos, but you can barely tell given his pants are the exact same color

Also as I'm typing all this out I realize, Ceres was very clearly designed to be Velvet's kid, but her dad basically doesn't factor in at all in these designs outside of the hair colors and spikiness. Menos is basically just the Demon genes donor. Poor guy

Anyways yeah, that's my thoughts on these beta designs. Honestly, I want to try and take parts from each (or make up parts) to try and make an alternate Ceres design I like

But also then I realize, what would be the point of that? She already has an official, final design, and it's not like this is going to change that or how I draw canon her. Why am I even judging the beta designs in the first place? They're just concept art, and things that for whatever reason, didn't end up being incorporated into her final design. And the game came out 9 years ago, what's the point of rating old designs from an obscure game made likely over a decade ago?

I don't really know, but I also feel like furthering this line of thinking would lead me to questioning why I'm so invested in concept art and designs in the first place, since similar questions still apply

I mean sure, people can use concept art to make something new out of things, like how the CRK fandom basically made Rich Cheese into a character despite her officially just being a scrapped concept, or how people have basically made a new Wish story out of the stuff from the concepts, but here I feel like there's literally no point

I don't know, but I should probably stop now

Take these drawings I suppose, while I try not to think about questioning my life's priorities

[brawlstars-dragon-au]

please talk abour shelly and colt for. 5 hours thankiyiu

You got it! A long bundle of Shelly and Colt HCs/info in my AU (as well as ship HCs at the bottom as well 🛐).

Shelly:

Her attacks consist of a medium range solid fire breath. With enough charge, she can release a more explosive breath that shreds through walls as well. A regular shot is more orange, but her "super" is a lighter blue with a tint of purple.

Under her bandaid, she has a little scar from her younger days.

Her classic yellow bandana is a gift from her parents. She's gained quite a few over the years!

She was once part of a gang that was decently well known in the Wild West areas of the Park. They had taken her under their wings and cared for her from a young age. It disbanded after a few successful years (By this time, she was considered about 20 for humans), leaving Shelly to wander alone until situating herself in the quiet-ish life of the main town.

During her time in this gang, her coat colours were not as bright and were mostly light purples leaning to shades of grey and black.

She has a black cat named Starlight! She's very small but she loves her a lot 💛 she sometimes sits in her bandana as she does casual errands. Sometimes they have the exact sma expressions and it's kinda silly hehe

Colt:

The gold star on his back, as well as his tails, are dyed. (This fact may change in the future, as I want to give Colt a slight redesign.)

Colt's attacks consist of different bursts of fire that he breathes out. He usually attacks with a quick bursts of flames that go a far range, with a strong red flame on them. Stronger Super attacks lean to an almost pinkish orange colour. A small detail I want to expand on is that some brawlers' hair (pr another part) will actually turn slightly elemental-like when using what we consider as a super in the regular game. Colt's hair will become similar to a flame when he uses his supercharged flame blast.

His scar on his chin came from a heist back when he was still part of his mom's gang. He scraped it when falling to the ground. He once took pride with it, as it looked just like the one his father had. Now, it's more of an upsetting reminder of the life he left behind.

Additionally, back when he was in the gang, he dyed his hair and wings black to differ himself from his mother (which had a very bold red coat and feathers.) Similarly to Shelly, his colours were simply shades of dark blue and grey, apart from the red that shone through.

Colt's feathers are his pride and joy. You'll never catch anyone touching them, let alone preening (the act of cleaning feathers with birds, this also applies to dragons). The only acceptions are for those he trusts very much. Some examples are Shelly and Pam (Belle was once allowed, but in current times she is definitely not. Family drama!!!)

He left the gang during his late teens after conflicting ideals and issues that had been festering for years.

A bit after, Colt gets taken in by Pam, who welcomes him into the family. Cause of this, he is an honorary Junker ❤️

Colt's actually supposed to be very fluffy, but he sheers off a good chunk of his fur to give the appearance of a "vest" rather than a full fluffy hide. This trait is from his dad.

Finally, some classic Sholt - it's getting a bit long, so I'll add a read more here:

Years ago, while they were still in their gangs, they did interact a few times. Nothing too huge, let alone friendship, but a mutual respect for each other. They almost didn't recognise each other when interacting again as adults.

Colt fell first, Shelly fell harder.

Shelly is one of the few who has seen Colt during his molting period. She brought him snacks and made sure he knew she would still love him even if he thought he looked like some balding hatchling. I actually have an old fanfic for this. Might post it sometime!

When they nap together, Shelly will rest her head just above his wing, using the fluffy fur almost like a pillow. Colt will then rest his head on hers.

Colt's ways of showing affection vary so much, with all coming right from the heart. He gives words of affirmation with flirts and compliments. He'll put on grand displays of affection through small songs or even a little dance. He'll bring gifts that remind him of Shelly (can range from a new bandana he thinks she'd like, or simple trinkets and items that remind him of her).

On the other hand, Shelly's prefers to express her affection through actions. She would not hesitate to protect him in brawls and assures him that she's happy with him (leaning into the subtle insecurity at the heart of Colt's pride).

Shelly asked him out first officially. Colt had asked a few times before, but they were sort of casual and not direct enough. Shelly made that first step to directly say, "Do you wanna go on a date together?"

^ Colt probably sat there in shock for a few minutes /pos. Of course, he agreed! They've been happy ever since <3

In the future (or perhaps in a divergent au/future with fankids), they have a daughter named Shea. She's a lovely ruby red colour, with wing feathers a light lilac colour at the ends. She attacks similarly to Shelly, using stronger mid range attacks. Her attacks do seem to carry just a bit of electric magic/power in it, but that's only noticed when she's older. 🤭

There we go! That's a few of the headcanons I've got for these two. I do wanna flesh out their story in my au, as the past with the gangs really do give a lot to think of... but that'll come much much later when I at least have more designs for the AU 😭😭 Thank you for the ask! It was a pleasure writing this out! ✨️

[catmaidetho]

crow's danger days au design party

hi! to celebrate reaching 200 followers, i'm hosting a design party for my life series danger days au!

what's that mean? beneath the readmore on this post will be a set of written descriptions for the cast of the au. anyone who wants can then draw what they think those characters look like!

do i have to draw all of them? nope! only do the ones you want!

is there a time-limit on this? also no! whenever you've got the time to do it, go for it!

what even is danger days? IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED! danger days is the 4th (and final) studio album by american rock band my chemical romance! it was a concept album, which can be seen in the music videos for nanana and sing. there's also a tie-in comic book series, danger days california. so if you're struggling for inspiration, i suggest watching those music videos or taking a look at the aesthetic of the comic!

if you're participating, please @ me in your finished pieces! :D

characters

these are the main characters featured in my current wip---the extended cast (as well as some picrews/art i've done of some of them) are in this google drive here. go nuts!! :D

Etho (they/them) Etho is a tall, lanky androgyne, and the tallest in their crew. They have unnaturally white hair with dirty blond roots that they keep longer on the top and shaved close on the sides. Their eyes are an unsettlingly dark shade of brown, bordering on black. They wear a black tank top, dark gray camo-patterned cargo pants (the pockets are full of wires and plastic scrap), well-worn black combat boots, and a heavy green jacket that reaches their thighs. They also wear fingerless leather gloves, protective goggles, and a tool belt that their raygun and other extra tools hang from. They wear a black gas mask on the bottom half of their face nearly 24/7.

Small Beans (he/him) Small Beans is considerably shorter than Etho, and the shortest in his crew. He has half-brown, half-green hair that is unkempt at best and a rat's nest at worst. His eyes are a dull green. He wears a black bleach-dyed t-shirt, ill-fitting and ripped light-wash blue jeans, brown work boots with yellow laces, and a vibrant pink leather jacket with spikes on the shoulders and a myriad of patches. He often steals Etho's leather gloves when they aren't looking, although does own a pair of their own fingerless gloves that have been painted with hand bones.

The Scar (he/him) The Scar is slightly shorter than Etho, and somehow manages to be quite buff. He has well-kept, short brown hair. His eyes are deep green. He has more scars on his skin than can be counted, mostly healed sunburns and raygun shots. Before he joined Etho's crew, he was often seen wearing burgundy slacks and a white, short-sleeved button up shirt. After joining Etho's crew, his outfit completely changed to a skin-tight, short-sleeve black shirt with a triangle cut-out on his chest, black leather pants, surprisingly well kept black boots with mismatched orange and teal laces, and a half-orange-half-teal windbreaker. He is the only member of the crew to never lose his sunglasses.

Pesky Bird (he/she) Pesky Bird is somewhat taller than Small Beans. He has a decently-kept mop of blond hair. Her eyes are rich, chocolate brown. He wears a white t-shirt, straight-fit blue jeans, boots that may have been black once but are heavily faded by the sun and wear, and a bright red leather motorcross jacket with a large patch on the back of parrot wings. She also has a matching biker helmet.

the extended cast can be found in this google drive!

[socialistexan]

You have a lot of shinies now, so what's your top 5 fave shinies, top 5 better coloring than original, and top 5 worst looking ones ?

Sorry I took so long to answer this, I actually had to think about this for a couple days to really have a good answer. I hope y'all don't mind a long post because I want to explain my picks a little. I'll include links to the shiny in the list under the cut

5 favorite shinies:

Growlithe/Arcanine: This has been my favorite shiny since Gen 3 made their shiny not awful, and I finally got one in 19 eggs in SV! It's also one of my favorite pokemon.

Mimikyu: This might be unpopular and maybe (second) favorite pokemon bias, but adore the grey-scale of this shiny. I feel like it emulates the feel of the Gen 1 sprites, and it would make sense that Mimikyu, which wanted to be loved like Pikachu, would model itself after the original way it looked.

Umbreon: This might shock some people, because Sylveon is my favorite pokemon, but this is my favorite shiny Eeveelution. It just looks so cool! The blue stripes replacing the yellow is just so good. It just communicates cool Moon-inspired pokemon to me.

Rockruff: Another of my favorite pokemon that has an amazing shiny. It's a blue puppy! What's not to love? The shade of blue is also fantastic, just super cute. (can you tell I like blue shinies)

Gourgeist: We love a goth queen, tbh.

Honorable mentions: Mareep, Kantonian Ninetails, Galarian Zigzagoon-line (trans rights), Toucannon (bi rights), Sylveon (I only slightly prefer the original, still amazing), Sandygeist, Unovan Zorua, the Tapus

5 better than the original:

Wooloo: the reversed black and white just looks so good, I can't do it justice. Just a home run of a shiny.

Crobat: Bias because Zubat was my first shiny ever in Gen 2 (including the red Gyarados, I think). Also I just think it looks cool as hell. I got one in Sun and named her Babs because she looks like Batgirl with the pink and green scheme.

Camerupt: Talk about a major improvement! It's original design is... fine, like volcano camel, got it. The shiny just out shines (no pun intended) it in every way. The black and yellow work so well together, and while it doesn't scream "fire camel" it just looks so good.

Beautifly: Huge upgrade, imo. Looks super artistic, like a stained glass mosaic. Absolutely gorgeous, and it really pops compared to the original. Also, trans rights

Charizard: Wee-woo Genwunner alert! I might be biased, because Charmander was my original starter almost 25 years ago and remains one of my favorite Pokemon to this day. I still remember my original Charizard (MZ, no idea why I named it that I was 7), and when I saw it's shiny (in gen 3 when they fixed it) I knew I had to have one because it is just so dang cool.

5 Worse than the original: (excluding the obvious ones that are barely different than the originals)

Absol: I don't hate this shiny or anything, I just think the original Absol is a near perfect design. It does a great job of looking foreboding and kinda ominous, but the shiny doesn't quite do that.

Volcarona: It just feels like the colors on this shiny were picked randomly and both don't go together and look bad on this design. Serious downgrade all around, more negative points because I really like Volcarona

Primarina: This is one of my 5 favorite pokemon of all time, but this shiny makes me almost want to cry. I understand changing the "hair" from blue to blonde to try to like imitate the look of a traditional mermaid, but the change to the rest of the accents to that like pale yellow(?) is just bad. Primarina was a near perfect design, but the shiny is bad.

Snubbull: You would think I would like this because of the blue dominance on a dog pokemon, but it's just ugly to me. The Pink and blue-spot combo works for me on the original, but the reverse hurts my eyes. ALSO WHY ARE THE FEET ORANGE?!

Bruxish: One of my least favorite pokemon and just a terrible shiny. Colors feel totally random.

[little-mouse-gardens]

Character introduction: Wei Xiurong

after a couple weeks of planning and editing, I have finally fished the character intro for my character Wei Xiurong!

(None of the images in the mood-board belong to me, I used Makowka's picrew for the face claim while the images were found on Pinterest)

-

   Wei Xiurong - 魏秀榮

          東方的大母老虎

 (The great tigress of the east)

Name:  Wei Xiurong 

Age:  5000+, (immortal) appears to be in her early thirties 

Sex/Gender: female, she/her 

Sexuality: biromantic + demisexual

Species: half demon (human/demon)

Voiceclaim: Elizabeth Maxwell 

Occupation: guards and protects a temple filled with powerful items/weapons to be made and used by the gods

Education: extensive. Over the thousands of years she has been alive she has gained extensive knowledge and adapted to the times. 

Eye color: reddish brown eyes 

Skin color: warm ivory 

Hair color: black with accents of dark brown when the sun illuminates it. She usually keeps her hair slicked back into a bun, but she will occasionally wear it down and curl it. 

Height: 5’5

Weight: 132lbs

Fitness level: very active. She never skips an early morning jog and always takes an hour or two out of her day to train and workout.

Tattoos: none

Scars/Birthmarks:

a few scars on her back and hands, a long scar that goes across her chest, and a long scar down her cheek that she hides with a bit of glamor. 

Though these are barely visible, if you get close enough, you can see what look to be tiger stripes going down her back and arms.

On the front of her right hand is a marking of a tiger roaring, which symbolizes her inner beast and the bloodline she comes from.

Other distinguishing features: 

her eyes have a bit of an amber tint to them if you look close enough. 

Disabilities: none 

-

Fashion style:

 At first, she wore traditional Tang dynasty clothing, but her style also changed with the times. 

Most of her style in modern times consists of tweed vests, leather jackets, flats, knee high boots, cardigans, tights, turtlenecks, cheongsam, blouses, slightly flared trousers, sundresses, sun hats, loose t-shirts.

The main colors she wears are all shades of red, pinks, golds, oranges and yellows.

Through the centuries a lot of the same motifs remain in her clothing and accessories.  Specifically, tigers (or other big cats like lions and leopards), flowers like yellow lilies & cineraria, and symbols that represent family, kindness and strength.

Accessories:

Gemstone Earrings, in shades of red, gold and orange.

A jade bangle her husband gave to her as a wedding gift. (it is the most important item in the world to her)

A gold pendent given to her by her daughters as a birthday present.

Signature weapon(s): her main weapon is a pair of deer horn knives, and her secondary weapon is Jian, a double-edged sword that had once belonged to her grandmother on her father's side.

-

  Weaknesses: threatening the safety of her family. If she knows the enemy is more powerful than her or she can’t readily protect her family, that is the easiest way to get her to stand down and surrender.

 Though it is extremely difficult, you can eventually exhaust her. It will take a while, but she will eventually need to rest.

Abilities : 

Immense strength/speed/agility/senses 

Immortality - gained immortality after she ate a few peaches of immortality and drank some heavenly wine as a reward for bringing a rampaging demon back to the gods to be imprisoned. As a result, she became ageless and yielded eternal youth. 

Shapeshifting - the ability to change into any creature she wants.

the only way you can really tell it is her is by looking at the color of the creature's eyes or the very subtle presence of stripes on its body. 

Claws - a set of claws she can retract/unretract at will. They are extremely sharp and have been known to cut through the toughest of metals. 

Spirit-walking - whenever she falls asleep, she can choose to separate her spirit from her body and transform it into the physical form of a large tiger. However, this differs from the inner beast since she can’t do this when she is awake, and this tiger is only slightly bigger than a normal sized tiger.

However, if you get hurt in this form, your body will also sustain the same injuries and vis versa. So, caution is key in this fragile state.

Pyrokinesis - the ability to manipulate fire. 

Clairvoyance - The Ability to Perceive Person, Object, Location, And Physical Events Through Extrasensory Perception.

Line of sight - Xiurong can see, hear, smell and sense things much better than the average person can.

if she closes her eyes, in any form she takes, she can follow the colorful outline/ trail of her target(s) and see/feel things that others normally cannot. 

Energy Blasts - the Ability to Expel Various Forms of Energy from The Body

Chi manipulation - manipulate the flow of latent energy that is present in the physical body.

Energy Conversion - the Ability to Absorb One Form of Energy and Convert It into Another Form of Energy

Roar - the ability to let out a destructive stream or a destructive wave of sonic energy that sounds similar to a tiger roaring and can destroy anything in front of the user unless they turn around. 

         The inner beast - by combining all her energy, she can turn herself into a colossal tiger that can cause catastrophic amounts of destruction.  It does have a secondary form which is stronger and larger than its usual form.

Attaining this secondary form is extremely dangerous and could risk being consumed by their beast completely.

-

  Birth date: her exact date of birth is unknown. Her children, grandchildren and her children's spouses only know that she was born sometime in early february. So they just pick a random day in february.

Place of birth: a small village hidden in a valley in the mountains

Affiliations:

She is affiliated with both demons and immortals, but prefers to be among demons and humans rather than immortal beings and gods. 

She has a much closer bond with the demons she allied herself with and the humans she protected. She only has a few immortal beings she could or would ever consider to be her friends. 

Plus she personally thinks some of the immortals and gods are a bit snobbish and undeserving of their positions (though she never voiced it out loud)

Skeletons in the closet: 

Kept her youngest daughter, xifeng, birth a secret from her older daughters since there are demons out there who would find out about xifeng and would want to eat her for revenge. 

However, in the sequel little tiger, when xifeng discovered her abilities and sought out her family after mk discovered the staff, the secret was revealed anyway. 

!!Spoilers for lmk season 4!! Please scroll past if you don’t want spoilers!!

In the sequel to great beasts, little tiger, her daughter xifeng discovers that xiurong knew everything about mk being a stone monkey and she had also watched over him in the same form when she would be allowed to leave the celestial realm.

Personality traits:

-caring, open-minded, cunning, trustworthy, generous, loving, motherly, brave

-commanding, strong willed, good-natured, leaderly, dutiful, patient, merciful

-vicious + assertive + aggressive + vengeful (when she needs to be)  

Introvert/Extrovert: 

extrovert 

Intelligence + educational background : 

highly intelligent. 

  As a child she was tutored by her mother and grandmother and was given a complete and extensive education. Through the years she has adapted to the times and learned everything she could learn through studying and researching.

She has a vast source of knowledge to say the least after decades of being alive.

Self-esteem: she is fairly confident in herself and knows her own self worth. 

However,  There are some days she feels as if she hasn’t done enough for her family or feels like she should have done something to prevent her husband's death. 

Hobbies/Skills/talents

Archery

Cross stitching/embroidery 

Research/studying

Calligraphy

Martial arts

hiking/exploring 

tarot/fortune telling 

Gardening

pottery

Reading 

crafts/woodworking/metalworking 

Forethought 

Observation 

Knowledge of basic wilderness survival skills 

Balance

Immense combat skills - she has centuries of training and experience when it comes to martial arts and fighting in general. 

Immense physical attributes 

Astrological divination/reading people

leadership/strategic thinking/peacekeeping/negotiating 

Strong breath control 

Loves:

-Her family, spending time with her family, 

-Scented candles (mostly natural scents like pine needles or fruits)

-animals/wildlife/forests/mountains 

-training, martial arts

-mid-spring, early summer

- fishing & camping, traveling,

-sewing, embroidery, knitting,

-sitting in her garden and relaxing by the lakefront 

- reading

-solar eclipses, the sun, sunsets 

- cooking 

- colors/ red, orange, yellow, gold 

- movies/ comedy, adventure, horror

-book/ mystery, fantasy 

-animals/ tigers, lions, dogs, cats, monkeys, wolves, horses, ect.

-specific food+drinks/ traditional dishes, green tea, sweet tea/iced tea, lemonade, butterfly pea flower bubble tea, soy milk, mooncakes, egg tarts, peking duck, mangos & durian, steamed stuffed buns, glazed chocolate donuts, any kind of seafood

-holidays/social events/festivals/dragon boat festival, lunar new year, mid-autumn festival 

  Phobias/Fears:

Losing her family or being unable to protect them. After losing her husband and the incidents that come after her daughters are all grown up, this fear has become deeply ingrained into her and is her biggest weakness overall. 

 Venomous creatures. due to an incident she when her daughters were around fifteen.

Angered by: 

     Xiurong is a surprisingly patient person. It is really hard to piss her off. She can get angry, but it isn’t her true anger showing. 

     you really have to dig deep in order to find what really makes her go into ‘i will eviscerate you and paint my walls with your blood’ mode. 

 aka The kind of anger that's got you fearing for your very soul.

    Basically anything that is a threat to her family, hurting her family, cruelty to the innocent, people who have complete disregard for life in general, being backstabbed after giving somebody a chance to redeem themselves. 

   These are the things that will get you killed.

Pet peeves: 

Once again, she is a very patient person, however she also has limits.

-people who can’t admit their wrong doings 

-men who would constantly speak over women

-People who say "no offense" as if it downplays anything insulting they say

-passive aggressive behavior.

-parents who are to lazy to watch their own children 

Bad habits:

Neglecting her own needs for the sake of others and hiding her pain from others so she doesn’t worry anyone. 

Desires/goals :

To see her family happy and thriving, to give them the freedom to make their own choices and to give them everything the world has to offer them 

Flaws:

Neglecting her own needs for the sake of her family, hiding her sadness for their fathers death from her kids so they don’t worry about her. 

Keeping things from them so they don’t have to worry about her at all. 

Favorite saying: 

To love at all is to love entirely

Regrets:

Keeping xinfeng’s birth a secret from her sisters 

Not visiting an old childhood friend after moving back to her village with her mother when her training was officially complete 

Spiriting mk away from flower fruit mountain 

Accomplishments:

Mastering her abilities and unlocking her inner beast 

gaining immortality from the gods for not just herself, but her daughters and descendants as well

Proving herself, through hard work and determination, worthy to sit among the seven demon kings

Marrying her husband zheng liu 

The birth of her daughters 

Killing the demon that murdered her father and her husband 

Securing a comfy position among the immortals

Motivations:

 Generally keeping her family safe and showing others that their family were and always will be a force to be reckoned with 

-

  Partner(s)/Significant other(s):

Zheng Liu (husband, deceased) = a human man who had moved into the valley after being casted out by his family.

He was and will always be the love of her life. Her best friend and her partner in crime. A cheerful kind man who had a fondness for nature and was just a tad bit clumsy when it came to things like wielding a sword or archery. 

Xiurong loved him so much. No words could ever describe the love she held for him

Sadly, the day she found out she was pregnant, he was killed in cold blood by another demon. 

His death was absolutely devastating for her.

Even as the years went on, she never seemed to truly get over losing him. She learned to go on living and actually enjoy life and be happy, however there was that bit of sadness she hid deep within her.

Cai Zhaohui (fiancé + reincarnation of Liu, deceased) = 

(btw most of this info comes from the sequel i’m working on called little tiger)

xiurong met zhaohui when she was moving into a new apartment in a megapolis.

 He was funny, awkward, a little bit nervous, nerdy, and was just a genuinely nice guy to be around.

 At first they started off as friends for the first couple years. Just hanging out, inviting each other over to binge watch shows they liked if they felt lonely. Until she slowly started falling for him. 

(fun fact : she did reveal who she was to him and was shocked to find he was completely fine with her being a half demon. To the point he was even a bit excited)

She never thought she would feel that way for anyone else ever since Liu died and was a bit hesitant to try to return his feelings due to the fact that she felt guilty about moving on with someone else.

 However, she eventually realized that she really needed to move on with her life and started going out with him. 

 After three years of being a couple, they were engaged and a few months after that she found out she was pregnant.

(during her pregnancy they both found out he was the reincarnation of her husband. However it didn’t really change their relationship) 

  However, due to certain events, she is imprisoned, and her fiancé is left to raise their daughter by himself. He knew that she was watching over them and always reminded their daughter how much her mother loves her. 

 Lover(s): none 

Parents/Guardians:

Wei Meng (father, deceased) - though he died when she was only two weeks old, she still looks up to him and loves him. 

According to old scrolls he left for xiurong and stories from her mother and other demons that he was a very loving and courageous man who ultimately died so xiurong and her mother could live.

He came from a long bloodline of powerful demons known as the wei family, which were demons who could turn themselves into a colossal beast based on the animal marking they were born with. 

Pan Shuchun (mother, deceased) - Xiurong was extremely close to her mother. A hardworking and kind woman who refused to give up even in the darkest moments. 

Her mother taught her everything she knew and showed her that in order for her to rise, she must fall. She wanted Xiurong to have everything and always let Xiurong know that she was proud of her and loved her.

Her mother took over the position as leader of their village when xiurong was around a few months old and was a strong and capable leader for many years. All the while she tenderly and lovingly cared for xiurong, vowing that she would do anything and everything to give her the best life a child could have. 

Zhu Ning (grandmother, deceased) - Xiurong was close to her grandmother as well, but not as close as she was to her mother. Her grandmother was tough as nails and an excellent leader to their village. 

though she always had trouble properly expressing it, she truly loved her daughter and granddaughter with every fiber of her being. 

Her fondest memories of her grandmother would be all the stories she would tell her before she would go to bed. Stories of gods and demons that would play out in her mind's eye as she drifted off to sleep at the sound of her grandmother's calming voice.

Children:

Triplets =  Wei Chuntao (alive) + Wei Rong (alive) + Wei qiaolian (alive) - she is very close with her three daughters. They are the most precious people in the world to her and she was willing to do anything to make them happy and keep them safe. No words can truly describe how much she loves her kids.

She wanted them to have the freedom to make their own choices and experience all that life has to offer them, even if it meant dealing with the sadness of letting them go. 

 Due to certain events that happen in the sequel, xiurong is unable to visit her daughters and can only watch over them from her celestial prison. When she was allowed to leave her prison, she would visit each of her daughters in the form of a creature.

She would do whatever it took to be there for her daughters.

Wei Xifeng (alive, born in the sequel, little tiger) = once again, her kids are the most precious things in the world to her. So, she loved her youngest from the moment her tiny hand grasped her finger.

Unfortunately, two months after giving birth to her, due to certain events that happen, Xiurong is forced to watch her little one grows up from afar. Only able to leave her celestial prison in the form of a creature for short periods of time to spend time with her.           

  She watches over her continuously. Doing whatever she can do to be there for her daughter. To show her that she loves her and that she is always there watching over her and supporting her.

Grandparents:

Zhu Ning (grandmother, deceased)

Pan gen (grandfather, deceased) = never got to meet her grandfather and she is glad she didn’t. 

According to those who knew him and met him, her grandfather was an extremely selfish and volatile man. He was extremely abusive to her mother and grandmother and was just a terrible leader in general since he refused to help fix any of the problems plaguing the village.

In order to keep them safe and to end his cruelty towards the villagers and their family, her grandmother murdered him. The village turned a blind eye to it and were more than ready to accept Zhu Ning as the new leader. 

Grandchildren:

Oooh boy…. folks this woman has A LOT of grandchildren. 

 i’m going to go in order from oldest to youngest and list their parents after. 

In total xiurong has seventeen grandkids!

Sun Tian - (Chuntao + sun wukong)

Sun Lihua Ruolan - (Chuntao + sun wukong)

Wei Baozhai - (Qiaolian + spider queen)

Sun Yunru - (Chuntao + sun wukong) 

Wei Chen + Wei Xiaohu - (Rong + macaque) 

Sun Qingshan - (Chuntao + sun wukong )

Wei Shanyuan - (rong + macaque) 

Wei Qiqiang - (Qiaolian + spider queen)

Wei Xingjuan - (Qiaolian + spider queen)

Sun Luohu + Sun jidu - (chuntao + sun wukong)

Sun Wenqian jiayi - (chuntao + sun wukong)

Sun yubei xing - (chuntao + sun wukong)

Wei liu (nicknamed savage) + Wei ju (nicknamed rumble) - (rong + macaque) 

Wei Bai he - (rong + macaque)

 She also has two great grandchildren. 

 1. Wei Chen Xue - (Wei Xiaohu)

 2. Sun Junjie - (Sun tian) 

        Xiurong adores her grandchildren and great grandchildren. She knows each one of their likes, dislikes and little quirks by memory and She was actually there to witness most of her grandchildren's births, all except for bai he.

 She was imprisoned way before bai he was born. however, when she was able to leave her prison, she would always pay visits to her granddaughter. 

In-laws 

She is on pretty good terms with each of her children's spouses. Treating them with the same amount of care, concern and kindness that she gives her own daughters. 

They are her family, and she cares about them. 

However, she would not be afraid to snap their necks if they hurt her daughters.

Sun wukong (son in law, alive) 

Six eared Macaque (son in law, alive) 

Spider queen (daughter in law, alive??) 

 Pets: 

  A demon cat she lovingly named Heng (still alive)   

Best friends/friends :

- Baigujing   …weird? Seems this one is hard to recall? Wonder why?

-the demon bull family, including the demon bull king 

- the other demon kings (the azure lion, the golden winged eagle, the yellow toothed elephant, flood dragon king, the macaque king, marmoset king)

-Erlang Shen, Nezha, chang'e, the dragon kings (Ao Guang, Ao run, Ao qin, Ao shun). These are the only immortal beings she is on truly good terms with. 

Xiurong generally gets along with everyone, but these people are the only ones she has close friendships with.

Rivals:

The demon bull family

The azure lion, the golden winged eagle, the yellow toothed elephant 

Generally, most demons who want to try and test her. 

Enemies:

 only those who seek to hurt or have hurt her family or friends. Other than She doesn’t really have any specific enemies.

Mentors/Teachers: 

Master Guo Xiang - a river demon who trained her father, his mother, and his mother's father etc. She considered him to be a father figure and trained with him for years until she had a firm grasp on her abilities and was now ready to return and take her mother's place as leader. 

Public perception of them:

Perceptions differed among groups. Everyone had their opinions of her, but there was no doubt she made an impact.

Among demons she was both feared and revered. Many demons thought of her as the epitome of success. something they wanted to try and be.

Someone they looked to ally themselves with because of her generosity and her willingness to look out for her allies' best interests. 

However, she was also a target. There were, and still are many that have and want to challenge her. Defeating her would boost their status and their power among demons and no one wants to miss an opportunity to take down the great tigress and her children. 

Among gods and immortals, it was a mix of respect and fear of the devastating destruction she could cause. 

Respect because of her hard work and ability to guard the powerful objects in her care. She did her job well and made it a note to always show proper respect to those in power (even if she internally thought some of them didn’t deserve it)

And fear because of the amount of damage she and her children could cause if she ever used her inner beast again.  

The entire reason the gods and immortals gave her such a comfy position (not with the highest ranks but not close to the lower ranks) was because they had seen what her inner beast was capable of. She could topple them if they set her off.

Most of them were fucking terrified of what she and her children were capable of and were not thrilled at the prospect of angering such a powerful creature. 

So they saw it better to get her on their side than to be in her way

Among humans she was fairly well received.

Sure, there were a few who saw her as a vicious demon, but most saw her as a guardian and another heroic figure. 

She was dedicated to protecting and helping humans. 

Most continue to honor her and tell stories about her acts of goodwill and the battles she had fought to keep people safe. 

In the sequel little tiger, Xifeng actually visits the town that was located inside of her mother's valley and attends a small festival that was made in honor of her mother. 

-

Thats pretty much it! I'm currently working on Chuntao's right now and hopefully that should also be out soon!

[no-droids]

Home

gif credit: @javier-pena

Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.5K

Warnings: SMUT, religion kink (maybe?), squirting, consensual stalking/pursuing, canon-typical violence, mention of underage drinking, uhh I believe that’s it but as always, let me know if I’ve forgotten anything please!

A/N: Hey yall!!!  So I know this chapter has been a long time coming and though I’m not completely satisfied with it, I hope it brings a little happiness to you for an hour or two while you read!  School has been kicking my ass and I’ve been in a bit of an emotional slump recently, but I pulled a few all-nighters to post this on time and it’s finally finished!  Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me and sent me encouraging words over the past month or so, I hope you enjoy the end of the Sanctuary arc💕

Also like last time, part 2 of my collaboration with @followwhereshegoes will be posted after the chapter!!  As a reminder, sweet girl is a reader insert and every imagining of her will be different—this is Lisa’s interpretation of her and her artwork is absolutely gorgeous, so please go give her a follow!

Day 5–11:13am:

You zone out again in the early morning, but that happens a lot.  Din always keeps you up so late, all the time, and without any caf here, the rising sun just makes your eyes droop instead of flutter brighter and wider.  You helped a bunch of younglings find their way into their robes when it was still dark out, tying sashes and fitting masks while holding back your yawns.  The walk into Nariss is close to three hours, probably more with all these tiny little legs, and you almost forget to change into your new digs before everyone grabs breakfast.

Even though your ragtag entourage leaves for Nariss just as soon as everyone finishes eating, you don’t reach the city until nearly lunchtime.  Mostly because the kids walk about as fast as the elderly holy women chaperoning the trip.  You and Naydee lag behind the group, forcing yourself to meander slow as fuck when you nearly sprinted this same exact path just a few days ago.  On the way there, you listen to children of all sorts sing happily as they walk, chatter about their excitement for the parade, complain about wearing the fabric mask they made themselves, and more than once, somebody takes a tumble onto the ground and is left in teary sniffles and dirt stained clothes.  Likely for this reason, the robes are designed to be two pieces—a long tunic with a hood and a separate pants portion to prevent tripping instead of a draping skirt, but the smallest ones are clumsy and find a way to fall anyways.

It’s a colorful bunch—a chaotic rainbow of babies running around, and you share easy conversation with your new friend about the plans for the day until she asks something that makes you nearly trip and join the dirty robe club.

“Sister Drya said your family is meeting you in the city,” she tells you, ignoring your immediate subtle toe stub and the awkward shuffle you have to do to make up for it.  “There’s going to be lots of people downtown, I’m worried it might be hard for them to find you.”

Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel a bit short of breath at being abruptly confronted with the need to lie, but at the same time, you kind of love it.  Having a secret, hiding the truth from others, and just the reminder that you’re almost guaranteed to see Din and the baby before midnight pours warmth and tingles through your tummy.  Everything together is a hit of spice, filling you with a kind of excitement that used to be foreign to you.  Having fun, experiencing new things isn’t quite over yet, but home is calling and you miss it with every fiber of your being.

“I don’t think so,” you eventually respond, hoping she can see your kind smile and the sentiment it carries even as light, shimmery fabric wraps right around your mouth.  “If I disappear, you’ll know why.”

Naydee’s eyes crinkle in the corners to match yours.  “Hopefully you’ll be able to see the fireworks first,” she nudges you, her skin glowing against the pale cream fabric she has wrapped around her own mouth and the hood laying delicately over her braids.  “They start at eight.”

The fireworks, you almost forgot.  You know what?  Today is a good day.  You hear yourself think the full sentence multiple times, and the words put a spring in your step after every single one.  The road gradually becomes wider and filled with more travelers, and you feel safe in the back.  Like some kind of sheepdog bringing up the rear of this migrating cluster of children, making sure none of them drift off by themselves and start eating grass or something.

Surprisingly, the kids manage to be relatively patient and well-behaved once they’re in line at the gates.  The Sisters shuffle them along one by one as everyone moves up slowly, taking even longer to get into the city than it did a few days ago.  The entrance is packed already—so many people visiting for the festival, and they’re all dressed in costumes or robes of sorts, or at least a mask.  Most are beautifully crafted, but some manage to look slightly scary even with the soft springtime color schemes.  It’s a completely different world, a different life for each person as you pass them by.  Your stomach is starting to growl by the time you finally make it to the front, and luckily the guards just let the kids through without any ceremony.  Just you and the rest of the caretakers in light robes need to hold still for the retinal scan, matching each other perfectly except for differing shades of fabric, skin, and eye color.  Once the gates open for you and you step through, though… it’s… Maker.

Extravagant, magnificent are both words.  Floral is another.

It’s like they hung up bouquets wherever they could think to fit them, and this is just the edge of the city.  As the group moves through the streets and closer to downtown, it becomes more and more overwhelming.  The air itself is a warm fragrance wafting all around you, sunshiney and breezy and perfect, flowers of all kinds lining the modern buildings and archways like they were planted there from the very beginning and it just took this long to bloom between the cracks in the concrete.  You wish you had names for all of them so you could list them—the only thing you can offer is the color and vague descriptions of the ones that stick out to you.  Tiny yellow ones that are so small, they need to be bunched all together in massive quantities to even resemble normal flowers.  Up overhead, elaborate arrangements of enormous blue and purple and pink ones, wrapping around each other and hanging down from rooftops.  Some don’t even have petals, it’s like they’re big green cups that are big enough to hold things inside them.  You’re fascinated by every single one, wanting to stop and smell them all individually but needing to keep up with the large group and not allow any stragglers to be left behind, including yourself.

About an hour later, when you’re almost in the middle of the city and there are people everywhere, it’s time to eat lunch.  There isn’t much to it because of how expensive it is, and you’d normally feel bad for accepting the small meal each one of the children gets, but you donated all of your credits to the Keja and left absolutely zero for yourself.  Good intentions, terrible idea.  Still, you pull your mask down and snack on some deliciously fried food, trying not to eye anyone else’s platter after you finish yours.  It’s so good and it’s gone in an instant; you couldn’t even say what exactly it was besides which stall you got it at.  Whether it’s just the brilliant atmosphere or if the food on this moon is really just that good, you’re not really sure, but you’re still slightly hungry afterwards with no extra money to sneak a snack.

Soon after, the kids all line up to get their faces painted, or whatever portion of their face is visible behind the cloth masks and hoods they’ve got on, and music blares from at least four different directions and none of the songs are even in the same language.  Depending on the part of town, it seems like the celebrations are all different.  It makes sense, considering most if not all of these individuals were victims of the Empire’s wrath, spread far and wide across the galaxy.  Here, they’re free, and they want everyone to know it.  Spring festivals of some sort are likely common for most cultures, at least those from planets with seasons, not like Arvala-7 where it was arid and hot year-round, and you’re assuming there are multiple things being celebrated today depending on which street you live on.  There’s chanting in different tongues, dancing and drums, outfits and masks from different cultures every single time you look.

At some point, the children spot a crowded street with flowery rails set up all along them, and you stand behind the tiny heads while everyone waits for the parade to begin.  You think your heart has just been beating slightly faster than normal all day today, but when you finally hear the sound of sirens blaring in the distance and cheers begin to pour out from the gathered crowd, it kicks up and you feel like you’re just as wide eyed at the spectacle as the waist-high babies all huddled together up against the railing.

A flurry of people and things pass in slow succession.  First, New Republic officers with their blaring holobikes, bright orange as always.  Then come large groups of people walking behind banners in languages you can’t read, some of them waving, some of them making different sounds and songs.  Bands marching in formation, dancers in dresses and masks and gorgeous flowers in their hair like crowns, and then brilliant hovering vehicles decorated in bright colors and festive depictions.  The craftsmanship and cultural significance is stunning to witness, it’s so insanely loud, there’s so much going on, and yet…

Through it all, you think of Din.  No matter the faces, the sights you see.  There’s someone juggling.  There’s either a very tall man and woman walking together or they’re both on stilts.  There are enormous balloons being led through the air, people are riding atop an assortment of animals you’ve never seen before, there are traditional costumes and spectacular stunts being performed.  Stalls with games and prizes line the stretches of concrete on the cross streets, people are laughing and celebrating and drinking in equal parts, everything is so lively and festive and fun, and yet, though it all, you think of Din.  Him and the baby, they’re always in the forefront of your mind, occupying your thoughts and making your tummy stir more and more as the time passes like the parade in front of you.  You don’t think this environment would ever be his favorite, and in some far away galaxy, perhaps if you lived other lives together and called a beautiful moon exactly like this home, then you might have to drag him out to see all the with you and the kid every year.  You’d have to bat your eyelashes and kiss his cheek and snuggle up to him all nice and pretty like, and he’d probably grumble and complain about it while wrapping his arms around you—all the people and the noise, sweet girl—but he’d go.  For you, he’d go.

Your thoughts suddenly stop short and you blink for a second.  Why… Why was that scene so vivid?  So wistful?  You used to preoccupy yourself with fantasies about Din all the time, back before you even knew him as Din.  But in every single one, it was sexual and likely came from a place of boredom, a lack of external stimulation.  Here you are amidst bustling surroundings, and you’re daydreaming about domesticity with him.  Why?  You want to travel the galaxy, right?  You want to see things you’ve never seen before, right?

For some reason, you think of the floor, and you miss it.

***

Day 5—5:04pm:

It’s late afternoon at this point and nobody can find the teens.

More people have made their way into the city and it’s starting to get extremely fucking crowded, especially where you are downtown, and the handful of them must’ve slipped away with all the excitement happening and how difficult it is to keep the young ones together now that the parade is over.  You don’t know how long they’ve been gone—one second they were walking around just slightly detached from the rest of you, you assumed because the boisterous younglings fucked with their cool vibe, and then the next Naydee is gasping out to you that they’re gone.

“Sister Drya is going to kill me,” she hisses, her dark eyebrows furrowed in self-admonishment and stress.  So many fucking people here, you know her pain.  “I was supposed to be chaperoning them, they were just here—”

She shakes her head under the loose, cream-colored hood, groaning and then speeding up her gait to catch up with the woman in charge, but you decide to grab her wrist before she can relay the bad news.  

“I can go find them,” you offer, speaking as low as you can with the blaring noise surrounding you.  “Before anyone knows they’re missing.  Is there a way to convince everybody to stay in one spot for a little while?  You won’t get in trouble, but I need to know how to find you again.”

Naydee’s eyes widen in surprise, and even though it’s likely a bit out of character for you, you have a feeling it’ll be a deceptively easy task.  Even with the masses right now and how atrociously big this city is, you already have a general idea of where they’re likely to be.  Besides, you’re not even sure your absence will be noticed if Naydee is the only one who figured out the teens were gone—the other Sisters can thrive without you while missing anyone else would be noticeable, and you owe your new friend a thousand favors for helping you out these past few days.  The least you can do is save her from the scolding of one of the scariest old ladies you've ever met.

“Be as quick as you can,” she finally agrees.  It’s a lot of trust to put into you, but you’ve had experience in reading the most unreadable man in the entire galaxy, some teenagers shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.  “If you’re not back in thirty minutes or somebody notices, I’ll have to say something.”

You nod, silently breaking away from the group without another word.  You think you can hear her announce to everyone that it might be best to eat dinner now to skip any long lines later—smart—but you’re out of their hearing range and line of sight almost immediately.

***

Day 5–5:17pm:

“Really?”  You raise an eyebrow since they won’t be able to see the way your mouth is twisted up underneath your mask, crossing your arms and tapping your foot against the ground to further illustrate just how not fucking impressed you are.

Seven teenagers freeze, and slowly—depending on how much bravery they can individually muster—they turn around on their stools to face you.  The atmosphere in the tavern is bustling and cheery, booze being passed around a large crowd that laughs and mingles, but your vibe is stone cold and quiet.  The contrast doesn’t feel wrong on you like it normally would; the negative and disapproving energy you’re emitting makes you feel powerful, untouchable, armored and strong.

“How did you find us so fast?”  One of the twin boys squeaks out behind a light blue robe, sounding worried.

“Had a hunch,” you grumble, glaring sternly at each of them in turn.  Your tone is dry, your voice sits lower in your throat when you’re pissed off.  All you had to do was look for the closest bar that doesn’t have any orange jumpsuits poking around waiting to card underage younglings, it wasn’t that difficult.  “You’re not exactly unpredictable.”

“Are you gonna rat us out?”  The other twin asks you, in a voice that’s oddly deep compared to his brother.

“I should,” you snap, quickly reaching out to push their drinks away.  “I should let Sister Drya rain down her holy fury on your asses, got good people all twisted up over you for nothing and I’m missing dinn—”

You don’t know why, but you suddenly cut yourself off and jerk upright, spinning around.

The sounds of glasses clinking and boisterous voices fill the bar, but they seem to fade out for a second.  Your eyes fly around the crowded space, your heart lodged in your throat and looking for anything reflective.  Every flash you see is a false alarm—belt buckle, wristwatch, cocktail shaker—

He’s here… isn’t he?

Only, there’s nothing.  Nothing is out of place, nothing jumps out at you the way you’re assuming it will.  You’re braced taut and ready to bolt at the first sign of a chase, but it never comes.

It’s so… unexpected, this feeling.  It’s not like you’re being hunted anymore, but instead, you’re the hunter.  You’re feeling the weight of him from this far away and it’s like he’s calling for you to come find him, teasing the wild adrenaline rush you get from just feeling his presence, as if he absolutely knows it happens.  Whispering soft in your ear and then vanishing the second you’re able to turn around, like he’s here but he’s not.  Playing with you from so far away.

This… this is a taunt.  

The whole thing at the inn was leagues below this, that was rudimentary.  Teasing, getting even, having fun with each other, whatever you want to call that, that’s what it was.  This is scarily sophisticated.  Fluid and practiced and the best kind of frightening, stark and dangerous compared to the carefree and upbeat setting surrounding you.  You’re not making it up, it’s not just you being paranoid.  You know him with your eyes closed.  You know he’s here somewhere watching you, just like you know the starlight that streaks across the pitch black horizon of hyperspace.  Not because you can see it, not really, not directly.  But because by it, even in the vastest and darkest and emptiest of voids, you’re suddenly able to see everything else.

“You okay, Nerida?”

The volume gradually comes back up and you blink, suddenly remembering where you are, who else is with you.  The chatter becomes slightly louder than it seemed before.

“Yeah,” you eventually say, slightly airy while continuing to stare emptily at the crowded room.  He’s not here, you don’t think, not anymore at least.  But you’re not stupid, you know what this means.  You’re already caught, there’s nothing you can conceivably do that will delay the reunion for the next—you look down and pull the loose sleeve up to check your communicator—seven fucking hours, there’s no way.  He’ll pull back and follow you, keep up with you from a distance and then snatch you away right when you let your guard down.  You at least need to get the kids back to their guardians before that can happen, though.

“Let’s go,” you quietly tell the group of foundlings, grabbing elbows and hauling them out of their stools.  “Naydee was the only one who knew that you were gone when I left.  Here’s to hoping she managed to keep it that way.”

***

Day 5–5:32pm:

Against all odds, you’re able to rally the wayward teens and successfully lead them through shoulders that are beginning to move closer together as the crowd grows and grows.  You stay towards the back and don’t look behind you once—not only do you not want to give the younglings an unnecessary reason to become paranoid or to question your actions, but you can still feel Din lingering.  Moving like a shadow, probably fitting in perfectly with the masked festival-goers, nothing drawing any attention to him with all the spectacular sights and noise occurring.

Soon you return to the same spot from before, and you and the teenagers seamlessly integrate yourselves back into the rest of the group without anyone noticing a thing is out of place.  When you move to stand beside her, Naydee’s bone-deep sigh of relief is palpable even behind the concealing fabric; she squeezes your hand incredibly tight in a silent gesture of thanks, and then pulls something from the deep pockets of her robe and passes it to you sneakily.  A purple fruit.  She must’ve saved it for you.

Maker, fuck yes.  It’s not much but it’s more dinner than any of the seven troublemakers get, but Naydee quietly assures you they’ll be able to eat something once they return to the Keja around midnight, just not the tasty expensive treats they’re selling at the vendors.  As the sun goes down, you try not to stain your pretty fabric a deep maroon as you chomp and feel your lips start to curl upwards.  It sounds so fucking stupid when you put it like this, but you keep going back to Din and revelling in knowing that he’s so close, like you’re just mentally checking in on him.  You don’t get the sensation by thinking, though—more like you just focus really hard on your heart and feel him there just a second afterwards.

Is that how pure, stupid, shameless love feels when you’re completely entrenched in it?  It’s not like it’s surrounding you, it’s not suffocating you or making you float.  It’s just a thing.  Like… a thing inside your chest, a physical thing you can search for and find, something you can point to on your body and say it’s right here, this is where my love for him lives.  Right at the bottom of your heart, right where it curves and beats strong when other hearts meet flat at sharp angles.  You do it over and over again, reconfirming its existence every single time.  You don’t know what else you’d call it.  Love is the only word.  To love, to know.  To hold in the heart.

Soon, you start to notice that people are slowly moving around your stationary group.  You look up and watch the crowd begin to walk, some of them giving soft smiles to the cute children as they pass by, but all of them following the same unspoken direction.

“Where is everyone going?”  You ask Naydee, standing on your tiptoes to watch the crowd migrate like a giant system, an organism or mechanism of thousands (or tens of thousands?) of smaller moving parts all traveling in tandem.  It’s fascinating—you’ve been to crowded places, you know what it looks like when a lot of people are packed into one area, but you’ve never seen what it looks like when they all move together.  They would normally be bumping into each other, slipping in between, fighting and never really getting anywhere, interacting individually and thinking separately.  Now they’re progressing in one single direction, so many with the same mindset and understanding of what comes next.  A second parade, almost, with New Republic officers directing the flow of pedestrians as they pass.

“The eastern part of the city!”  Naydee yells over the noise and points, and beyond her extended finger, you can barely see the light of a dusky body of water in the distance beyond the buildings.  “The fireworks are going to go off over the bay, but it takes awhile to get there!”

“Is…”  You blink for a second, suddenly caught off guard, trying to think back to the holomap the concierge pulled up at the front desk of the inn.  Surely you would’ve noticed it, but your sudden childlike hope makes you ask anyway.  “Is it part of an ocean?”

Naydee shakes her head.  “A really big lake!”

Your shoulders drop just the slightest bit in disappointment but still, you ache to see it.  You can’t even imagine—the fireworks are likely going to reflect across the water, giving everyone double the view.  And luckily, after all the children and caretakers are individually accounted for, you start to behind the slow-moving crowd towards the docks you know lie beyond.  

Naydee scurries ahead to keep the kids together, ushering them forward and preventing any drunk passer-bys from accidentally stepping on them, and you quietly bring up the very rear of the entourage.  You take the time to observe more than anything, walk in the back and experience instead of trailblaze.  So many people, so many stories to be told, so many differences and diversity around you.  Your face is partially concealed and you don’t move your head too much, just your eyes.  They flick around to take in everything, the crowd thinning little by little as you make it out of the confined space downtown.  You’re able to make out full bodies and outfits again instead of just heads and shoulders, allowing you to breathe just a bit easier under your mask.

And then at one point—and it’s almost a little startling because it happens all at once—the organizers must decide that the sun has officially gone down, because the lights come on.  All of a sudden, paper lanterns and bulbs flicker into existence all around you and the world decides it wants to glow, glint and twinkle from the inside out.  They’re everywhere, draping across rooftops and tangled around street signs and stuffed into the flower bouquets overhead, raining soft colors down on everything.  You’re in complete awe, trying to keep walking but also needing to look at as much as fucking possible in the suddenly luminescent city.  It’s so colorful, so vernal and warm and you feel like you’re… Like when you took a shower on the Crest for the first time and spent a few happy moments just playing with the water and soap for your own enjoyment, it’s as if all the brilliant rainbow of colors the bubbles would make under the fluorescent light decided to surround you at the same time.  You’re inside stained glass, blinking at the flowers and wondering if Din can even smell the air or if it’s filtered, processed and reduced to nothing under the helmet.

And that’s when you see him.

But with the way your chest rapidly constricts and you can count your heart beats as they pound, blaring white noise through your ears and adrenaline through your veins, it’s like he's just allowing it to happen.  You immediately understand that you don’t have fucking anything the second your eyes land on him; this isn’t a heads up that you caught wind of early, it’s not a gift or an advantage you’ve incidentally gained over him that you should be thankful for.  Being able to see him directly like this, being able to make out all these fucking details from this far away…  This just feels like you’re being informed of the endgame right before it comes.  If you were anyone else, if you were a real bounty and this was a real hunt, his armor glinting and reflecting the lanterns overhead would feel like a knife you're about to be on the wrong side of.

You have a decision to make, very quickly.  Either keep in this same direction, head straight towards him and just pretend like you are who you’re dressed as, a random caretaker for a bunch of rowdy foundlings during a spring festival on Nariss, or disappear.  Drop back, move through the crowd and use the distance you have between you right now as your only hope of getting away in time.  Neither one gives you a particular advantage—your chances of being caught have already skyrocketed exponentially just being able to see the reflection in his armor, the hovering shield at his side with big black eyes… staring directly at you.

You almost trip over your pantlegs, gasping.  Baby.  He beams at you and you think he calls out through the passing crowd, his tiny arms extending out, and your chest feels like you’re pulling organs as if they were muscles, cramping up and seizing with emotion.  You want to run to them even though you’re meant to be running from them, call out over the noise and wave even though you’re not supposed to.  You want to hold the kid again, squish his little forehead with kisses, walk around with Din’s hand pressed against your lower back and see the fireworks with him.

Your hands clutch at the draping fabric covering your chest, pulling and twisting it uncertainly.  What do you do, what do you do?

No matter what, you know it’s over.  Keep your head down and try to move past him, or break away from your group and try to escape—both are different paths that lead to the same result.  What’s the point of running when he’s the one chasing you?  The heart-pounding thrill is the only reason you’re even considering it, but his body stands so tall amongst the crowd, not moving while people ebb and flow like a river passing around him.

Except then you can hear his voice repeat the last thing he said to you in person as if he says it directly into the comm in your ear.  When you do see me… try to outrun.

You should run—run, it’s better than just hoping he doesn’t see you when you already know he does.

Unless…

Out of a trillion different possibilities, you soon realize that there is exactly one situation in which this could turn out in your favor.  You can immediately picture the scenario in your mind, but there’s just too many variables to conceivably rely on getting them all right.  This maybe has a… two percent chance of working?  Maybe?  Everything would have to go perfectly, just fucking flawlessly, but what other choice do you have?  Two percent is better than whatever odds you’re dealing with now.

You walk silently behind the group of foundlings as you approach closer and closer, keeping your head purposefully down as they skip and giggle and dance ahead.  He knows you’re here—he has to know, you’re counting on him knowing.  Walk right in front of him, pretend like you don’t see, make sure you keep left.  Keep left, keep left, keep your head down, keep your head down—

A leather glove suddenly catches hold of your wrist hard enough to tug you backwards.

Your gasp is audible over the sound of the crowd and you spin around, jerking your head up to look at him in fear.  Your heart slams as the beskar reflects your mask and hood back at you—you’re terrified and it shows, you can see it in your eyes.

You quickly try to yank your hand away, even as your index finger stretches up towards the communicator around his wrist.

“Miss Nerida?”  A child’s voice cries, and then small hands grab at you from behind as you bury the urge to actually fight him.  Your instincts are demanding you attack when his grip is this strong, but you just whine and struggle, slapping weakly at him with your free hand and feeling more of the younglings begin to pull at you, their high pitched voices calling more and more attention to the scene.

Your gaze flicks to the side, suddenly landing on a pair of New Republic officers helping direct the thousands of moving bodies from the closest street corner.  They’re looking at you, pointing and beginning to speak into their own comm units.  Din’s helmet snaps sideways to follow your gaze, and then he’s immediately dropping your wrist and stepping back, retreating as quickly as he caught you.  Though you don’t want to—though you don’t want to give yourself away even more, you want to pretend fully that he was a complete stranger and the children were right to try to help you get away—your eyes fall to your son in the hovering crib by his side and you feel yourself crumble just a bit.

Just a few more hours, kid.  A few more hours.

Children pull you away while your pursuers both disappear into the crowd, and you quickly turn to soothe the tiny babies instead of chasing after the one you miss so terribly.

“I’m alright,” you tell them, scooting them up and encouraging them to continue walking.  Blend in, blend in, don’t let anybody think anything is wrong.  “Come on, we’re fine, come on, we have to catch up.”

They take your lead as soon as one of the caretakers turns around and sees the small group crowding around you.  You think she asks what happened, but you just tell her a man mistook you for someone else and nothing more comes of it.  She’s able to settle the chaos better than you are, and by the time you’re continuing to travel forwards once more like nothing happened, the communicator suddenly flicks on in your ear.

“What did you do?”  He breathes out, his footsteps moving fast through his voice.  He’s traveling much quicker than you expected—is he still being followed?  The officers are gone from your sight, they might be going after him right now, weaving between bodies and calling out to the perpetually vanishing glint of armor as he navigates his way out of danger.

You look down at the comm on your wrist and your heart nearly soars with victory.  It worked.  It worked.  You just have to outlast a bit longer, don’t draw any extra attention to it—he’s preoccupied and he certainly doesn’t sound happy, but you hope that’ll be enough to make him slip.  Use his frustration to your advantage, let him think the only thing you were successful at was momentarily escaping him.

“The cops weren’t part of the plan,” you admit quietly, keeping your head down as your loose hood billows in the twilight breeze.  “Don’t get caught.”

There’s a few moments of just his breathing, his footsteps, and the noise floor humming through the comm, before he finally responds.  “You look beautiful.”

You stare unseeingly down at the concrete under your feet, still feeling your hand tingle from where he caught you.  The line abruptly mutes on his end and you just keep moving forward, onward, wanting to look back but knowing he’s already long gone.

***

Day 5–5:24pm:

Din is fucking furious.

He had you.  You were right there, right in front of him, and even if he hadn’t been subtly trailing you all day, seeing the red footsteps get covered and flicker out of existence just a few moments after you make them, he would’ve recognized you anywhere.  In black and white, in the fading light, with your face covered, children calling you by a different name and attaching themselves to you like they’ve known you forever—doesn’t matter, he would’ve known you.  Your eyes have always given you away, always so expressive and starry and soft, but able to see right through solid steel whenever you look at him.

But then you slipped from his grasp, and then more guards pushed him further and further away from you.  They must all be in constant communication, because every single jumpsuit he sees immediately spots him and starts following.  It’s fucking exhausting, and he thinks of you the whole time.

He waits in a dark alley with the kid and taps the side of the helmet a few times to bring up the time on his comm, but then relaxes just slightly when he sees the hour.  It’s earlier than he thought it was, he’ll be able to find you again.

Though, something tugs at him while he’s looking at the clock ticking away in front of his eyes, counting down each second that passes.  There was… a moment.  Back in the square, when he was holding onto you again, when you were looking directly into his once more—everything in his helmet— 

No, he shakes his head while the kid looks up at him curiously, it can’t be.  It was just a split second, it was gone so fast.

But he can’t get rid of it.  Though there’s no explanation, he thinks the display screen flickered.  The sky behind you looked different for a single frame, your footsteps weren’t bright red and visible anymore, your eyes weren’t grey and he stopped wondering what shade of fabric you and your friend decided to choose for you to wear.  It was silvery, he’s almost certain.  Like his armor, it only reflected the color of everything around it.

Color.  Everywhere.  Bursting for a blink of an eye, and then gone just as quick, before he could actually figure out what it really meant.

***

Day 5–6:59pm:

This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.

It doesn’t ever really get truly dark thanks to the enormous hanging moon and ringed gas giant dancing with Sanctuary II, constantly reflecting light back onto the surface and reacting with some of the trace chemicals up above the atmosphere, and you think the sky just might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen it.  Must have something to do with the equinox, the glimmering angles of light being played with by celestial bodies in this stunning system, but it’s a dream.  The Maker apparently couldn’t decide which colors he wanted tonight so he just splashed all of them together all at once, let them run and blend like ink in the gentle water below, like the various people who call this moon home.

That view in front of you, coupled with all the flowers and lanterns lining the streets behind you, and you’ve lost track of time the exact same way you hoped Din would.  You think you’ve stood for about an hour or so in this one spot, half-listening to excited chatter from the babies, mostly just gazing across the stretch of water and being able to just barely spot the docks in the distance, but it feels like it’s only been minutes.

You check your watch—the fireworks should be starting any second now.  You don’t know what to expect, just that in your experience, explosions tend to be loud.  You've decided you’re not going to plug your ears, though.  Tummy twisting with nerves and another inexplicable feeling you can’t quite put your finger on, you resolve to experience the unknown exactly the way it’s meant to be.  Fully, without worry or fear.

Then, lacking any warning or ceremony whatsoever, a single flare launches silent and high from one of the small boats skimming the bay, and the crowd seems to hold its collective breath as the dim light disappears into thin air for a split second, before—

It’s… quite possibly the most dazzling thing you think you’ve ever seen.  So shamelessly decorative just for the sake of it, not serving any other practical purpose besides celebration and visual spectacle, and you’ll probably never know another extravagance like it.  You grew up with dust pelting against tired eyes, you never thought they’d get to reflect such gorgeous bursts of color back up at the sky, glassy and childlike amongst a group of equally wide-eyed children.

As expected, a deafening boom follows closely behind the singular display, but just witnessing it is incredible enough to make you forget to brace yourself for the sound and you jump almost violently in response.  There comes a loud cheer from the people standing around you, a few delighted gasps and children who decide now is the best time to start crying, but then more flares begin to launch from the boats and the subsequent show will sear itself into your memory to replay over and over again.

Still, you think the endless sky and dark water below would have to light on fire to stop him from coming to mind.

Din.

You click the comm on, continuing to stare in stunned awe but wanting nothing more than to hear his voice right now, feel his hand rest on your lower back and the kid’s three fingers squeezing one of yours while the stars rain down from above.  You’re only continuing to run from him because it’s expected of you, that’s the reason you’re here, but it’s becoming harder and harder to argue with yourself.  “Do you always see in black and white?”

It takes him just a few seconds to respond, but he always does.  “Only when I’m tracking someone.”

The loud booms can be heard over the earpiece, happening maybe a second after they crack and sparkle above you.  You can’t tell if the latency is due to the electronics or if he’s just that far away from the source of the sound itself, but… you don’t think he is.  He feels close again, like he could just walk up right next to you any second, or maybe that’s just how he always feels now.

“Does that mean you haven’t seen the sky here?”  You ask after a moment.  This whole time, everything has been grey for him?

“I saw it,” Din murmurs, and even though it’s quiet and explosions are thundering loud enough to deafen more sensitive ears, his quiet voice somehow breaks through it all.  “When you left the Crest, I saw it behind you.”

For some reason, you suddenly feel like crying.  Whether it’s the way he phrases it or the sentiment in the words, you’re close to tears without even knowing why, looking up at the sky illuminating spectacularly.  He says it like he wasn’t the one who parked on this moon and told you to go on without him.  “Can you… turn it off for just a second?”

He takes a second, before clarifying for you.  “I turn it off and I lose your footprints.”

So that was the ultimatum.  He doesn’t want to turn it off until you’re back with him again.  Does he not understand?  Does he not know what you know?  Maybe you just happened to feel it first, this overwhelming physical sensation inside you whenever you think about him.  It’s like the exact opposite of a hole in your chest.  And it’s so odd, so counterintuitive.  Being comforted in his absence, feeling him with you when he isn’t.  Falling in love in the dark, knowing him without ever seeing him.

“You never needed them,” you say, reaching up to pull your mask down under your jaw and chin for a moment, wanting to freely breathe the freshwater and flowers while stars explode and fracture across the sky.  It’s a truth you’re acknowledging, something you’ll carry with you, something you fundamentally own at this point.  “You’d find me without the helmet.  And I’d find you.”

The fireworks continue to bleed into the water beneath them, multicolor splashes rippling into existence and disappearing just as quick.  You could’ve never imagined a more colorful, magnificent landscape—besides your waterfall on Naboo, of course.  That was a pure product of nature though, a place hidden away and untouched by people, completely sacred.  Light refracting against mist, natural glass that would shatter under your weight.  This is a celebration of life and family.  Loud in a different way, affecting you in a different way, but just as wonderful and touching.  A cultivated paradise, designed to be beautiful and safe only because they wanted it to be.

“Think so?”  He asks softly.  He sounds so deep and warm, but… a little distant.  You’re able to hear it in his words.  You don’t know why, though.  Doesn’t he believe you?  Perhaps… perhaps this isn’t The Way.  Perhaps this is part of a completely different oath, one where knowing and loving somebody isn’t the same thing as looking at their face, not at all.  Where you can have them exist entirely separate from each other, because this is love.  This is real, enduring, bone-deep love, and you haven’t ever seen his face, so how would he explain that?  How would the Mandalorians reconcile that?  You bear the mark of the mudhorn, you’ve moved through time and space with him, you’re a mother to his son, and you’ve never seen his face.  It defies both the Mandalorian oath and traditional understandings of love, or it meets them right in the middle, depending on how you look at it.

“I know so.”  For the first time, you think you might sound more confident and certain than he does.  Maybe he doesn’t fully get it yet, but then you suppose he’ll just have to trust you.  “Will you look at the sky?”

“I see it,” Din tells you, but you know he doesn’t.  Not the way you want him to.  And stars, you just want so many things for him, don’t you?  The sky, fresh air, water, light, food, rest.  You want him to see the galaxy the way you do—have a new appreciation for the gifts that are given just because you’re alive to experience them.  All the physics and mathematics aligned perfectly for it to happen—all the chemistry, the systems, the dynamics that dictate the universe, they all got together and crafted a world where you, him, and the kid all exist together at the same time.  You want him to know the significance of that.

“With color?”  You ask, knowing his answer before he seems to.

“I…”  Din wants to argue, or at least say it again.  He can’t or he’ll lose you, he already told you he doesn’t want to turn the setting off.  It’s such an unnecessary conflict, but you want to respect it so much that you’re willing to give up things of your own to make it happen.

“How do I fix it then?”  You whisper, so desperately wanting this one thing for him, this one grandeur to behold.  How do you fix this problem?  How do you convince him to look with you?  You’d offer to just go and find him instead of continuing to run away for the next few hours, but you know the show will be over soon and you don’t have much time left.  “Do you want me to come look for you?  It’ll be too late by then, you’re too far away.  Look at the sky.”

It’s silent for a moment—truly silent, even though colorful bombs are going off above the bay.  You don’t know why you’ve attached yourself to this so strongly, but it’s almost devastating when you don’t get a response.  You look away from the spectacle for the first time in an eternity, gazing unseeingly into the crowd of onlookers with a sudden sadness taking hold of you.  He won’t look, he’s too stubborn, he holds onto things too tightly.

But then, a flurry of flares start launching in rapid succession from the distant boats, screaming and crying on their way up and then igniting into showers of light, and the abrupt increase in activity manages to catch your attention once again.  This must be the end, they saved the best for last.  Every corner of the horizon flashes and sparks, and you’re mesmerized at how bright it is, how many colors they’ve managed to fit into one single frame.

“It’s beautiful,” comes his voice, and the smile that you break into feels just right for the brilliance of the view above you.  Maker, it is, isn’t it?  Now you can hear it—he sounds like he’s looking at it too, with color, in all its breathtaking glory, and you feel like you’re flying.  Like he picked you up and let you watch up close, like you can feel his armor under your fingers right now as he carries you through the sky.

It swells up inside you, a rising wave similar to the ones you can see in the distance, and you know you probably shouldn’t say it because it’s not in your best interest to say it right now, but you have to say it anyways.  It’s an unknowable compulsion, a need to connect and communicate directly with him but for your sake, not presently, not at this exact moment in time.

Luckily, you mute your comm just in time and simply give the words to him from very far away.

“Hurry up,” you say, sending the sentiment into the sky with all your love, and the conflicting hope that he won’t take the advice until a bit later on.  “Come and find me.”

***

Day 5–7:37pm:

After the fireworks are over, people start to drift off in separate directions, clearing the traffic and congestion from the streets around you.  Someone puts their hand on your shoulder and you blink a few times, spinning around and almost stepping on a bunch of tiny little feet by accident.

Stars, that’s a lot of children.  They’re all crowded around Naydee, who pats a few heads and almost buckles under the younglings clinging to her leg.

“Figured you would be long gone by now,” she grins at you from behind her mask, and you’re reminded to pull yours up over your face just from looking at her.  “It’s late—we’re going back to the Keja.”

“Oh, shit,” you breathe in surprise, but the noise of the gradually dispersing crowd manages to cover it up.  At least from younger, more easily distracted ears, but you think Naydee hears you.  Her dark eyes roll good-naturedly, looking happy but exhausted from the long day.  You’re going to have to say goodbye now.

“What happened to your family?”  She asks after a moment, and you think she’s being careful with the way she says it, likely because family is a difficult topic to navigate in general around some of the children hanging on her and begging for her attention.  “Have you been in touch with them?  If not, I’m sure you can come back with us.  It’ll be late by the time we get there, but at least you’ll be safe.”

You open your mouth to automatically decline her offer, knowing Din is still in the crowded city looking for you and wanting to stay where there’s lots of people.

But then… well, he would expect you to do that, wouldn’t he?

There’s more people here.  More danger, but better places to hide.  It’s the obvious choice, it’s the one that makes the most logical sense.  But you’d also be completely alone and you’re assuming the only reason he hasn’t snatched you up yet—which you know he could’ve done multiple times by now, is likely because you’re with a group of innocent foundlings, moody teenagers, and very stern older women.  He probably doesn’t realize you’ve told them about him and the kid, though you were slightly vague on the details.

It’s also a little over three hours to get back, but you’re banking on it being closer to four with how whiney and tired some of the small voices sound, others sounding like they’re an enormous sugar rush contained into a tiny little capsule.  Would he have the gall to try and get you right from under their noses?  Will he even know you left the city, or will he assume you made the smartest decision possible and simply account for it ahead of time?  No, you're overthinking it, just make a decision and stick with it.

“There’s also free food,” Naydee shrugs while you’re still considering, but… well, that settles that.  Almost three days of friendship and she already knows exactly how to win you over in the end.  Sustenance for your empty tummy, an escort the entire way there, and heavily guarded walls beyond.  Din will have to get creative in response—you flaunted your imagination for days, coming up with dozens of evasion tactics to outlast him, but this one just seems… incredibly practical.  Exploiting a weakness of his—isolating it, having it be reinforced by precedent, and then taking advantage of it.  You bet he’ll catch on, but still, it’ll make it more difficult for him, and you’re grasping at straws to hang on just a little longer.

“I…”  Quick, come up with something.  You clear your throat.  “The city is too crowded, I haven’t been able to find them.  I could just… tell them where I’m headed and see if they can find me along the way?”

Naydee smiles and nods.  “Sounds perfect.”

Yet, the entire walk back… you keep thinking you’re going to feel Din trailing behind you, waiting to feel the nerves twist in your tummy and your palms to sweat, but you don’t.  You keep glancing over your shoulder and then down at your wrist, needing to talk yourself out of addressing him through the comm to let him know exactly what the plan is.  You like maintaining a sense of secrecy from the new characters you’ve met on your adventures—Naydee, Karga, Peli—almost everyone you’ve been introduced to, you found a way to find a subtle enjoyment in hiding certain things from them.  But with Din, you don’t have any walls.  They crumbled nearly a full year ago when he silently pushed a cauterizer in your hand and took his armor off for you, and you’ve felt the inexplicable need to bare yourself to him in return ever since.  It would be to your extreme detriment to do it now, but you still have to fight the urge.

Even if you don’t feel him following, you still find yourself acting like he is.  Constantly turning back to double check the road behind you, drifting off in the middle of shallow, distant conversations with tiny foundlings who can’t tell the difference, keeping towards the middle of the pack this time to avoid being picked off towards the back.  The belltower at the orphanage is loud and will ring for quite a distance, so your timing has to be utterly pristine for this to all work out.  You eye your comm the entire way there, trying to stall just the right amount to avoid any realizations or fall into any traps he may be setting for you.

You eventually leave the city walls far behind you, and now you have no clue where he is.  You lost him, and maybe that’s why you feel your heart beat insanely fast the whole time.  He could be anywhere now.  Behind you, adjacent, parallel—you can’t decide where to look, but it keeps you wide awake and focused while the group tiredly travels back to the temple.

***

Day 5–11:32pm:

You can see it in the distance, the brick buildings slowly coming into view.  One might think your stress would have worked itself out by now, been brought back to a manageable level after four hours of walking, but you’ve been on red alert for the past hour or so.  Any movement or rustle that doesn’t come from the sleepy children or exhausted caretakers, you’re on top of it, snapping your attention to the offending tree or animal and not being able to relax even after affirming it’s just nature, it’s not shiny metal bounding after you in the darkness, ready to take you down.

The infants are all likely snoozing away in the nursery, and the Sister who volunteered to stay behind and look after them comes to greet the group at the gate as you approach.  Like always, two Brothers open the iron bars to allow you inside, and you feel the anxiety dig its claws into your tummy.  If Din is going to get you, this is the very last moment to do it.  These walls are guarded and you’re nervous for him, you’re nervous for yourself—you’re just fucking nervous.  Jumpy and worried, not being able to pinpoint him anymore and feeling all the more anxious because of it.

It doesn’t feel right.  Nothing feels right about this, but you can’t figure out specifically what’s wrong.  This was the exact plan, this was a way for you to just survive these last few hours and yet, it doesn’t feel right that you actually succeeded in doing so.  It doesn’t make sense that he’d allow you to return all the way here, especially when he was close enough to touch you earlier.  Din has had so much time to snatch you up, so many opportunities to lure you away, confront you—anything to catch you, and he hasn’t done it yet.  Why?  Either you truly did escape and he has no idea where you are, which doesn’t feel right, or he’s choosing not to get you for whatever reason, which also doesn’t feel right.  What’s he waiting for?  You can’t have won.  It was all too fucking easy, you’re expecting to see him around every single corner because he should be there, he shouldn’t have allowed this to happen.

When someone gently touches your elbow, you’re so on edge that you nearly whip around in surprise.

“Sorry!”  Naydee immediately apologizes, taking her hand back to lift her hood and remove the mask covering her face.  “Didn’t mean to scare you!  I was just going to say that the commissary is still open,” she offers, and you watch the small group of hungry teenagers break off from the group to make their way there.  “It’s going to take awhile to get the children ready for bed, so we’ll be in the dormitories if you need to sleep.  Otherwise, I’m not sure I’ll see you again.”

You stare at her and blink a few times, trying to readjust your focus.  She’s your new friend, she just said this was likely the last time you’ll see each other, but you can’t stop thinking about Din.  Imagine he’s hours away in the city right now, still looking for you.  You’re trying to evaluate your priorities here, but you truthfully never expected to get this far.  Inside the gates, surrounded by brick buildings and silent guards.  You know your way around here, you know hiding spots, you know how to outlast—it’s incredibly advantageous for you to be inside these walls.  What is he doing?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you give Naydee a quick hug and she happily accepts it.  “I’m sure we’ll meet again at some point.”

She smiles and nods, pulling back and letting a couple grumpy foundlings catch her robes and yank on them impatiently.  The loud group eventually disappears into the dorms, and the door shutting behind them cuts off the tired crying and chatty voices determined to stay awake, leaving you in silence that feels slightly unfamiliar after going without it for so long.

Fuck, you just need to breathe.  As soon as the dead quiet grips the air around you, you realize you need to relax.  You’re way too fucking wound up; you want to bolt at the smallest thing and the sudden silence of being alone multiplies it to the point where you have to remind yourself of its importance.  Breathe.  Focus.  There’s about fifteen minutes before the bells ring, fifteen more minutes and the chase will be all over.

Can you eat?  You thought you’d want to, but you think you’re too fucking antsy.  You can’t stay here alone, that’s for sure, but you also don’t want to be around all the children right now.  The commissary will have a handful of people wandering around, teens snacking and maybe a Brother or two standing guard.  It’s the best place to wait the clock out, so you make your way there.  The gentle breeze billows around your loose robes, your pantlegs swishing as you walk.

A few minutes later, you’ve got a plate of food in front of you but your mask is still up, and you’re just sitting there.  Towards the back of the large room, sitting by yourself at one of the tables and staring down at your communicator.  Five minutes.  You have five fucking minutes left before he finds you.  Can you feel him?  Is he closing in?

You sit up a bit straighter, taking a deep breath.  Focus on that feeling from earlier.  The presence in your chest, the weight that didn’t used to be there months ago—focus on that feeling and branch it outwards.  Can you feel him?

Something catches your eye.

Or no… it doesn’t, does it?  Nothing is out of place here, nothing is visibly wrong or amiss.  The only thing that’s changed from all the times before is how dark it is through the windows, and how there are only a few kids in here grabbing a midnight snack instead of being packed like usual.  Nothing else.

But there’s… there’s an acolyte in the far corner, standing guard with his back to the wall.  It’s not his presence that gives you pause—you expected him to be here, there’s always been at least one present whenever you’ve sat down to eat.  He doesn’t look any different from the rest of the Brothers you’ve passed by this evening or the days before—tall, silent, dark brown robes, hooded and mysterious—so why do you suddenly feel yourself break out into a cold sweat as soon as your eyes land on him?

Bubbling laughter and chatter echoes through the large room from one of the tables near the entrance—seven teenagers stuffing their faces with food and sharing animated conversation with each other now that it’s late and they’re alone—but your stomach twists and your fingers start to tremble as you slowly rise from your seat in the back.  You want to keep your head down and be casual but it’s impossible, you desperately need to keep looking at that silent guard in particular and your heart kicks up in your chest—

—and then it wrenches sideways when you’re carefully backing away from the table and the offending acolyte takes a single step forwards.

Run.  Everything in you screams for you to run, and it’s rarely done that before, but you can’t.  Not yet, you don’t want to draw attention, and the logical part of your mind rages against your gut instinct to haul ass.  He’s here—of course he is, the thought screams through your veins as you try to weave quickly in between tables, feeling light on your toes and readying yourself to run as soon as you can.  The dark figure seems to find a careful pace behind you, staying just far enough behind and walking in perfect silence, and you have so many fucking questions but you can’t even think a single thing beyond run away, run away.  Where’s the kid?  How did he get those robes?  Did he actually take his helmet off just to get to you in a room where anyone could confront him?

Your feet propel you forward as soon as you make it out of the door, you break out into a sprint—just flat out bolting because you know how fucking fast he is and you need as big a headstart as you can get.

You race down the stairs and through the courtyard, the beautiful surroundings contrasting drastically with the way you’re running for your fucking life through them.  It’s not beautiful to you right now; you feel clumsy and physically unable to move fast enough no matter how quick you go, your eyes are wide and every nerve is on fire and you can’t even tell if he’s behind you anymore with how silently he moves, but you just trust that he is and keep barreling forward.  Your breath puffs against the clinging fabric of your mask as you keep sprinting, willing your legs to pump faster.  Get to the belltower at least, get to where you have the smallest chance of being caught by the people who guard this place.

As soon as you allow yourself to even conceive the possibility, two Brothers in dark hooded robes suddenly turn the corner a little ways in front of you and your reaction time is perfect—you jerk to a halt and take a single step forward as soon as they spot you.  Since your momentum already committed you to it, you just have to walk, keep your head down, move directly past them and hope Din disappeared from behind you in time.

Step, step, step—keep going, control your breathing, you’re okay, you’re allowed to be up late tonight and they shouldn’t stop you.  Walk right by…  Stars, you feel their silent stares as you casually pass, and it just feels so cold and analytical compared to the kind of danger Din is gives off when dressed in the exact same clothing.  He’s hard and tangible and an unrelenting force, where they just feel like ghosts that haunt this place.  The threat they present is impersonal and detached, but the terror currently chasing after you is so real that he can read your mind.

You wipe the sweat from your brow as soon as you turn the corner, and your feet are already starting to speed up on their own knowing you’re out of their sight.  Run, get to the belltower before Din does, you can see it standing tall about a hundred feet away.  The stairs leading to the door come closer and closer, but you hear something behind you and it propels you faster.  It’s like you can feel him right at your heels even though you haven’t seen him, snapping at your ankles even though your footsteps are the only ones you can hear anymore.

You scramble up the stairs and close the door behind you, spinning around and facing it even as you slowly retreat backwards into the moonlit tower, trying to stay quiet.  Breathing through your nose, eyes shifting around the enclosed space, continuing to back up and away from the door.  Where is he?  There are so many windows that allow you to look outside, but why can’t you spot his movement through them?  Wasn’t he right behind you?

Behind you.

There’s no reason or logic at all to it; you just react.  Spinning around and throwing a mean punch.

Din jerks back just in time to miss it, twisting and dodging at the very last second to avoid your next few hits—but… things seem to slow down, even if they’re happening so fast.  The moonlight cascades through the dozens of windows lining the circular walls and it shines just enough to reveal small glimpses of him.  With every aggressive strike from you, you see something else—you see a flash of his chin when you try to uppercut, you aim for his chest and you see a bit of his jaw.  When you go for his jaw, he steps sideways and catches your wrist, and you see the bend of his nose catch the light this time.

But then it’s like he finally figures out that you’re actually fighting him, and now he’s coming for you.  Trained and ruthless, not weighed down by any armor and lightning quick, launching perfectly aimed attacks that you’re only able to avoid from reaction and muscle memory alone.  You block or move whenever he strikes, you attack whenever you see an opening, you sidestep at the same time he does—

Until you land a spin kick directly to the center of his chest and snap your leg to shove him back, your heel smashing into that soft spot right above his stomach with dead precision and brute force.  He exhales sharply and takes a few more steps back to steady himself while you pause to catch your breath.

Din abruptly comes back and you fall into it with him again, keeping a sharp rhythm with each other that’s faster, harder, and way more real than any sparring match you’ve ever shared.  The hours and days in hyperspace you spent practicing with him are but a fraction of what he’s throwing at you right now, the combinations so rapid and blurred that you just have to trust your knowledge of him and his movement through the dark.

But then, your downfall.  Bells begin ringing an earsplittingly familiar melody above you, and it shatters your concentration—you falter just as he grabs you and sweeps your feet out, and though you know how to get out of that, you’re not quick enough on the jump nor counterswing to prevent it.  He takes you to the ground, hard, and then your wrists are being pinned together above your head and your mask is being tugged down.

Din’s mouth on yours makes you want to cry.

The whole thing is like coming home.  You spent a week surrounded by strangers and having them call you by a name not given to you, fending for yourself, and now here he is.  Someone who knows who you really are, someone that wants to care for you.  Tears come to your eyes even as they're pressed tightly shut, and Din kisses you like he’s never known anything else.  His mouth fits to yours as if the Maker made your lips before ever considering the rest of you, his bare hand clutching your jaw and forcing you to open for him, letting him lick deep inside after going so many days without it.  It might feel dominant and overwhelming if it happened to any other person, but through it, you can also taste his desperation and weakness, how soft he is even when he’s squeezing your jaw and squishing your wrists together too tightly.

Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.

He pulls back and your heart throbs at how moonlight continues to bathe just the smallest glimpses of him under the hood—never the full thing, never the whole face, but enough.  The quiet light that brushes the arch of his nose, how it bathes the hard line of his jaw so that you can barely see his scruff when he turns his head the right way.  His eyes are hidden in near darkness but there’s the faintest glimmer where they should be, and it’s the closest you’ve ever been to looking at him without the helmet.  You can see him, you can see shadows of his chin, his neck—dear stars, his fucking neck.  You’re pinned and paralyzed under him and the ringing bells, yet you feel like you just might float if he wasn’t holding you so tight to the floor.

“Where’s the baby?”  You finally lift your chin and ask, needing to raise your voice over the melody clanging loud throughout the tower.

“Making friends,” Din pants back down at you, and… stars, then you just start giggling.  Adrenaline turning into pure joy, imagining the kid wreaking havoc with all the other babies in the nursery right now.  It feels more light and airy than anything your body should know.

“What are you so happy about?” He asks, swallowing and then continuing on with the same quick gasps.  “You lost, I caught you in time.”

“Did you?”  You drop your head to the brick floor and ask, biting your lip as he stares back down at you.  Suddenly—

—Bong—

Din holds utterly still over you while you take a quick breath and wait for the next eleven bells… 

…but then break into a slow grin up at him when nothing but utter silence follows.

There’s a moment.  Just a single moment where the cogs turn rapidly under that shadowy hood, one where the faint reflection of light in his eyes flickers down to the communicator on your wrist that says midnight and back to you, one that solidifies the longer it takes for another bell to ring.  It’s not going to.

One o’clock.

You think he puts it together.  The one moment he was never able to figure you out—when you tried reprogramming the comms just a few days ago.  The one trick up your sleeve that you resigned to throw away and almost forget about because the circumstances for pulling it off were never realistic.  Fuck with the electronics and set the clock back just one hour—all you’d need to do is reset his communicator, the timecode is synced together.  He told you before that it’s connected to his helmet, but all the buttons still work.  Rapid, panicky thinking and a wild surge of bravery in the face of certain downfall is the only reason you were able to pull it off, and you’re perfectly willing to admit you just got lucky… especially when he’s still holding dead still over you.

But then Din moves so suddenly.  You can’t account for it because there’s no build-up whatsoever—it’s so fast, you yelp while he grabs your knees and throws them both to one side.  You flop over sideways and large hands reach up under the draping length of your tunic to yank your pants down over the curve of your ass, before he’s fitting his palm up between your legs and pushing two thick fingers inside you.

Your head thunks back against brick with how unexpected and merciless it is, but his other hand is grabbing your jaw and twisting, forcing you to look up, stare right into the dark shadow under the loose cowl.  The whole thing is too overwhelming—you’re trying to keep quiet but your breathing feels like thunder crashing inside this tall, echoing chamber.  He’s touched you so many times, he knows exactly how to do it by now, but it feels like so much more than that.  Probably because you can see the way Din’s mouth silently falls open as he feels you, stretching his fingers up and hooking them tight inside.  You can tell when he closes his eyes, the smallest glint slowly disappearing into nothingness while the hand around your jaw blindly moves up.  It catches your chin and lips, and then two fingers push over the bottom edge of your teeth to slip into your mouth.

Your entire leg twitches and jerks while you lay sideways on the ground and open up for him, your neck twisted at a sharp angle to keep your eyes on him and his fingers in your mouth, giving you something to bite to stop making noise.  Din makes room for himself inside you two different ways, and you just choke on his fingers and try to stay quiet, praying he’ll go deeper.

But then you’re not expecting his whole fucking arm to start moving the way it does—oh fuck, what is that?  First you just feel jostled and displaced, but then suddenly a wicked, deep, burning pleasure starts to roar through you, radiating outwards from the rapid motion of just two fingers inside you.  It’s not in and out, it’s up and down so hard and quick against your g-spot that your eyes cross and your hands go numb.

You think you grab at him, clutch onto his arm or chest and open your mouth to moan at the new and overwhelming sensation, but his hand pushes up against your chin and closes it for you, the bend of his fingers caught hard between your teeth but you don’t think he cares.

“Quiet,” Din hisses the word down at you while his arm continues to work, your toes starting to curl as the feeling overwhelms you.  Fuck, what is happening, what is happening?  It’s like he’s just shoving unfamiliar sensation at you so forcefully that you can’t even think straight anymore, not even ten seconds in.  You can only feel the pleasure, fire blurring hot and shapeless through your entire body as your eyes clamp shut, his fingers isolating that perfect spot and stimulating it directly, relentlessly.

Something dull and white hot presses up tight against all the muscles you have down there and you’re almost afraid of how strong it is.  You gasp and choke and he has to take his fingers out of your mouth and just clamp down around your entire jaw, sealing the whole thing shut with his large hand.  And then Din’s fingers leave your pussy too—and stars, you should be embarrassed by how desperately it clamps around nothing for as long as it does.  He’s not even inside you anymore but your body is on such a delay from the hot, twisting pleasure, and he doesn’t put them back in until your muscles are finished spasming.

Everything comes back full force as soon as he starts moving again.  Noise starts to come from your throat, humming in your vocal cords to deal with the arcing, swirling build, and so Din just moves his hand there instead.  He finds where it’s vibrating from your neck and he pushes up against it, trapping the sound right at the source.  He’s fucking perfect at it for some reason… how many times must he have done this to know how to cut noise out without stopping airflow?  You clutch at his wrist and silently mouth his name, feeling his arm work between your legs—faster, faster, harder, pushing you higher, higher—

Din pulls his fingers out again and this time, one of your thighs suddenly feels warm and wet while you spasm and you hear him growl out a ragged, “Fuck yes.”  Everything is sparks zapping through you long after his touch is gone, you cry out but it’s all trapped under Din’s expert grip.  His fingers soon push back inside you and you dig your nails into his forearm, your sounds muffled and quiet enough to hear his raspy groan.  

“Let me see it again,” Din breathes, his arm starting to work up and down once more, and you don’t even know what he’s talking about anymore.  What does he want to see?  You losing your mind again?  Being reduced to an utter mess in front of his shadowy but unobstructed gaze just because you managed to pull one over on him?

Fucking… apparently.  It’s what happens, after all.  You’ve never seen him like this before; whenever he’s worked up and taking it out on you, there was always something in it for him, too.  He’d hammer into you and rock your world until his eventually shattered, and then you’d both lay exhausted afterwards, equally affected and satisfied.  This isn’t like that—this is just cruel, targeted retribution on his behalf, coaxing the molten pleasure out of you with his fingers and keeping his other hand locked around your throat.  You blink helplessly up at him, your vision starting to blur by the time he leans down to whisper to you.

“I missed you, sweet girl.  Did you miss me?”  It’s so soft and quiet compared to the strength and relentlessness of his movements.  You can’t speak even if you wanted to, but when he finally pulls away to yank his hand out and you feel all your muscles automatically flex outwards and push against the sudden emptiness inside you, his voice groans long and satisfied while your thighs get wet again  “Yeah you did,” he breathes, pushing your shaky legs to the brick with his hand and watching you struggle through the aftershocks.

Did you just cum?  You don’t even know, that’s how fucked up you are right now.  The whole thing felt like an orgasm from the very beginning, just a boiling hot tornado ripping through every single cell in your body, never really having a peak.  If you didn’t cum, then why do you feel so weak?  You feel heavy, your limbs don’t work properly, and you barely even register Din pulling at the fabric of his own robes until he fits himself up against your entrance.

When you do realize it, though… your body burns with it, wrecked already but wanting him to take what he wants from you.

“Oh, plea—” you gasp but you don’t even have enough time to get the full sentence out.  He’s already pushing his hips forward, pressing you tight into the ground and opening you up after what feels like a fucking eternity without him.  It’s the hottest, slickest welcome you could give him, you hear it in the whispered curse his lips brush up under your ear, the wet noises your body makes that get louder the longer you hold the moan in your throat and bury your head into his shoulder.  He throbs thick and perfect inside your tight, spasming cunt, stretching you and smacking the rough ground near your head with how fucking good it is to be back, finally, finally—

Your hands grab uselessly at his chest while you try to acclimate, try to breathe while you’re blind with sensation.  It’s so fitting for him, isn’t it?  That your reunion should be just as physically debilitating as it is mentally.  Din’s voice scrapes on a groan like he’s dragging it across the brick ground as quiet as he can, catching when you clamp down on him and shuddering when you clamp down harder.  That’s just it—you don’t ever loosen, you just keep tightening and tightening around him, threatening to break and cum again.

This feels different from before, though.  It’s deep, purposefully so.  His hand reaches up to push the fabric of your hood back, lifting himself up over your body and wanting to start as deep as he can.  You feel him in a place you’d never be able to reach and that’s just the beginning—that’s before he starts thrusting into you, hitting a dull sensation at the apex of each movement so hard that it becomes sharp.  His hips don’t make practically any sound smacking into you because they don’t really smack, they just rock downwards and fuck you into the floor without needing to pull out really at all.  You know he’s just trying to keep it as quiet as possible, but what he lacks in speed and agility he makes up in power.

You don’t even realize you’re making too much noise until a palm wraps tight around your mouth and the room gets a little emptier.  Din keeps you all to himself on the floor, silencing as much as he’s working you up, smothering as much as he’s freeing you.  There’s no easing up, no dragging it out, no gradual build or climb—it’s just there all of a sudden, pleasure and pain pummeling you all at once, engulfing you in flames.

You reach up to grab at the loose fabric of the hood over his face, catching a fistful of it before his hand suddenly snatches your shaky wrist and pins it back to the ground.

Maker, you forgot—oh, you completely forgot about how many people could find you right now if they ever decided to look in the right place.  You’re not in hyperspace; your body is rocking against rough brick, you’re probably going to have a lump on the back of your head from how terrible you are at trying to map out heaven while holding still.  He’s pinned down what he can with one hand; your fingers are the only things that can move besides how tight you can curl your toes, but you feel your moans turn into words against his palm.  They garble indistinctly and you’re not really even sure what you’re saying, but Din decides it’s worth hearing.

“Shh,” he whispers, slowly lifting his hand from your mouth.  “Shh, tell me—”

“W-wanna look,” you hear yourself whimper, trying your best to keep quiet but wanting to scream it while he fucks you hard and slow on the ground, “—I wanna see, I wanna look at you—”

“Fuck,” Din gasps, and though his grip tightens on your wrist and you know he can’t do it right this second, the words seem like they shatter something inside him, “Keep—oh fuck, please, k-keep saying…”

“I want to marry you,” you nearly whine for him, feeling his hips kick up rapidly and start hammering in and out, in and out, in and—“I want to see your face, I wanna be yours, I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I-I—”

You think he drops his head into your neck to muffle his own sounds.  Though they start out rough and quiet and indiscernible, but they gradually become louder as he repeats himself over and over again, growling and fucking you rough.  You only catch it on the peak, when he pulls his mouth away from your skin and gasps them raggedly one last time.

“—ve you—I l-love y—”

He kisses you to stop himself.  But it’s not really a kiss, it’s more desperate than that.  Though it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful in a different light.  It’s not rejoicing at having you back with him once again; it’s a last prayer begging you to stay by his side forever.  He loves you.  He gives it everything—it feels even more concrete and simple than taking the hood off him and revealing his face would.  You told you that you'd know him without ever seeing him, and you did.  You picked him out and found him when absolutely nothing was giving him away, and this feels like a manifestation of that.  Even if you’re not in a place where he can show you his face, his beautiful brown eyes, something still feels like it changes.  He loves you.  You gasp into his mouth and his tongue sinks deep into yours, tenacious and brave and unyielding.  

When you finally cum, you almost bite him on accident.  

Everything surges hot and molten while he pulls back and keeps fucking you through it, and you can’t tell where you’re touching him anymore, just that his skin is blazing hot under your hand and he feels like everything the armor isn’t.  He loves you.  You’re looking into his eyes right now.  You can’t see any of the details, not really, but the moonlight flickers like silent stars moving through dark depths, staring right back at you and giving you an anchor for the euphoria rocketing through you.  He loves you.  Your nails dig in sharp and slowly drag downwards, scratching hard red lines into whatever thick muscle that is—

The back of his neck, making his hips stutter and when he cums for you, he does bite.

You lift your head just in time to feel his teeth catch your chin instead of your mouth, and his entire body shakes while you keep dragging your nails down the side of his neck and his throat.  Din fucking lives for it, he releases you and arches into the pain and owns your marks like he wishes you made them deeper, stretching his neck and lifting his chin into the moonlight and—

Maker.  You can see it, with direct light, you can see more of it than ever before.  You can see his soft lips and white teeth gritting the sound of your name as quietly as he can, the dark facial hair dusting across the lower half of his face.  A fucking gorgeous jawline and throat extended long over you, flexing hard with his cock pulsing inside you.  You can just barely see the bottom of his nose from under the brown hood, the dark curls brushing up under his ears.

Stars, you still never see his eyes, the fabric of his hood acts like a blindfold draped over them, but you think you cum again.  Even if it’s on accident, it’s mean—Din tries to keep from squishing you and his hand pushes down hard against your lower tummy while he shoves his hips deep one last time, and you cum while staring at half of his face in the moonlight.  Completely lovestruck.

How can he be this beautiful when you’ve only seen fractions of him?  You have everything but the eyes now, everything but the most mysterious thing about him, the reflection into his deepest self, but you feel like you’re hypnotized by every single feature you do see.  His tongue coming out to wet his lips, the vein pulling under his sharp jaw—he’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous, and your body agrees.  It shakes and shudders under him and eventually, Din finishes and you keep looking as his chin slowly lowers, face disappearing into the shadow once more.

Stars.  He’s so handsome and no one has ever told him, fucking dreamy and the biggest grump you’ve ever met.  Without being able to see him, you already want to reach your hands out and touch him, drag your nails through his scruff and force him to extend outwards into the moonlight again for you.  Whenever he does end up showing you his face, you know right fucking now that you’ll never be able to look away.  For the rest of your life, you’ll be staring at him, apologizing blankly for your rudeness but not feeling sorry at all.

Din leans down and gives you a slow, gentle kiss, finally relaxing into a slouch and breathing hard with the effort it took to shatter you with pleasure.

“The kid is with the other foundlings,” he whispers against your lips.  “You… you’ll have to go get him, I need to grab my armor.”

You squeeze around his cock, pulling at the fabric of his robes and ignoring him for just a second.  He fucked you in robes belonging to one of the guards and nobody has mentioned it, you need to say something.  “Where did you get this?”

“I found it,” he tells you after a moment, kissing up under your jaw.  Oh fucking Maker, he feels so good and perfect inside you, shoulders so broad and crowding you on the floor, and his lips are plush and hot, brushing and fitting your skin like it’s just an extension of his own.  “Some guy was wearing it.”

It takes you a second.

“Mando,” you suddenly gasp in quiet horror, pushing at his chest and trying your best to detach his mouth from your throat.  It’s so much more difficult than it needs to be, but you eventually succeed.  “What did you do to him?  Where is he?”

He lifts his neck up just the tiniest bit, turning his face towards yours under the hood and holding still for way too fucking long.  He’s too close to see the expression he’s making, but you know the tone of his silence.  He’s in trouble and he knows it before you do.

“Ma—”

“They’re in a closet,” he admits at the very same time, completely monotone.

You don’t know which word to emphasize.  A fucking closet?  They’re?  Plural?  Instead of stressing any particular word, you decide not to do it at all and it ends up just coming out in the same exact blank tone as him.  “They're in a closet.”

“Inside the Temple,” Din continues on when you lay still as a statue underneath him.  His head slowly dips down once more, pushing his hips against you just the slightest bit to make you remember the cock still inside you instead.  Your eyelashes flutter with it—fuck, focus—“I didn’t know there’d be more than two.”  He kisses your neck so gently.  “It was an accident.”

You don’t say anything at all, your mouth pinching down at the corners because it should but your heartbeat galloping with how… fucking sexy he is.  You shouldn’t encourage this, this horrible behavior just to get close enough to catch you, but your curiosity overtakes you and you ask a question you’ve asked yourself before.  “Did they put up a fight?”

“Mm,” he whispers noncommittally, rocking his hips down once more.  “You did.”  Your nails dig into his chest, making him falter just slightly before slowly kissing your neck again.  “Did so good.  Fought hard, outsmarted me.  Pretty fucking girl.”

And then your eyes pop open as you feel it.  His cock suddenly beginning to harden once again inside you, twitching and gradually gaining a thicker shape, and for a moment, you actually fucking consider it.  He’s the only one in this galaxy that could not only ruin you on these sacred grounds, but then coax you into doing it more than once—stars, are you actually considering it?

“We can’t,” you automatically tell him, but it’s fucking pitiful.  Zero effort, absolutely no umph behind it, leaving it entirely up to him and how much he wants it.  Your logic reminds you that the kid is probably wreaking havoc in the nursery and there are tied up guards in the fucking temple that could be discovered any second.  You shouldn’t have even let him fuck you here in the first place, but…  “Mando, we can’t—”

His mouth opens against the crook of your neck and his tongue brushes velvet hot on your skin, tasting the glistening sweat there and not moving his broad figure a single inch over you besides getting closer, deeper.  Your nails dig into his collarbone, aiming for reason one last time.  It’s apparent that you’d be better off rephrasing, knowing the challenging streak in him and how much telling him what to do doesn't help.

“It’s not a good idea,” you attempt instead, breathless and trying not to move under his mouth and lazy hips.  “Not smart.  Bad idea to fuck again.”

Din’s body stops moving, even though he keeps getting harder.  His jaw opens and then his teeth scrape softly against your flesh, making you tilt your neck back and gasp.

“Later,” he lifts his head to state aloud, committing it to truth now that it’s been spoken and heard by another person.  “Later, I’ll fuck you on the ship, in our bed, when I can get you naked and have your taste in my mouth.”

Tingles rock through your body and you squeeze around his cock just as he pulls it out and tucks it back into his pants.  Your lungs quiver when you inhale—it’s shaky, but it reminds you of how long it’s been since you’ve been able to breathe correctly.

“Later,” you finally agree, combing your fingers through your hair and glad you have this hood to cover your freshly fucked dishevelment.  He came inside you and you don’t want to be leaking and getting your nice pretty robes all wet and stained, but then of course, without any prompting, Din quickly scoots back on his knees and drops his head down to take care of it for you.

***

Commotion.

After Din helped you clean up the way he sometimes likes and then disappeared to change back into his armor, you put your mask and hood back on and tried to look as casual as possible walking to the nursery.  Your knees wobbled slightly and you couldn’t stop smiling under the mask the entire walk there, but when you arrived, you just saw a dim room with sleeping infants—not what you were expecting.  Soon, however, you hear it: down the hall, distant and coming from the dormitories, you hear a loud commotion.

Fuck, you’re nearly wincing with every step you take now, and not because you’re sore.  Well, you… are, a little bit, but in a great way.  No, you’re just dreading the ridiculous shinanigans you already know are well underway, wondering if Din actually dropped the kid off in the dorms from the beginning or if he somehow migrated his way there to cause trouble.

When you walk inside, the first thing you see is a handful of crying and shouting toddlers, and while you can’t immediately spot your favorite floppy-eared monster, you don’t have to see him to know he’s probably standing tiny directly in the middle of this tense showdown.  Automatically, you’re taking a few steps forward to rescue him, but then you stop as soon as you see what the other babies are so mad about.  A large piece of chocolate leftover from the festival levitating just beyond their pitiful little reaches.

Hm.  Who could possibly be responsible for using demon powers to steal snacks and hold them hostage from a sizeable group of hostile children.  A mystery that may never be solved.

It makes you take a second.  The sheer… the… stars, you can’t even think straight—how fucking typical it is just hits you right in the chest, sends your heart into orbit.  Of course.  Of course this is what he’s gotten himself into without immediate supervision, of course this is the shipwreck you’d walk into, and you’re holding back a chuckle before making a single move to intervene.  In the midst of everything, you can hear adults approaching distantly from behind you.

“—don’t know where it came from, I was helping the younglings into bed when I heard the ruckus and I—”

The voices gradually grow louder, and you snatch the floating piece of candy out of thin air and whip around right before Sister Drya and Naydee walk in.  Their hushed, concerned conversation is cut to an abrupt end, and you clear your throat as they take you in, standing in front of chaos central continuing to go off behind you.  Do you… look as freshly disheveled as you are?  You’re not supposed to be here, you know, but hopefully the only strange thing is your presence itself and not anything concerning your appearance.

“Nerida,” the older lady suddenly announces, the name alone holding so much expectation, and the younglings missing their candy have now turned their ire towards you and the crinkly food wrapper hidden in your fist.  “What is the meaning of this?”

“Ah, yeah,” you stand up a little straighter, letting the chocolate casually fall out of your grip behind you, and a stampede of feet suddenly kick up to recover it.  It’s fine, nobody will know, it’s fine.  “It’s just…”  Your head tips behind you to the cause of the uproar, feeling a bit sheepish yet so incredibly fond.  “My… kid.”

Sister Drya stares at you for a few seconds, before tipping sideways and staring at the culprit.  “That is your child?”

You turn around just in time to see him, now abandoned by the angry mob of children, finally notice you.  All of a sudden, his pitch black eyes light up something bright and sunshiney, and you just start beaming in return.  What an adorable little creature, apple of your eye and pain of your ass.

“Yep,” you sigh, dropping into a squat and watching him barrel towards you, catching him right before he can trip over his brown potato sack and scooping him up into your arms.  “Hiya, bug,” you murmur with a grin, lifting back up and plopping him in his favorite spot in the universe—your left hip.  “You making friends?”

He giggles and it’s like sparkles and bubbles fill the room instead, wrapping tiny arms around the largest surface area he can get and clinging.  He laughs with a tiny open mouth, bless him, clearly not understanding the sarcasm, and suddenly your eyes feel just the slightest bit wet.  No, you’re not crying, don’t be fucking ridiculous, but you missed him like hell and he’s just the cutest fucking thing—why do you feel like crying?

“Sorry about that,” you apologize to the two women while slowly turning around, brushing your thumb over one of his cheeks and smiling as it squishes.  “He’s… uh.  Not great at sharing.  We’ll work on it.”

Takes after his dad, you purposefully leave out, just a different kind of sharing.  Din hasn’t shown you his full face yet and the kid performs magic tricks to taunt a roomful of children a fraction of his age for a single piece of chocolate, completely different kind of sharing.

Sister Drya says something in response, but when you look up to address her, all you see is Din standing silently behind her and Naydee, slowly dropping his hand from his helmet to his side.  They don’t seem to notice he’s there and you automatically try your best to pay attention to the Sister speaking to you, but your eyes get caught on the silver reflecting in the dim light beyond.  Fuck, he’s a presence.  An immediate distraction, taking all your focus with a single glimpse.  Seeing him fully armored again, staring at you from the silent shadows behind everything… you melt a little bit, knowing that you’ve seen more of what’s underneath than anyone.  Your shoulders settle and your entire body burns warm, wobbly like the air around a fire, and one of the kid’s hands leaves you to reach out towards his dad.

You watch the metallic helmet tilt sideways after a moment, saying everything without saying anything.  Come on, make up an excuse, let’s get out of here.

Looking at him in the quiet shadows, you’re reminded once again about how much you love him, how much softness you have inside you for a man so hard, so guarded.  And, for the first time, a voice in your head finishes a poem you didn’t realize you were writing, adding its own verse and bringing everything back around to the beginning.  He loves you, too.  How much he lets his guard down for you, the way he’s revealed more of his face to you than not.  You love each other.  You’re family.

So, all at once, you decide to mess with him, because that’s what family does best.

“Don’t be shy, come say hello,” you suddenly urge his silent figure, taking a step forward and speaking directly to him.  “Sister Drya, Naydee, I’d like to introduce you to my—”

It’s remarkable, you see it happen in front of you.  Like he has powers of his own, Din just literally fucking disappears.  Like magic, he’s nowhere to be found within a blink of an eye.  You know he’s capable of it; he’s done it plenty of times during the chase just to fuck with your head, but you’re staring straight at him when it happens this time and it might just be the funniest fucking thing you’ve ever seen him do.

Sister Drya and Naydee both turn around to an empty hallway bathed in shadows and you laugh.  A deep, shameless, loud belly laugh.  Where the fuck did he go so quick?  You were staring straight at him and you have no fucking clue.  He’s just out, and you’re left alone with his child and the unspoken understanding that he’ll just catch up with you later.

You’re giggling even as you shake your head and give the women your genuine thanks for keeping you and feeding you these past few days, grabbing your backpack with all your belongings and eventually using three green fingers to wave goodbye to them.  The very first thing Din says when he seamlessly joins you outside the Keja later is, “That wasn’t funny,” which just makes you laugh harder.

***

About a half hour has passed, and you’re walking along a dirt road, cradling a very happy baby in your arms and giving the grown man next to you an incredibly hard time.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, your back twinging slightly at the way you’re leaning about as sideways as you can get without falling over.  You think you’re basically just the hypotenuse between the ground and Din, who easily supports almost your entire weight with your backpack slung around his far shoulder and readily allows you to rest against him.

“They’re fine,” he grumbles in response, squeezing you tight to his side.  You just have to focus on moving your feet; it’s like he’s practically carrying your upper-half anyways.  “I gave them the night off.”

“You stuffed them in a closet,” you hiss, feeling his shoulder shrug under your cheek.

“I gave them the robe back,” he says, not really defending himself and more just throwing it out there to see if it helps any.  “I’m sure someone’s found them by now, they’re fine.”

Your eyes suddenly go wide, absolutely mortified at the thought.  “Wait.  What do you mean you gave the robe back?”

He shrugs once more, apparently not seeing the problem yet.  “I borrowed it, so I gave it back after I put my armor back on.”

If you could plant your feet on the dirt road and screech to a halt, you would, but all your weight is already resting on him and you’re working solely off his forward movement.  You just hope your tone holds the same amount of shocked disapproval your body language would’ve conveyed if you weren’t so completely attached to his hip like a parasite he adores.

“You fucked me wearing it, though.”  Your voice is strangely flat, so fucking confused and horrified by the mental image of him just tossing the soiled garments haphazardly somewhere in the temple behind you, or even worse, leaving them somewhere respectful, and Din soon stops in the middle of the deserted road.

“Oh,” is all he says, emotionless and blank through the modulator.  Did he not even consider this?

“I had to promise them I was a virgin just to sleep there, you know,” you admit, and you can tell that’s brand new information to him with how still he goes as you continue to lean against him.  You’re getting the feeling that he probably knows a lot more about your experiences on this moon than you think he does, but can tell that this is brand new information to him.  “And you locked three of their holy men in a closet, chased me across the temple grounds, fucked me in one of their robes, and then.  You gave it.  Back.”

Din stays perfectly silent for quite some time.  You can never go back to that place, you know this for a fact.  You’re banned forever now, it’s what you deserve.

Never one to be outdone but not actually having anything to say for himself, Din suddenly decides to just scoop you into his arms and boost up into the sky without a single word like an actual fucking maniac.

You squeal and damn near drop the baby because of it, but he cinches you tight to his chest and refuses to loosen with your struggle.  Eventually, after you realize he’s completely locked you in and you won’t fall to your death with this poor innocent child in your arms, you glance over the shiny pauldron on his shoulder and watch the kid’s crib disappear by the abandoned road as Din takes you higher and higher.

The crib—he forgot the crib—

“D-Din,” you stammer out through the whistling air, stiff as a board.  Stars, you have such a different sense of adventure than him; an explorer and a daredevil, one who gets a thrill from discovering the existence of the edge of a cliff and one who’ll take a running dive off of it without thinking twice.  He’s hit with blaster fire some days, he faces down death completely fearless like it owes him one every single time, and you’re stiff as a fucking board while he carries you through the sky.  It’s stunning up here, it’s exciting and wonderful, but you’re so scared that you can barely even look.  He’s giving you the most fantastical view, everything your budding adventurous streak could ever ask for, and your terror is crushing.  It would be different if you could hold on, but you’re responsible for not letting the baby slip through your arms and you just have to trust that he won’t let you slip through his.

You raise your voice.  “Din?!”

“I won’t drop you,” he automatically reassures, and well you sure as fuck hope not, but there’s something else.

“What about the crib?”  You call out over the wind whipping, tucking the baby tight to your chest and settling your hands over his ears to avoid them flapping and whacking you repeatedly in the chin.

“We’ll come back for it,” he responds, just as easily.  Maker, you wish decision-making came that easy to you, that commitment and choice should be so simple as to just fly away from things on the ground and promise out loud to come back for them.  You know he will, but still, his spontaneity shocks you after spending the past week thinking every decision through meticulously, and you’re taken aback by the casualness of it all while soaring through the sky, committing such spectacular feats without a single thought beyond it.

Soon—incredibly soon, which honestly kind of blows your mind—you spot Nariss glowing in the distance and then you’re flying overtop of the city, slowly dropping altitude in the middle of a quiet little side street.

Din carefully allows your feet to settle on the ground before letting go, but you still stumble a bit stupidly after flying so high without any sort of safety measure besides him, prioritizing the steadiness of the baby in your arms instead of your feet underneath you.  His gloves catch at your clumsy body and pull you along with him without another word, leading you out of the quiet alley and into the middle of a beautiful, luminescent street.

What’s he doing?  He seems slightly hurried, and you’re clueless but you go with it, clamoring along behind him to wherever he’s leading you.

Though, you suddenly remember one of the very last things you told him last night right before he steps up in front of a vendor.

“Caf,” Din grunts, sliding a few credits towards the man standing behind the counter. “The… biggest one you have.”

Okay, well.  You could just about fucking cry.

“Y’sure?” The vendor asks skeptically, jerking his head at the large thermos behind him.  He’s balding, wearing a white outfit with his eyes scrunched up and forehead sweaty, likely working all day.  “It ain’t fresh.  Closin’ up soon, was just about to trash it and go home.”

The helmet turns to gauge your response to the news, the sharp angles and contours looking so sleek and dangerous as they reflect the colorful lamplights, but just filling you with comfort beyond anything in the entire galaxy.  He’ll take that armor off for you tonight and you’ll sleep next to him.  He’ll call you by your given name, or the fond name he’s given you, and you’ll cuddle your baby on a metal floor in hyperspace with him, and all will be well.  Even if he needs to leave again soon—even if you don’t get to go with him, you’ll always have these small eternities with each other, and that’s more enough for you now.

You’re completely zoned out while staring at him, and Din turns back to the vendor before you can even remember the conflict he was attempting to defer to you.

“Yeah, just empty the whole thing in there for her,” he mutters, and you want to marry him.  It’s been a long week, and in your haze and delight of being with him in this gorgeous setting, your brain turns to cavewoman mush.  Big man, makes me happy.  Strong man, loves me, knows me.  Provider, makes me feel good, protector, loves me.

Din hands you the large cup of steaming caffeine, clueless to your grunted inner monologue but knowing better than to reach out and grab the kid from your other arm.  You’re just fine like this, hands full, the little frog snuggled up against your side and blinking up at your face instead of any of the shiny or glowing things around you.  When you look down at him, you can see the world through his eyes—quite literally, they’re reflective and gigantic—and his father’s hand quickly finds its preferred spot on your lower back.

“Try to drink it quick,” Din advises you gruffly, pulling you snug into his side and sloshing the big cupful of piping hot liquid in your hand.

“It’s a thousand degrees,” you protest, trying to balance your three favorite things in the universe all begging for your direct attention at once.  “It has to cool down.”

He gives a dismissive hm in response, and you frown even as your heart soars with how tightly he’s gripping you, how little leeway you have to even move without him.  Part of you is so thrilled at being reunited with him that you consider snarking something back at him, excitement making you brave.  He could probably chug boiling hot liquid in thirty seconds and doesn’t see the point in letting it sit any longer, and you could make some stupid joke about filtering it through his helmet or having a built in bendy straw but you decide to keep it to yourself.

So then you just stand there together, under stringed lights and flowers everywhere, and he waits.  Holding you glued to his side, completely silent and clearly just waiting for your caf to stop steaming so threateningly in your hand so you can drink it.  For some reason, the fact that he’s wanted by the New Republic doesn’t really register at this second—you’re not looking for cops, though he may be.  You’re just lost in this beautiful, fancy city that’s on the edge of finally quieting down after a long day, and you’d like to see more of it with him next to you.

“Well, do you wanna just…”  You ask, tilting your head around at all the vendors.  “Shop around for a bit?”

“Shop… around,” Din repeats slowly, sounding the words out like they’re not common Basic.  Admittedly, they do sit a bit awkward in his voice when put together like that, describing a phenomena he’s likely never even considered a thing before, but it’s so fucking pretty here and you’d like to show him something this time instead of the other way around.

“Yeah, like,” you shrug a shoulder, tipping your head in a random direction.  Anywhere, you’ll go literally anywhere with him, the three of you can go explore.  “Just wander around, and look at all the pretty things.”

From where you’re standing right now, you can already see glittering crystals and jewels being sold at the tent across the street, there’s a booth dedicated entirely to floral arrangements and crowns next to it, you can hear a distant quartet playing melodically in the distance and a couple is being painted by an artist on the corner.  Bars are in full swing at this point, as if they weren’t all day, and even though the merchandise is all different, the multicolored tents look slightly similar when they’re underlit with multicolored lights.  It’s less slightly lively than it was in the daytime, but also… more beautiful, in a sense.  Muted, softer, more romantic.

“I don’t have any more credits,” Din admits casually, finally turning to look around at everything.  You get the feeling that he’s just now seeing it, even after spending the entire day here.  “That stale caf was the last of it.”

Money well fucking spent, you can assure him of that.

“It’s okay,” you tell him automatically, gently bumping your hip into his.  “We don’t need credits, we can just look.”

So that’s what you do.  Even though it’s completely not his fucking style, for the next hour or so, you just walk around downtown with him and sip your caf, looking at anything and everything new and experiencing it with him.  At first, you think he’s just entertaining you, following you while you discover new streets and attractions, but then he points out different things and you know he's looking, too.  There are large animals harnessed up and pulling carts for people to ride, there's an enormous spinning wheel set up in the distance, its colorful lights flickering out as soon as you ask what the fuck that is and why anyone would ever get inside one.

You eventually end up finishing your caf around the time he’s leading you back through a quiet, abandoned alleyway, and you hand him the empty cup to throw away in one of the trash cans on the corner.  The conversation has faded to a comfortable quiet and you don’t really need to ask—you go willingly, not requiring anything beyond his hands on you and the baby dozing in your arms.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he murmurs, gently sweeping you up into his.  You sigh, glad he’s giving you a moment to prepare yourself this time, holding the sleeping kid securely to your chest and resting your head on his shoulder.  “Let’s go home.”

After you’re comfortable, Din rockets up from the ground and climbs high up into the canvas sky.  He disappears with you and the baby into the pastel clouds above, making it back to the Razor Crest in probably about an hour, maybe less.  You and the baby do nothing more than climb into the comfy floor blankets while Din starts up the engines, and you think you’re dozing off together by the time he makes the pit stop to collect the crib and the jump into hyperspace.

You think he might shower?  You’re not sure—you just know he moves up behind you in bed at one point without any armor, burying his face in your hair while you cuddle the sleepy kid to your chest.  It’s dark in the hull, Din’s palms are bare and warm as they slide around the front of your body and he breathes you in, and there isn’t a single place that can touch you here, not a single place you’d rather be.

Home.

***

@followwhereshegoes​ Thank you for the stunning artwork! 💕To anyone interested in possibly doing an art collab in the future, please message me!!

[thegreyj]

You were my hardest goodbye, now my favorite hello

A/N: OK, so uhh.. this idea has been plaguing me for literally forever - I haven’t been able to write anything since this has been bugging me, so I finally found my writing inspiration and came up with this. Posting it on a whim, did not check the grammar or spelling or really any mistakes, so yay! If you do see any mistakes, be kind to inform me and I can do something. Also published on ao3.

I have an idea for a sort of prequel for this, but I don’t know if I will write it yet. Anyway, here’s this one-shot that most likely will have you in tears - it did make me cry a lot as I was writing. 

Uh, just go read it. Or not. *slowly hides under a blanket*

----

You were my hardest goodbye, now my favorite hello

Aelin was enjoying the nature in silence, sitting on the porch in her favorite spot. The spot where she could swear, she saw the entire world. Her entire world at least. It was the spot where, for many years, she had watched the seasons change slowly, coloring the world, each time making a new masterpiece. Every color, Aelin hoped would be the most incredible deep pine green with a special spark. Her favorite color since... well, since forever really. Ever since she first looked into the beautiful eyes of the love of her life, she knew no other color would ever be better.

The summer was changing to fall, you could see some of the leaves turn into beautiful yellows, shades of orange and brown. A wonderful new painting to add to her memory. Going through her memories, some hurt more than others. For example, Aelin missed seeing the little feet run around in the short grass, the giggles the tiny humans made when someone chased the kids. Fleetfoot, her loyal companion had passed a long, long time ago, but she hadn’t taken on a new dog. She couldn’t. Just as she hadn’t... never mind.

Aelin was softly humming the song of her first dance with the love of her life. Rowan. That was a memory that hurt most, still after all these years. But at the same time, they were the best memories, both bringing tears to her eyes and a smile on her face. Many things had brought smiles on her face during the years, but not so many tears, which she was quite glad of. She just hoped that she could’ve shared some of the most beautiful memories with her love, but that hadn’t been a possibility in this life. Maybe the next one, as Aelin was sure Rowan would be her one and only in each life she was given. Soulmates, someone might say.

A soft breeze tickled Aelin’s face, making her graying hair blow around slightly. Aelin smiled, remembering when Rowan used to wake her up with a soft blow on the face, following with the tiniest kisses. Or her kids waking her up with a not-so-soft raspberry in the ear. Both instances so different, yet some of the most cherished moments of her life. Oh, what she would do to get even just one more moment like that.

But alas, Aelin had been living by herself for quite some time now. Aedion and Lysandra visited occasionally, but they were old as well, so staying home was more of a comfort these days. Calls were more likely to happen between the trio. Aelin’s children now had children of their own, so visits weren’t too easy to make happen, but she didn’t mind. She loved getting to see pictures and see them whenever they did visit. Nana Aelin still couldn’t cook at all, but all the grandkids thought she baked the best cookies! No one needed to know the cookies came from frozen dough, where Aelin simply added a pinch of ground cardamom. Rowan probably would’ve laughed at her and whipped up some incredible concoction with healthier values.

It wasn’t often Aelin felt lonely. She quite enjoyed the quiet and being alone. Reading under a blanket in her favorite spot, with no distractions – what a way to spend time. One of the grandkids once asked why she preferred that one spot to all the others on the porch. Nana Aelin had a heartfelt answer at the ready.

“It is because from this spot I can see the beautiful garden we have, where you love to play and I have finally found my green thumb. But more importantly, I can see the wonderful rowan tree on that hill as it blooms every year, as it grows bit by bit becoming a magnificent being. That tree is a special tree, for I planted it myself. I visit it often too. But I like to admire it afar, so this spot is perfect. The tree calms me, brings beautiful memories forward. And one day, you will think that too.”

--

The air was getting cooler as the sun was setting slowly. The wonderful colors somehow now were shining with gold too, almost like the golden circle in Aelin’s eyes. Or the gold her hair once was. Aelin’s gaze found the tree once again. From where she was sitting, the sun was in perfect angle going down right behind the tree. Almost as if it was the beginning of a story. Or rather, the end. The most perfect end to that first day of fall.

Aelin didn’t turn her gaze even when she heard the soft steps getting closer. Many times, she had imagined the steps, she knew that gait by heart. She closed her eyes, could almost feel his arms going around her, and hear his whisper in her ear.

“Beautiful.” The word was louder than she usually imagined but didn’t open her eyes. Such a wonderful, deep voice, just like the last time she heard it from the man’s mouth. Her brain immediately searched for that memory, the last time when they had woken up together. She had been pregnant with their third child, her small baby bump showing already and her hair a mess, but Rowan still liked to remind her of her beauty – even when she looked scary after she’d just woken up.

“What, you are going to ignore me now? Not very much like you, love,” the voice was now getting louder, as if the memory was somehow closer. But Aelin couldn’t remember that said in any specific memory.

That fact made Aelin’s gaze snap open. It couldn’t be. Slowly she turned her head and she saw it. Her favorite color. Still the most incredible, wonderful, magnificent deep green she had ever seen. A tear slipped down her face.

“You look like you haven’t aged a day,” Aelin started with a sob. “It’s been sixty-five years.”

“I know, love. You, however, look just as beautiful as the day I first laid my eyes on you,” Rowan replied with a sappy smile.

Aelin couldn’t help but cry, he couldn’t be here. She hadn’t seen him ever since he left when she was just 26 years old. Sixty-five years without the love of her life beside her. Only watching the rowan tree grow. That tree had been growing for those sixty-five years.

“Are you real?” Aelin had to ask. Either she was losing her mind or…

“Yes, love. I promise I’m real.”

“Why are you here now?” Aelin sounded a bit mad, tears still falling down her face.

“I think you know why,” Rowan said, sounding now more serious. Still with a small smile, but very serious. “I’ve been waiting for you all these years. I knew we’d be together once more.”

“I… I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“It’s okay, love. I’m here now.” Aelin could feel the love take over her heart, a smile creeping up on her face. She got one back, the most blinding smile ever. So beautiful. That smile was worth everything to her.

“I missed you. Every day I missed you. You were always the one I loved. I lived my life content, happy even, but you were always in my heart. The love of my life,” she said.

“I know love. I missed you too,” Rowan responded. He didn’t need to say anything more, simply gazed at the gorgeous, glowing teal eyes.

“It was hard, doing it on my own. But I managed, did my best,” Aelin almost sounded apologetic.

“Love, you did wonderfully. You raised our beautiful twin princesses and such a wonderful son. I’m so proud of you. So proud.”

With a new smile, Aelin gazed at the rowan tree up on the hill. She knew why he had come now.

“I- I think I know why you came, Ro,” she said without looking at him.

“Yes, love. You do know,” his voice was now even closer, coming from right next to her. He was standing by the porch steps. Aelin’s chair was at the top of those steps. She brought her eyes to the man she once loved, still loved so much.

“Is it time now?”

“Yes, love. Are you ready?” he asked and offered his hand to her. Aelin rose from her chair, with more ease than she was used to, almost like she was young again. Slowly she brought her hand to his, feeling the warmth he was emanating. He smiled, looked into her eyes and saw her nod. He squeezed her hand tightly and helped her down the steps. Aelin was smiling with Rowan. Together they walked towards the hill, where the sun was almost set now, still showing a few golden rays behind the tree. As the sun dipped entirely below the horizon, you could see the couple take their last steps, until they were gone.

--

The next day, Aelin’s family found her on the porch, still seated in her favorite spot with a smile on her face. She did not wake up anymore, but everyone knew she was happier now than she had been for decades. She was now with Rowan.

-

link to this story on ao3

[imagineabrighterworld]

A Heart Meant for Two

A/N: A poly relationship between Hawks, Dabi, and the reader! Based on the song The Way You Say Hello by tiffi and City Girl ^^

“He said he loved her more than words, so instead of words he gave her flowers to observe”

Hawks was your first boyfriend to ever have a current boyfriend. It was an odd adjustment to get used to sharing your boyfriend with someone else, especially when you first met Dabi. But with some help, you got used to it quickly.

“Flowers?” You eye the bouquet of roses in Keigo’s hands. He had given you flowers before, but these felt like a bribe. You peer at him with suspicious eyes, snapping your book shut. “What did you do?”

“Can’t I buy my best girl some flowers?” The Winged Hero replaces your book with the flowers, flipping through the pages before tossing it to the side. As he sits down next to you, his wing instinctively wraps around you to pull you in.

You press yourself into his side and bury your nose in the flowers, breathing in their sweet scent. A small smile forms on your face. “Hmm.. You're either planning something stupid, or it's Dabi that is doing something stupid.”

“Kid-”

“It's Dabi isn't it.”

From the flash of blue light coming from outside and the nearing of police sirens, you know the answer.

“They were also on sale.” Keigo murmurs under his breath, turning his head to hide his blush of shame as you laugh.

It had been a full four months since you started dating the two of them and Keigo still thought you were woefully ignorant. But you were much more observant than he thought. You knew your other boyfriend was a villain, one that still had a long way to go if he was to be pardoned of his crimes- that is, if he wanted to be pardoned. It was that bit of information that you did stay ignorant on, you didn't want to lose sleep on something like that.

You sigh happily and give your boyfriend a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you.”

Later on, Dabi would return home with another bouquet of flowers. A bit crumpled from him jumping over fences, but still intact.

Your boyfriends were weird, but you loved them.

“She drew him pictures in a card, he said it was tacky and almost broke her heart”

Dabi was not a spoonful of sugar and sometimes he could be a bit blunt. Painfully blunt. How you got used to his silver tipped tongue? You didn't know. Maybe it was a skill you should add onto your resume.

Removing your heels at the front door, you slip on a pair of slippers and sneak your way into the house. Dabi was the only one at home, the main indicator being the lack of Keigo’s jacket on the wall hook while Dabi’s boots were tucked away in the corner.

You duck low as you hear a quiet snoring from the couch in the living room. With soft steps, you creep in on a sleeping Dabi and lean over the cushions to reach him.

His arm was slung over his eyes, his mouth parted slightly as he sighs. Sleeping Dabi was the softest you've seen him. He was always smirks and sharp lines, but when he was asleep he was so.. Soft.

“What do you want?” A low grumble rises from Dabi’s throat. He moves his arm to uncover an eye. The piercing blue cuts through you and leaves you halting in your movements. That's to say, you stopped your hand from removing a card from your purse.

“I wanted to give you something.” You pull out the card and offer it to him.

He shuts his eye and- goes back to sleep?

“Dabi?” You whisper.

He opens his eye again and swipes the paper from your hand with a huff. Dabi sits up before paying your card any mind. Flipping it open, he runs his eyes over the drawings inside.

“Is that supposed to be a cat?”

“It's a human.”

“ It's a human, she says.” Dabi chuckles, laying back down and covering his face with the card, resting his arms on his chest in a mummy like fashion.

"Do you like it?"

"It's garbage, babe."

It stung until you found it tucked away in his chest pocket while doing laundry a week later.

“I know he hates the way she does her hair”

You constantly changed your hairstyle. One day it was braided and the next it was in a high ponytail, or cropped to your chin. Every style looked good on you, but the day you started dying your hair was the day Dabi grew truly frustrated. Though.. Not for long.

“Dabi!” You yell from inside the bathroom, your white towel now shades of purple. “I think I messed up!”

“You think or you know , babe?” He hisses as he nears the bathroom. The lights were far too bright after he had been napping for two hours. It was nighttime, nearly one in the morning according to the clock on the wall. And you were doing your hair? When you had work the very next morning?

As soon as he witnesses your hair, he knows that you know just how badly it went. He holds onto the doorframe and laughs heartily, bending over slightly as his lungs begin to burn.

“Come on it's not that funny!”

“Your towel has more hair dye than your hair does!”

It was true. Your hair was supposed to be a deep indigo, but all that was left after rinsing off the excess dye was a few lavender streaks in your now stained platinum hair. You had went to get it bleached a few days ago and today was the day you were going to color it. How did it go so wrong? The hair dye was rated so highly!

Your face burns with embarrassment. You move to shut the door on him. “If you wont help me I’ll just-”

He moves his hand in time to stop you from closing the door and pushes it open further to let himself through. “I never said that, did I babe?” He breathes in slowly to ease his now stinging lungs. “Sit down, I'll do it for you. I have more practice.”

“I know she hates the way that he pretends to care”

Keigo wasn't without his own flaws. Dabi was the villain, but Keigo came with his own problems. They weren't too big, luckily, but it wasn't always easy being on the receiving end of his disinterest when he was tired.  

You lay in defeat on the floor, your arms spread out with empty clothes hangers on your arms. Tonight was your high school reunion, a day you had been planning for since the email was first sent. The only thing you didn't have planned was your outfit. Which was why you wanted some input from your significant others, but unfortunately only Keigo was home.

Why was it unfortunate? He was tired. And when he was tired he never had much to say, or any energy to do anything other than breathe.

You look up at him from the floor and poke at his wing. “Keigoooo!”

Keigo was laying on his stomach, his right wing drooping downward as he attempted to sleep. “Mmnn..?”

“What do you think about this one?”

“It's beautiful.”

“You're not even looking.”

“Mm..”

“Birdbrain.”

“I know she'll slightly disagree on what he wears”

You loved Dabi’s odd sense of fashion and went shopping with him for matching outfits (something he said he hated, but would never stop you on doing), but Keigo.. had a special sense of fashion that always managed to confuse you. Maybe it was best you stopped going to him for his input.

"You'd think that being in magazine shoots would help you gain a fashion sense." You say from behind a fist, your hand curled to hide your grimace.

"They dress him. What do you think he'll learn?" Dabi chimes in from behind you. He laid on the bed with pillows propping him up in order to watch the show that was Keigo dressing for date night. It was a little game Dabi always liked to observe.

It wasn't that the clothes Keigo had were terrible. If they were in the right color they would look great. But.. they weren't in the right color.

They were every goddamn color in the rainbow.

Keigo looks at the vibrant pink and yellow jacket he was sporting and at the baby blue tank top he had on underneath. Vivid orange and purple peaked out from the windbreaker he wore underneath the jacket and you didn't want to know what other layer of clothing he had on under that .

"I think I look great."

"For a bird, babe." Dabi chuckles. "For a bird, you're a hot ticket."

"But not for a human Kei." You walk behind him and tug at the jacket. “Let’s just go with the other outfit.”

As it turned out, Keigo did have more in common with birds than just his wings. Bright colors were just as alluring to him as a bowl of seeds was for a sparrow. You kept this in mind for the next time you went shopping.

“I know he chokes when she sprays too much perfume in the air”

Your boyfriends knew they were difficult and could be major pains in the ass, but for once they would appreciate it if you didn't try killing them with your perfume. They knew it wasn't intentional, but how could you not notice the whole house smelled like you?  

“Question.” Dabi rests his chin on top of your head while looking at you in the mirror. “You know what my quirk is, right?”

“I do.”

“And you know what fire does when in contact with alcohol, right?”

Now you look up at him, squinting your eyes at him as you lower your brush onto the sink counter. “Yes.. it's basic safety measures. Alcohol is extremely flammable.”

“Do you know what perfume has?” Your boyfriend smirks. He curls a lock of your hair around his finger and gives it a small tug.

You slap his hand away and turn around to look at him directly. You cross your arms and lean against the counter. He was being coy, but it was too early in the morning for this. He never stalled you from getting ready to go to work. “It has alcohol. What about it?”

He cages you in his arms, leaning in and letting a flicker of blue flame light the side of his face. But unlike usual, blue flames burst in the air for a split second, the sudden flash of heat startling you enough to bump into him as you jump away from the counter. Dabi turns off his flames and pecks you on the cheek.

“Unless you want the house to burn down, I'd stop spraying so much perfume, babe.”

After work you end up buying an alcohol-free perfume.

“But she likes the way it feels when he's right there”

After the third attempt at sleeping in the same queen sized bed at the same time, Keigo and Dabi decided to buy a new bed without you knowing. It went well until you came home early to them attempting to assemble the frame without instructions. But once it was put together and finished, you had to admit you liked the result.

“No more facefuls of feathers!” You squeal with joy as you leap onto the bed and spread your arms out, enjoying the spaciousness of it all.

Dabi sits down on your left while Keigo takes your right. He flicks your forehead to catch your attention and motions for you to tuck in your arm so he could lay down next to you. “Now you get why he doesn’t get to sleep in the middle?” He pulls you into a hug while flipping Keigo off from over your shoulder.

Keigo flops onto the bed, his wings spread out and covering the two of you like a tarp. “You're just jealous baby.”

You wriggle around and lay with your back against Dabi’s chest. Pushing his wing away, you stick your tongue out at Keigo. “Jealous of being attracted to stop signs?”

“It's a sexy red.”

“What about mirrors?”

“I’m a sexy man.”

“Birdbrain.” Keigo huffs and moves closer to the both of you, wrapping his wing to engulf the both of you. “The bed was my idea you know.”

“I know.” You admit. “Dabi doesn't care if he smooshes us to death.”

“Ouch.” Dabi murmurs from your hair.

It's not long after that you fall asleep in their arms, completely content to spend the rest of your night between the two of them. But when the winter came, you and Keigo agreed to keep Dabi in the middle to act as a heater.

“She loves him so much it's absurd”

It was winter when your boys began to grow more busy. Sometimes you would go to sleep alone, but you didn't let it get to you. You knew they visited the house when they could. What else would explain the endless supply of your favorite flowers in vases by the window or boxes of your favorite chocolates on the table when they weren't there when you left? The nights you did get to see them, you enjoyed their presence to the fullest.

Keigo squeezes his eyes shut in annoyance as he hears his phone ringing once more. It was the third time in a row, and he knew he couldn't go on ignoring it anymore. Being a hero meant sacrificing down time. It meant sacrificing time with you.

“Kei.”

“Yeah?”

“It's okay.” You keep your eyes shut as you trace swirls along his back in the area between his wings. “I understand you need to leave.” You knew you couldn’t keep him forever. It wasn't right. People needed him. He saved people. It was like keeping a firefighter from putting out a fire right in front of him. If they were calling Keigo so adamantly then it must be important.

Keigo presses a kiss to your temple and releases his hold on you, letting you lay on your back as he tugs on his jacket and prepares to exit the room.

“I love you.” You say from under the still warm blankets.

“I love you too.” He smiles from over his shoulder, eyes pained.

What did he do to deserve you?

“He thinks it's cute that her singing is the worst he's ever heard”

After a whole month away from the two of you, Dabi had to admit that he missed Keigo’s stupid face and your singing. Was it good singing? No. But did he miss seeing you enjoy yourself? Yeah. Yeah he did.  

Dabi sat outside the house, listening to your singing from his spot under the tree. He had yet to enter the house and opted instead to stay under the shade. He would have to leave again soon, so he saw no point in raising your hopes only to let you down.

A feather jabs at him from behind.

“You should go in and see her. She misses you.” Keigo lands beside him, lifting his goggles from his face. He crouches in front of him, running his gloved fingers through Dabi’s hair. “We both miss you.”

Dabi leans into his touch. How many times did he find himself missing it? Keigo was his first love after such a long time, but now there was you too. You both made him weak.

“I’ll be home soon.”

“And the way she’ll close her eyes, when she's nervous and just about to cry”

Keigo and Dabi didn't always agree on everything. That was a given when one was a hero dating a villain. But what they constantly agreed on was making sure you were kept out of the fray.  

The shopping district was utterly decimated and all you felt was heat. A sweltering heat that couldn't be put out. Blue flames surrounded you on all sides, flames you knew instinctively were Dabi's.

"What's going on?!" You yell as debris falls around you, Dabi was just there- you could've sworn you saw him! It had to be him! Where else did the flames come from?

A hand wraps around your bicep and pulls you upward, the familiar sight of red wings takes up your vision as you look at Keigo. He was covered in ash and his goggles were cracked in half atop his head. He squinted through the smoke that was building in the air.

"The League is here. I'm getting you home."

"What about Dabi?! He's here, we need to bring him home too!" You look behind you at the structure that began to cave in on itself, all you could see was blue. "He's in there!"

"And so is Shigaraki! You can't be here kid!"

"We cant leave him! Please Keigo!" Tears blur your vision as all you can think about was how burnt Dabi's skin already was. What would being in the center of that fire do to him then? What kind of state would he return to you in?

"I'm sorry kid.. He's the one who warned me you were there.."

“He likes the way she plays songs on repeat”

Keigo  watched as you grew more and more despondent, shutting down as more time passed that Dabi was gone. Japan was in an uproar, and it kept calling him back to patch it up each time villains showed. Japan was like an open wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. However, this changes one day as he comes home to hearing the sound of music blasting on your speakers.

Lights were strung up from the front door to the living room to the bedrooms, fairy lights dotted every inch of the house. Keigo tucked his wings in taunt to his body to keep them from getting tangled in the haphazardly placed lights. While he loved bright colors, it was almost too much for his eyes. Where were you?

"Kid?" He calls out, ducking underneath bluebell lights. "Please tell me you're still alive in here?"

The song on the speaker repeated on itself, which was odd with how clunky it sounded, but he learned to like it once he found you.

If choppy music was what it took to bring a smile back on your face, it was worth it.

He found you taping up lights in the bathroom while singing under your breath, mascara smudged but a smile still on your face. You look at him with your hundred gigawatt smile. It threw him for a loop, the sudden hope in your eyes when only yesterday you were crying yourself to sleep.

"Its for when he comes back. Want to help me?"

Keigo takes the loop of lights from your hands and nods.

"Make some room kid."

“He likes the way they flow together like electricity”

Covering the house in Christmas lights was actually a fun distraction for the both of you while Dabi was gone. Keigo was in charge of the higher lights that covered the rooftop, but you had plenty of fun stringing them around the plants surrounding the house. After finishing your impromptu decorating, you both decide to spend the rest of the night in the living room.

"Just follow my steps, baby."

"If I followed you I'd end up on my face." You laugh while holding onto his shoulders as you both hovered in the air, his wings flared open to keep you both afloat. What steps was he even talking about? For the past ten minutes he just held you both up and spun in a lazy circle. His wings were doing all the work while his feet did nothing.

"I’ll make you soar kid." He winks at you. "One day you'll see. I’ll take you to dance sessions and everything."

"I'll hold you to it."

“He likes her ringtone and the way she'll say hello”

When it came to being part of the League, Dabi had to be careful on what information he let loose. They couldn't know about his relationships. If Shigaraki knew then he would most definitely use it to his advantage. Dabi had two weak points and that was you and Keigo. But when he was out with the LoV, he had his ways of being with you.  

“Hello! This is my voicemail, which means I'm probably busy right now. Leave a message and I'll get back to you ASAP! Have a good day!”

Dabi holds his phone limply in his hand, looking up at the cracking ceiling of the League's current hideout. He had to make face for now, which meant staying away from you and Keigo for a while. Still, he had his phone, one thing he was glad Giran gave him after he burnt his old one accidentally. He knew you were busy, and he had no intention of talking to you while on the job, but to hear your voice was enough for him.

Weeks later, he welcomes the sound of your voice as you greet him, receiving him back into the house with open arms.

"Whats with all lights?" He laughs in response to your face nuzzling into his chest and feathers lifting the both of you to Keigo who stood in the doorway.

"Its to a bright future."

“He likes the way her hands feel even if they're cold”

Dabi couldn't blame you for having cold hands, but he found it cute how you were so insecure about being cold all the time. He loved how you latched onto him rather than Keigo when the temperature began to drop. Maybe it was the fact that he was gone for so long that he didn't mind being clung to. But somehow he found himself in situations he wasn't sure how to handle.

“How long am I going to be in the middle for?” He mumbles under his breath as the two of you cling to him from underneath piles of blankets.

“Until winter is gone.” You state simply.

“It isn't winter yet.”

“Did she stutter?” Keigo grumbles from under the sheets.

Eventually he would grow tired of it, but for now he let the two of you do what you wanted. He was home after all.

“And when she’s away from him, she’s away from home”

After two years of dating you knew you could never return to being without your boys. They were yours.

You reach upward, feeling the familiar rough texture of Dabi's scars along his neck and under his eyes. You drag your your thumb softly under his eye, breathing in his scent. From behind you, you could feel Keigo's breath fanning across your neck.

It was a lazy day today. No one needed them, no one needed you, it was just you and them. How long would the peace last? How long until one of your boys were called away? How long until one of them lost a battle?

No, you wouldn't think of that. For now, it was just you and them.

And that was alright with you.

[siren-dragon]

Cultural Studies -- The Cat Returns fanfic

Hello again, guess who wrote another one-shot! Anyway, this prompt came to me (along with several others, lol) so I decided to write something for it. Also, big thanks to everyone who enjoyed my first story. Also, Haru’s outfit is based on the yukata from the Love Nikki game and I may draw something for this story at a later date. Anyway, please enjoy!

AO3 story link    Tagging: @mysticsoulgirl

Prompt: Summer Fireworks Festival

=======================================================

Though the Sanctuary, and by extension the Cat Bureau itself, experienced many a visitor wishing for assistance with one thing or another- it wasn’t exactly a stationary place. True, anyone could follow Muta from the Crossroads and through the twists and turns of Japan’s alleys to locate the entryway arch, but that wasn’t truly the Bureau’s physical location. Anyone who was in need could find the Sanctuary entrance, all they had to do was merely look for it. So, while Baron was not unaccustomed to a variety of clients (even if the quantity seemed to have diminish over the years), it was always a study in new cultures when a guest appeared. Even when the cat figurine made a point to be open and courteous to a visitor, there were often a few things he gained new knowledge of.

“A fireworks festival? I’m afraid I’ve not heard of such a thing before.” He spoke, handing Haru a now size-appropriate cup thanks to the Bureau’s magic.

The dark brunette offered a small word of thanks and a bright smile before continuing. “Really? Oh, they’re great fun. Originally it was started as a festival for the dead; to mourn the lost one while celebrating life. But nowadays it’s just a fun activity to watch while eating festival food with friends.”

“Did I hear someone mention food?” Muta spoke, closing the front door behind him. “Hey Chicky, you bring any snacks with you today?”

From the upstairs balcony came a snort of displeasure. “You ever think of anything aside from your stomach,” Toto drawled, rolling his eyes at the cat’s one-track mind.

“What was that birdbrain?!”

“Oh, come on, think of a new insult piggy-cat!”

Before the fight could escalate anymore Haru, now a more convenient size for Baron’s home, rose from her seat on the sofa and lifted a bag where the scent of sugar and fresh fruit wafted throughout the room. “If you two are going to fight, then Baron and I will eat this by ourselves- including the mulberries I got special for you Toto.”

Both cat and crow immediately silenced themselves before tossing a glare at the other, “You got lucky, big chicken.”

“Sure thing, marshmallow.”

Baron sighed, taking out the necessary cutlery before Muta decided to forego the use of utensils. “Muta, have you experienced such festivals in the Human Realm?”

“What festivals?”

“The fireworks festival coming up this weekend,” Haru clarified as she handed Toto the collection of mulberries she brought.

It was here that the ex-con feline grinned, “oh yeah. Gotta love summer festivals in Japan with all their fried food and sweets. Best time to be a cat.”

Toto snickered, “why am I not surprised; you only think from your stomach.”

“Shut up!”

“There’s also games where you can win prizes and some shops as well. And at the end there is large fireworks show everyone watches to celebrate the summer season.” It was here that Haru’s excited smile seemed to dim slightly, “I was going to go with Hiromi, but she has a family reunion to attend. And my Mom will be out of town during that weekend- so I’ll just be watching it from my house.”

As a figurine being made out of wood, anything associated with fire was typically something Baron tried to actively avoid. And while he would deny it fervently later onto a rather smug looking Muta and Toto, the slightly disheartened expression on Haru’s face sent a rather unpleasant sensation through his chest sent nearly all thoughts of self-preservation out the window. It reminded him of their previous adventure in the Cat Kingdom; with her clad in a fine, pale-yellow gown and wearing a look of absolute despair despite it having been her so called “wedding day”. And so, it was not 2 seconds later that he found the words tumbling from his lips without any kind of second thought.

“Perhaps we can accompany you to this festival instead, Haru.”

That certainly caused the brunette to stare at him in surprise, yet a spark of joy danced within her caramel eyes. “Really? You guys would want to go with me?”

“Hey, if there’s food then you can count me in.” Muta shrugged, finishing his slice of chiffon cake.

Toto nodded, “I’m sure it’d be a great experience; what with the lack of clients to the Bureau.”

Haru beamed brightly with sheer delight, “Thank you everyone, I’m sure you all will love it!”

When Haru had finally left for the day, a definite spring in her step, Muta couldn’t help but turn a sly grin to his fellow feline. “Well, that was rather generous of you to volunteer us for something you didn’t even know about till 30 minutes ago.”

“I’m not sure what you are inquiring Muta. It was quite clear that Miss Haru was looking forward to this festival and it would be unbecoming of a gentleman to allow her to merely remain home alone and miss the event entirely.”

Toto nodded, “I have to say, I agree with Baron on this one. But I don’t think it was that difficult to persuade you after that melancholic expression crossed her face.”

Baron gave a displeased frown to his colleague’s rambunctious laughter, which did nothing to hide the slight tint of pink beneath his cream-colored fur. Honestly, since when was chivalrous behavior become a source of mockery? And yet… the sight of Haru’s joyful smile was more than worth it.

“So, are you going to wear a yukata?”

“A what?”

That answer only made the hefty white cat laugh louder.

 ======================================================

“Muta… are you quite sure that this garment is placed on correctly.”

“If the picture is anything to go by, then yeah. Besides; you can’t wear a suit with tails to a summer festival- you’ll stick out too much.” The large cat answered, glancing down at the newspaper advertisement in his hands before looking back to his much shorter friend. “Hmm, I think that’s right.”

“You idiot, tie for the sash is supposed to be in the back.” Toto commented, taking the advertisement with his beak to compare the image to Baron’s new attire. “See, there isn’t a giant bow in the front.”

“Okay first, it’s called an obi and second, stop butting in birdbrain!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you knew what you were doing, fluff-ball!”

Baron was going to attempt to silence their bickering before the sash about his waist loosened slightly causing the robe to flutter open and expose part of his chest and collarbone before the ginger feline took hold of the garment’s sides and quickly held them closed. He briefly wondered if it would perhaps be better to merely wear his typical suit before a knock sounded on the door- halting Muta and Toto’s argument. The crow quickly flew toward the door and swiftly opened the door to reveal Haru. She too was clad in a traditional yukata of navy blue with ivory and cream-colored stars swirling around a crescent moon at the hem of the dress before continuing upward. The sash wrapped around her waist took on a pale blue color while the right sleeve of her dress shifted colors; with the stars now dark and the fabric white shade. Though her hair was cut short, it was still pinned back by a blue, yellow, and orange silk flower with the latter two colors matching the shade of his own fur. To be perfectly honest, she looked quite breath-taking.

“Baron are you wearing a yukata?” She grinned, noticing his change of attire immediately which only made the statuette cling to the folds of the loosened robe all the more tightly. “I didn’t even know you had one!”

“Well, Muta saw fit to inform me this is the traditional attire for a summer festival so it is a recent addition to my wardrobe. However, I seem to be having a bit of trouble actually dressing.” He answered, unable to prevent the sigh from leaving his lips at his current dishevelment.

Haru giggled, placing her small bag on the sofa before approaching him. “Don’t worry, it’s always challenging for a first-timer. Here, you just need a little bit of adjusting…”

Despite his attempt to remain calm at the innocent offer, Baron couldn’t help the heat rushing to his face as Haru approached and began shifting the obi about his waist he had attempted to tie on earlier. He still kept his hand clenched about the folds of the yukata as Haru expertly straightened the robe, to which he gave her a very grateful smile. Soon he was now properly clothed, even wearing the haori properly before Haru stepped back to admire her handy work (though Baron felt a slight twinge of disappointment at her shift away from him). “There we go, a perfect fit.”

“Thank you, Haru. And may I say, you look lovely as well.”

She beamed at his reply as she moved to retrieve her bag. “Thanks Baron. But if you wanted to wear a yukata, I could have helped you find one.”

Muta shook his head, “that would have ruined the surprise Chicky. Plus, nothing was more amusing than watching Baron try to put it on.”

“As always, your assistance is greatly appreciated Muta.” Baron replied dryly, remembering the past hour where both his friends tried to guide him in how to wear the clothes.

As they walked through the archway of the Sanctuary, Muta walked ahead of them now on all fours while Toto took to the skies. However, as soon as Baron exited alongside Haru, he grew till he was once more a head taller than the dark-haired young woman instead of a foot-tall figurine. But the fact that his feline appearance remained gave Haru pause- knowing most would not really take the appearance of a half-cat man kindly (even if people believed it to be a ridiculously realistic mask). But it seemed her thoughts were rather evident on her face, because Baron was quick to assuage her fears. “Do not worry Haru, there is a spell in place masking my real appearance. You are the only one who can see the truth.”

“I didn’t know you can use such spells, Baron.” She asked curiously.

He nodded, offering his arm to her which she gladly accepted. “Yes, though I am afraid they are only temporary. But I thought this would make our evening engagement far more enjoyable without any disturbances from bewildered onlookers.”

“It’s no trouble at all, actually I think it’s a good idea. It does make me curious as to how your disguise looks.”

Baron paused and gestured to the glass window of a shop they were walking past, “see for yourself.”

Turning to the window, Haru looked at Baron’s reflection nearly jumped in alarm upon not seeing the familiar feline characteristics she had come to cherish. Instead, the face of a young man who looked a few years older than herself gazed back at her from the reflection. His hair was a light tawny blonde the same shade as Baron’s fur, perfectly coiffed to suit the Creation’s usual debonair attire. Where once fur and whiskers existed was now fair skin and a rather amused smile taking in her slightly bewildered expression. Yet despite the disguise, Haru took comfort in the fact that Baron’s eyes were still the same shade of mint-green.

“That is rather impressive, if a bit shocking at first.” She laughed a little nervously.

Baron frowned, “does it bother you too much?”

“No, it’s not that,” she answered with a shake of her head before beaming up at him. “I just prefer you the way you are, that’s all.”

It was the second time in the past few days that Baron found his words failing him once again at her kind, yet honest words.

 ======================================================

Perhaps the first thing that caught Baron’s attention were the vibrant banners illuminated by dozens of lights and lanterns. The street was lined with colorful booths, each hosting a different attraction as friends and families traveled back and forth to every single one. It was a rather jarring change from the peace and quiet of the Cat Bureau, but as he glanced down at the excited grin on Haru’s face as she enthusiastically explained each booth’s function, Baron couldn’t help the pleased smile drifting across his face. “So then, what would you recommend we do first?”

“Food, I’m starving!” Muta cried from about their legs before he bolted down the street, causing several people to laugh at the rather large cat obviously following the scent of frying food. “Takoyaki, here I come!”

Haru laughed, “well, food always is a good choice. Though we’d best pace ourselves, festival food is great, but not exactly healthy.”

“Then I shall follow your lead, Haru.” Baron added, glancing around briefly with a bit of confusion drifting across his face, “I must admit, I thought a fireworks festival would have more of that particular attraction.”

“That happens at the end of the night, mainly because it’ll be darker and it’ll give us a chance to see most of the booths before we have to find seats to watch the fireworks. But we’d best find Muta before he manages to pilfer too many snacks.”

Baron chuckled, “I think it’s more of his charming attitude that wins him such favors.”

Haru couldn’t help but laugh at that, and judging from the faint cawing above their heads, Toto heard it as well. “Well, we’d best hurry before that charm gets a bit carried away.”

The couple soon found their way further into the festival and managed to find Muta, who looked rather smug at having charmed a piece of taiyaki from a group of teenage girls. True to her word, Haru managed to procure a few treats for them all to try, ranging from takoyaki to kakigori to some onigiri before they walked to where Toto waited upon a nearby but isolated tree. Muta had nearly claimed all of the takoyaki while Toto took a liking to the plain onigiri and the roasted chestnuts Baron was eating. Though Baron was not overly found of the deep-fried food, he couldn’t deny that the kakigori Haru offered was quite delicious.

As the sun soon sank below the horizon and the sky turned dark with the coming night, many people started moving away from the bright lights of the festival stalls to await the oncoming fireworks display. “We don’t really want to be too close to all the larger crowds, so we’ll stay on the outskirts instead.” Haru informed them, taking a seat beside the grass. “And I wanted to thank you guys again, for coming with me.”

“Nonsense Haru, this was most enjoyable and we were happy to accompany you.”

“Even though you had to forgo your suit?” She replied with a teasing grin.

Baron gave a slightly sheepish look, “I will admit that dressing did pose quite the challenge, but well worth the effort.”

“Even still, thank you for being such a good sport about it. And I’m glad you had a good time.” Haru chimed happily, turning to look at the ever-growing groups awaiting the final event of the festival. “Hopefully we’ll be able to see everything with so many people…”

“Well, we merely need a seat with a view; and I believe I may have a solution.”

“What do you mean by that?”

The ginger gentle-cat only offered her a hand with a secret smile, “Just trust me.”

At the familiar words, Haru rested her hand upon his and watched as the world around them seemed to stretch upward as her height plummeted to its usual size whenever she visited the Bureau. Toto then landed beside them, offering a place upon his back with Baron holding on tightly the Stone Creations black feathers and Haru wrapping her arms about his waist. Once they were situated on the now gigantic crow, Toto rose high into the air (though not before snatching Muta in his claws much to the large cat’s displeasure while muttering something that sounded like “always a showoff.”) before gliding through the evening sky.

They were only flying for a few minutes before a high-pitched whistle sounded only to be followed by a large explosion of white and gold lights as the fireworks show began. Haru watched in silent amazement as they soared the atmosphere as each of the colorful illuminations danced around them like falling stars. She a joyful laugh at sheer sight of the fireworks show from a literal bird’s eye perspective, “alright, now this is a view.”

“I must agree,” Baron added, though it was hard to hear over the sound of the fireworks.

Moving her head forward, Haru placed a gentle kiss upon Baron’s fur-covered cheek before leaning to rest her cheek against his back. “Just for the record, this is the best fireworks festival I’ve ever been to.”

And for the third time in Haru’s presence, Baron found himself at a loss for words as a pleasing warmth started to overcome his face. Yet as he turned to watch the brilliant lights display with the young woman beside him, he had to admit that it certainly was an enjoyable evening.

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 || you and Andy go on a trip to Greece for your birthday and discover the love you have for one another.

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 || fluffy fluff

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 || andy barber × black[birthday girl]!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 || 5.2K

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 || jealousy, some rom com cliches, divorced!andy, i used like six different dividers to match with the storyline so very sorry if that’s unusual to you!

𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔 || past lives by bornes. mariposa by the peach rascals. apricot princess by rex orange country. out like a light by the honey sticks & ricky montgomery

𝒘. 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 || this is a birthday gift for @areyoustchewpid!!!! happy birthday ingrid!!! everyone go wish the birthday girl the best for her special day! 💗 I hope this fic fulfills your dreams of Greece with lawyer daddy and i hope you cherubs enjoy reading this <33

 + p.s || do not repost, republish or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡  

THE GOLDEN FLICKER OF PALE PINK CANDLES CREATE A HOLY CHASTE HUE AGAINST BASHFUL SMILE BRIGHTENING YOUR FACE.

an event that you’ve been expecting all day yet while a firm chestnut table sits underneath your crossed legs cools as a sweetpea and seasalt ocean breeze blows into the dining room your expectations have somewhat been granted and changed. where only a three layer chocolate cake sits between you and Andy, both your lovestruck eyes never leaving each other despite the comet rippling starry sky glimmering from the white paneled windows.

everything is all sparkling, soft pink and golden at this moment.

from the rosy dawned blush that grazes against Andy’s cheeks to the blushy tone of your sundress and beating heart. candles sparkling to life as you and him in the very moment, wax melting in rosy dewdrops just like the fear of allowing these caged emotions to fly free. now they seemed to have been unrestrained by the gold bars of worry, aversion, and self committed rejection.

simple cursive writing made of periwinkle icing contrasts against the dark fudge confection this dearest friend of yours created. this friend who might have been something more in a life way beyond this year and century but as your heart beats in a melody casted by the Muses themselves it pirouettes with the cupid bow lights dancing in Andy’s pools of hopeless paradise. it’s all enough for you to lace your fingers with his-which you do- and wish for something else to spread against your lips besides the cake you both will cut in a minute after you blow your candles.

the words below your cupid struck glance read Happy Birthday Y/n in the divine candlelight, a squeeze of his hand only encourages the rapid pace of your heart to jump and for you to swallow your hesitance. a very same feeling floods Andy’s insides but for the past minutes just sitting directly on the table, lighting your candles and enjoying the meteor shower, he hasn’t kept his promise to himself.

a promise he made for himself since the beginning of today when he discovered how his palms sweat when you neared him and how his heart warmed when you spoke his name and how his soul just sang a different song when you took his hand.

he should say something now, he should tell you how much you mean to him in this different roseate light. maybe you’ll say the same words back and maybe with the rush of the rose glasses besides you both one thing may lead to another but what comes out of his mouth makes him bite his tongue. “I hate to break it to you but wax is getting on the cake,”

those words snap you out of your amour aura, eyes fluttering for a second and smiling afterwards when you see Andy fidgeting with the crystal glass in his large hands. cheeks reddening like ripe strawberries glowing in the warmth of spring, it radiates the space between you both and with an almost whisper to your name he has your hands in his soft palms. “what do you wish for y/n?”

the question makes you swallow the raspberry rose laced lump in your throat. the love potion for an innocent drink still glistens in your glass that rests beside your body but it would spill if you would do the simple action your heart has been caressing your mind to just pull his collar down to smash his lips against yours.

to feel the tender roughness of his bearded cheeks in your palms and his lips molded along with yours in a kiss that would put all sculptured lovers to shame. it’s making you sink and float at the same time but the sparking second that Andy leans down you oblige.

“i’m sorry for not realizing it all those years,” it makes your brows scrunch in slight confusion at the confusion, his cool apricot breath wafting and twinning with your airy exhale when his nose grazes against yours. the heat of the candles underneath your close faces, you raise your hand to cup his face.

“realizing what?” its then did the breath escape your lungs and your heart to stop beating.

seeing her open her eyes the very morning brought a different comfort than to watch her sleep- it was a normal thing to wake up but to experience her lashes fluttering to life to reveal the life in her sun speckled eyes was something for Andy. she rolled over, burying her face in the crispness of white sheets with a lazy grin.

through the honeycomb glass of the white portiéres of the hotel room, the soft sunshine of the province morning streams in and lights the bedchamber. the melodic sound of birdsong and light chatter slowly rouses her awake. Andy is seated in front of the swan feathered colored vanity, combing his hair and keeping the time on track on his watch.

the man had loads planned for you both today, a day planned for you both to be bone tired at the end but still reflecting on the memories and experiences once you laid your head to rest to sleep when it was over. the tapping rhythm of his polished tar black dress shoes fills the room, making you part open your eyelids to see who’s disrupting your peaceful second slumber.

“morning sleeping beauty, happy birthday,” he almost sing-songs, a slight whistle in his voice completely overtaking any fiber of drowsy and sleep riddance that enveloped your mind and body.

“morning Andy and thank you,” you grin with your porcelain smile, stretching your arms while simultaneously lifting your sunkissed legs. arching your back in a firm crane, yearning a deep yawn from you as you savour the sunshine on your ankles and naked shoulders.

“so I have a few things planned today but I thought it would be best to eat breakfast out at the cafe we talked about instead of ordering room service. what do you think?” his eyes focused on you in the mirror and you have no choice but to glance back with your remark weighing on your tongue.

so after a smile that was more than enough to let your childhood friend know that you were along with him for the ride you found yourself ready for your special day. a slightly puffed sleeve and flowy mint green sundress adorns your bodice softly, making you radiant in the morning sun that appears to be a glowing lemon slice across the cloudless skies.

arms securely wrap around Andy’s waist as he guides the scooter the same color of the sparkling sea and reflecting powdered blue vault above. hanging on to him as he brings you both to the tiny yet timeless cafe near the roaring pier of crashing waves and ancient cobblestone streets. the bouquet of large sunflowers that were tenderly hugged tightly between both your bodies are now free in your hold. their sunshine yellow petals sway in the morning breeze and take in the virtuous sunshine that rains in golden streaks on this magical day.

taking your seat near one of the outdoor tables, shaded by the umbrella the same color as the satin banner you both order your first meal as the waiter set your beginning entry of cheese, grapes, croissants and wine on a pine wood board in between you two. street cars come and go, along with passing people looking for special sites of eternal Athens Greece. the ocean bringing a calm sea mist breeze that only adds onto the refreshing and ecstatic tangibility seizing your atoms yet as you both talk about the plans you have for today.

although the words of the waiter coming to refill your tall glasses breaks both an uncontrollable smile and laugh between you both. “couples get a discount,” he spoke and you both had a dime for when you both were mistaken for a couple you’d be swimming in a sea as large as the one that captures your irises and heart.

with his confusion Andy quickly nods along, “yes we’d take that discount thank you,” and the waiter smiles back as he steps away after filling your glasses and informing you about your meal which you both thank back.

“Andy I thought we weren’t gonna take advantage of discounts by pretending we’re a couple anymore,” you broke with a raised brow and Andy only rolled his eyes in any way that wouldn’t ever be taken seriously by anyone despite his job disposition.

“awe come on y/n let's relive old times! do you wanna pay full price when we’ve been doing this for years?” Andy looked at you through a playful demeanor that you only recognize when he’s concocting and getting away with something as seemingly harmless as this.

“i’m not really fond of the backlash when it backfires on us in the end,” you speak as you bite into a butter croissant, the rich pastry practically melting on your tongue. “also you’re making us sound like some sort of Bonnie and Clyde duo. doesn’t look good with that attorney license of yours Barber,” you laugh as you return the same eye roll back as you sit up with your glass in hand.

“remember when I booked us a reservation at that restaurant when we were in college and I freaked out over the bill? I ‘proposed’ to you and once everyone cooed and congratulated us we got our bill cut in half-”

“and I nearly kicked your ass afterwards, yeah Andy my foot is remembering the loss,” you intervene which makes Andy shake with loud laughter enough to make all the other pairs -real couples instead of you sly imposters- stop from their conversations to glance at you two breaking into hysterics whilst eating green grapes and sipping on white wine.

“to be fair we were broke college students! money was tight as hell back then but I didn’t see you complain when I got on my knees and put a ring on your finger. I thought the rhinestone looked very good with your dress that night,” popping a grape in his mouth with a humorous smirk etched on his lips.

“i’m sure you were looking forward to saying that when you gave me a kinder surprise from a candy machine.” rolling your eyes as you bite into another golden croissant, pairing it along with a nibble of creamy cheese that taste heavenly on your tongue.

“alright you can hold that against me I still deserve it,” Andy still remembers the other students in his seminar congratulating him and some who didn’t know about his engagement and divorce to Laurie still believe he’s engaged to you. it was funny and seems like something straight out of the cheesy rom coms he and you used to binge together as bored high schoolers.

that you and him used to scoff and egg on the oblivious main protagonists to just kiss and push away the denial to just be together but amongst all these couples in the morning light at this café it’s you two reliving your movie annoyances. it was hilarious and unfortunately ironic but Andy Barber didn’t see anything or comprehend the knot in your stomach when you took his hand and said something he couldn’t quite hear.

all he was paying attention to in the slow-motion picturesque of your gleaming smile, the sparkle in your deep lashy eyes and how your lips moved so theatrically as you spoke his name.

Andy, Andy, Andy

eyes glossing over in wonder, it was possibly the prettiest thing he’s seen and he’d wish to hear you say his name one more time. heart yearning to just catch your lips movement yet as his mind wedges himself back into reality he finally catches what you’ve been saying.

“Andy our food is here,” you said as the waiter came with your large glass plates of oven baked pizzas. the comforting rich smell of toasted cherry tomatoes, mozzarella cheese and freshly baked dough fill his nostrils. it's enough to cover the lush sweetness of your Dior perfume he loved taking a whiff of when you'd lean over the table to sneakily reach for his grapes and croissants.

“um, yeah thanks for the heads up,” he spoke in almost a broken sense of charisma compared to his boyish behavior minutes ago but it’s just now that’s Andy denying the feeling-

the seed of amorous that had been planted in his heart a long ago that’s beginning to sprout now.

after roaming the creaky wooden piers with the sunshine twining divinely against your hair and every inch of revealed baby soft skin. a clementine in his hands and an apricot in yours, feeding the peels to the doves that rest besides the ancient stools as Andy give hands you cardinal slice after citrusy cardinal slice.

dangling both your legs over the docks and enjoying the way the rippling waves brushed against your curling toes. sweet orange and apricot filling your mouths like the sun spreading its orange and blush provenance across the aqua waters. lonely fingers fondle with your citrus fruits that you bought with wo shiny coins from a passing vender in a straw sunhat.

savoring the ocean blue and the sunny sky revealing the cotton white clouds that dot like dollops of whipping cream upon it. the sea breeze dancing with strand hairs, the topic of a greenhouse visit sparks and a sense of adventure rushes though bloodstream. within a matter of seconds you both race to hop back on the forget-me-not scooter.

inciting a school children challenge on who’s going to get there first and with the swiftness of putting your sandals back on and running against the mossy and dandelion cracked cobblestone had you seated on the bike. “I win,” you grin and of course Andy just gives you a fauxly hurt demeanor.

“you cheated,” you only hum back at his petty exchange, playing along for his sentiment until he sighs in his defeat. with the engine starting off you and him race to the glass palace that is the greenhouse.

a golden rimmed and sea mist colored empire, it stood out to you when touring the tiny city of colorful roof houses and marketplaces. mossy vines and leafy thorned shrubbery beautifully frame the interior pillars as rich golden sunlight fill in the glassy castle. cement molds create the railing for the lily pad and swan lotuses of the man made ponds. an occasional jasmine frog leaps from pad to pad as the milky pink and yellow koi’s swim about in the shadowy water.

exotic trees and wild plants bunch throughout the establishment, creating shade against the Apollo’s heavy rays as Andy lifts his head to marvel these large and tall works of Artemis. of course, with your polaroid camera you found in the rummage of your closet (that you haven't used since senior year of college) in a tight hold. wandering feet walk through the limestone pavement of the greenhouse, a sunflower in your hair that brightens the deep greens succulents and rich browns tree bark.

the vines of soft pink and purple flowers dangling from the glassy dome roof fall their baby pink petals as a breeze presents itself. some already settling in the brown tawny of Andy's hair, not far behind you smile at your face glossed in wonderstruck marvel. wide honey brown pools trail up the ten foot marble and ivory statue, reflecting in serenity cosmoses from the rainbows that spread from the crystal glass.

a sense of desire takes ahold of you as your slowed hands lift to trace your dark fingertips through the crinkle wrinkle of a marble maidens skirt. such detail and intricate design of the craftsman long ago must’ve took years to perfect, the cloth falling seamlessly upon the maidens body as her body crouches to run your clay hand again at the pond water. lifting your camera to your eyes, snapping your desired pictures that are set to capture all the whimsical aspects and elements that take your breath away.

Andy dares to draw near, it wasn’t like he hasn’t stood close to you at all- he might be making it hard on himself by overthinking ever move and step but you call out his name and his heart paces.

“yes y/n,” making his way to where you sit near a pond, you don’t say anything as you wrap the strap for the camera around your neck. fixing up your dress from any wrinkles from scrunching the hem up when dipping your feet in the sea earlier. checking your hair and make up in your hand mirror that you retrieved from your designer purse. an arched brow raises up at you, which you only respond by rolling your eyes and hand him the camera as you smile at yourself in the reflection of the ponds water.

“can you take a picture of me?” as you reapply another layer of gloss on your lips, the fishes swirling in the water to jump to the service to witness the beautiful nymph who have graced their pond themselves.

cupid bows perk at the fish and blow them kisses, your hands grab at a floating lotus before grasping the tender water blossom. putting it in the raven coils that delicately frame your face, damn it y/n.

it was as if you were torturing him with those mascara bambi eyes and glossy primrose lips, it makes his insides buzz and flutter like the malachite dragonfly that passes here and there.

“you telling me you want a picture or did you already decide for me yourself?” you only smack his chest with the camera once again.

“are you going to take the picture or not Barber? did you loose some of your magic with all that lawyer jumbo clouding your head or did you take those freshman photography lessons seriously?”

Andy rolls his eyes and takes the camera from you with a chuckle, “actually i’m still capable of using a camera y/l/n, god you’re making me feel old. go model for me,” you just laugh and run across to the other side of the pond.

soft skin from your legs revealed from the way your sundress lifts bends against your chest. head resting upon your knees while your arms wrap around them, the sunflower in your gasps and the lotus behind your ear. at this moment as the seconds turn into minutes Andy should be taking pictures, his eyes are looking through the lens as his index finger rests on the button.

with as much as single press he captures the greenhouse nymph but what good would a single picture do to capture every gift and grace you bestowed in the offering of your charm, beauty and heart?

it makes Andy's heart race, your eyes dashing from the godly statues that surround you to the camera. sweet music plays in deep cherry wood cellos and willow carved violins and even with the buzzing dragonfly it seems it found its favorite flower at the tip of your nose.

you certainly are the creation and waking of spring flowers and lovesick tales that took his heart then and its still yours now.

that single snapshot was all he could think about you two drove down south to the coast. searching back the drunk nights before where you and him ran into a little covelete whilst drinking goblet after goblet in the forest of olive and grape vine trees. it was a long ride but nothing suited the wait better than the man on the radio singing with his strung trichordo.

the hands that grip Andy's shoulder slide down to wrap your arms around him tightly when the minutes pass and the forest of green olives and sangiovese grapes. parking the scooter near the shrubbery of some innocent bush you and him look for the wine stash the both of you left in the abandoned cavern of an ancient olive tree. Andy grinning as he grabbed the expansive bottle and before you know it you both head to the hidden beach.

Andy didn't plan to actually go swimming, just settle the gingham blanket upon the finely grain sand and open the picnic you both prepared. and he also didn't prepare himself for the rosy blush to dawn his face when your almond nails grip the hem of your sundress to lift it up and over your head. revealing your matching bathing suit underneath its quick that you throw him a wink and race to the nearby grassy cliff.

"see you soon Barber!" you yell and as Andy gets up from the blanket to understand what you mean by that its too late. the summer air is filled with your laughter and sky rippling cheer as you jump off the cliff and dive into the cloud blue water. the splash nonexistent from your perfect swoop.

if only he had the polaroid on him to capture the way your smile gleamed brighter than the sun reflecting off the sparkling water the the way your eyes cutely scrunched like sand dollars under the warmth of golden sand.

the silver green of the olive trees emphasize the richness of your skin. the rich skin he couldn't keep his sapphires off as you laugh your choir laugh that would make Apollo cease his chariot to listen to the siren of Olympus once more. dancing in the turquoise waves of the coast, they crash against your soft mounds, curves, and dips of sun glistening hips and waist.

how could he have been so blind?

rage and anguish slosh around in his mind that pour melancholic rain onto his heart, you were there for him through thick and thin. a friend he believed but how could he have buried that yearn and longing for you all those years?

it's almost criminal to the highest degree and he'd know his side of the justice system but how could that distract him from you? his head was far too buried in those lawbooks to realize, too oblivious to his emotions when you'd date and hang around other people that weren't him. looking far into the looking glass hoping that his work would pay off in the future, meeting another woman and putting a ring on her finger.

now here he is, a divorced man but a still very much happy man. lonely at times with his only child in the custody of his ex wife but still very happy with the comfort and support of you. it was you who helped him from the tears at night and it was you who he wasn't scared to open up to. even the past few months he didn't realize it but now as you call his name to get in the water he doesn't hesitate to pull his shirt over his head and take his shoes and socks off.

joining you in the water in a mater of a few heartbeats, it was as if you were a sea spirit calling for him and even if you weren't he's happily obliging when the small waves collide against his skin. both your laughs rippling the ocean in this small ocean paradise, swimming in the richness of the present never would have guessing that throughout all these years you be here.

the salt water on your skin has dried as you and Andy walk side by side, your shoes rubbing against the gravel of the cobblestone paths as both you peer at the vendors and food stands arranging from rainbow scaled fish, fresh sesame seed breads, farm produced milks and cheeses, and vibrate fruits and vegetables. hands twined together in a firm hold, unfathomable excitement practically radiating off of you while you chat and giggle with Andy.

the topic of the conversation changing every few minutes when you find a stand that grabs your attention. curious eyes and wandering hands look over organic produce and homemade goods the people had to offer. the golden clutch of your purse being opened multiple times and Andy's mouth being stuffed with jam, cheese and fruit samples on the account of you. as you did you shopping he did as well, the ingredients for a sweet treat he had planned for you later on tonight are in a brown paper bag amongst your purchases.

of course he had to carry them all, not in obligation but because he didn’t want you to worry about shopping too much when you’re in the midst of enjoying your vacation. by all means he certainly wasn’t complaining, if anything he liked having you giddy and bursting with energy. practically dragging him from stand to stand and carrying your bags filled with stuff that you’d bring back home and try.

the village square where the marketplace takes place is tinted in an ambrosial hue, the sun now a glowing slice of grapefruit against the peachy pink carnation sky. lavender clouds that seem so close to grasp tower above you both yet they don't prevent the suns glow from capturing the beautiful soft planes of your face.

luscious and softer than the bouquet of sunflower carnations he surprised you with as you looked at the variety of sunhat options. one that you just purchased rests floppily against your temple but still doing its job at keeping you shaded from the suns glare. wrapped in a silky green bow, Andy smiles at how huge it is but it just makes you look divine and adorable in your sundress.

holding his hand tighter before tracing them up his forearm to softly grasp his bicep, it you who's leaning against him and pulling him close to you. the feeling of your body alongside his is warmer then any sunshine that seeps into his skin and lovelier than any of the flowers the market had to offer.

it’s hard to give you one excellent gift to give back all those years of commitment and loyalty and friendship but the way your lips spread in that enchanting smile it’s enough to make Andy know -despite the both of you not saying it- that you feel the same way to.

the bouquet in both your holds lifting up every once in a while for Andy to smell and for you to admire as you walk away from the noisy market. a little behind the village were the spring green of the countryside clashes within the stone brick city is a valley of flower arbors and hedge mazes. it was the last pitstop Andy the bags in both your hands settle down against the safety shadow of a maple trees shade and with a little laugh and an excited squeal he run to the flower arbors.

green rows of soft shrubbery dotted and laced in colorful blossoms stand in multiple rows upon rows look over of petunias and carnations. small apple and lemon trees in potted beds line up within the flowery hedges and no matter where you look it’s only the divination of spring and the gifts it bestows the Earth with. wooden picnic basket that was once used from your beach picnic is now empty but it’s quickly filling with the sweet smelling beauties of the flowers and fruits and you pluck.

Andy not fair behind you captures your wondering body in the still frame pictures of your polaroid camera. the pictures emerging quickly afterwards, he’s quick to fab them off and place them in your small picture album. turning your head over your shoulder your caught with Andy having the perfect opportunity to snap a picture that would be a bedtime story to tell with a child of his and yours.

it’s perfect and breathtaking, no matter the feeling of his heart thumping in its lingering hesitance you were the star that’s still continues to shine despite being out in broad daylight. it pulled at his heart strings because he knew what this feeling was, this feeling that he been avoiding to come to terms with all day but why was he so terrified?

the fear of rejection wouldn’t burst his heart but it would remind him that he was alone. a man like him wasn’t born to walk this Earth, wake to the sun and sleep with moon alone. the very presence of you besides him made him feel all the things besides lonely and bare to the universes cruelness at times. but maybe you felt the same way about him.

he only had one way to find out and he was set on keeping it, whatever sea he had to cross, valley he had to travel to and the plummeting ends to the Earth he will pronounce his love.

snapping another picture of you, you smile in it and with that he smiles to.

"realize what Andy?" you press on but in the rosy candle light his lips pressed against yours seems to be the only answer he can bring himself to conclude.

it's takes the breath out of your lungs and makes your heart blush and burn deeper and hotter than the tiny flames that decorate the cake. the roughness of his bottom lip that have been occasionally bitten the past minutes of dancing around your feelings. the nerve of you both to push aside your feelings for each other because the fear of breaking each others hearts.

if only your past selves could see you now, shedding your hearts and allowing the key to them to finally open the gates of vulnerability and yearn. the passionate lovesick mess tastes delicious against your mouths and you both could get drunk off it instead of the rose. sweet and inching for more as your lips part to graze against each other, but in order to seal the prophecy of established lovers Andy pulls away.

"that i'm in love with you. that i've always been in love with you. it's been years and i'm sorry for just realizing it now but I need to know if you feel the same way. please tell me now, please," he whispers against your lips.

now its your turn for our heart to skip beats and take in each and everyone of his words. fluttering eyes drowning in his copper blues, you open your mouth to say something but nothing but a soundless nothing comes out. all these years your love for Andy has been buried deep within you and you've tried your best to hide that seed. to plow in new seeds because what use was that seed if it never flourished when he'd feel the same way.

you don't realize until you feel the tear dripping down your cheek, he wipes it with his thumb. pressing a kiss where it once existed and it's now that you realize that it's always come to this. your lives weren't entirely paved in stone but the love that has a faith of its own is something that changes as the pages of a storybook turn.

this virtuous night being the newest chapter and as much as you're scared to follow along your heart has been waiting for this moment for so long. with those teary eyes that bring some to his own you smile and pull his face with yours, pressing your lips with his to mark your answer clear, to make him feel the way you feel.

"i've always felt the same. dear god Barber it took you twenty years and it all worked out didn't it?" you giggle against his mouth, feeling his grin as he kisses you back.

"what did you wish for?" he murmurs and you only smile and wrap your arms around his neck, "this,"

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this follow me to read more of my future works! ♡♡♡

𝓇𝑜𝓈𝒾𝑒'𝓈  𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 || @cloudystevie ♡ @steebsbabygirl  ♡ @honeychicana ♡ @afriendlyblackhottie ♡ @chrissquares ♡ @denisemarieangelina ♡ @babyyhoneyydarling ♡ @hevans-angel ♡ @danneelsmain​​ ♡ @madbaddic7ed​ ♡ @drewsbuzz​ ♡ @assoftheamericana ♡ @gracechristo ♡ my taglist is down below for you to join

join my taglist here! 🌷🌿⛅️

𝓭𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓻’𝓈 𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓽 || @firefly-graphics & @chrissquares ♡ go follow both their accounts and check out their works! ♡♡♡

[patt-writes-stuff]

Pink (Hawks x gn!Reader)

Pairing: Hawks/Takami Keigo x gn! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: cursing but that’s about it!

Genre: Fluff, slight angst, Romantic/Relationship

Tags/Aus: boss x secretary, pining, slow burn, slight cannon divergence probably

Summary: 5 times your boss, Hawks, made you flustered + the one time you made him flustered

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!! This is my fic for the Attack on Academia server’s Secret Santa Event!! This is for @sugacookiies​ !! and I really hope you like it!!! 

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 1

“Thank you so much for coming today, we’ll be sure to get back to you soon,” the lady who had been interviewing you said, smiling at you. You bowed your head slightly, thanking her for her time with a small smile on your face.

After exiting the room and closing the door, you took a deep breath, as if to calm your still very present nerves. You had been up for a job as a secretary at pro hero Hawk’s agency, something you were more than thrilled about.  

Growing up, you’d always been immensely intrigued with the world of pro heroes. Your room had been decked out in hero figurines and posters, the whole nine yards. Hell, even your comforter was hero themed at a certain point in time. It had just always fascinated you how these people would use their quirks for the good of humanity and to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.

Sadly, your quirk, MoodLocks, wasn’t very useful in crime-fighting. All it did was allow your hair to change colors depending on your mood. It was pretty, of course, but you had a hard time controlling it and it could never help you beat an opponent. If anything, it would give the villain an insight into your thoughts and put you at a clear disadvantage.

So, as time passed, your childish fantasies of becoming a hero did as well. It didn’t bother you anymore, as you were more than happy with the career you’d chosen. Your love of heroes was still very much present, hence why you were so nervous about today’s interview. If you got the job, not only would the pay be incredible, but you’d also get the chance to help an actual hero. Maybe you’d even get the chance to meet more of them!

You were pretty sure you had made a fairly good impression so hopefully, you would indeed get a call from the agency soon.

Walking out of the agency, you couldn’t help but let out a yawn. You’d stayed up far too late last night googling commonly asked job interview questions so you wanted nothing more than to get back to your apartment and catch up on some much-needed rest. Maybe you and your roommate could order in.

“Oh God, I am so sorry that was my fault. I just finished this super stressful interview and I’m super tired so I was not watching where I was going-” your babbling came to a sudden halt as you looked up, brain losing all ability to form coherent thoughts.

Right before your very eyes was the man who’s “a bit too fast” in all his red-winged glory. You’d seen him in interviews online, of course, you kept up with most pro hero interviews, so you knew he was handsome. However, the cameras most certainly did not do the man justice. His yellow glasses were resting on his forehead, pushing his messy (and very soft looking) blond hair back. His gold eyes seemed to be looking right into your soul, calculating yet calm.

God, you wished you could make your eyeliner look remotely similar to his.

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you realized that you’d been staring for what you could only describe as an uncomfortably long amount of time.

Before you could embarrass yourself further, the winged hero placed a gloved hand on your shoulder. He looked at the top of your head, an intrigued expression adorning his face before morphing into an easy smile, he spoke, “‘S no problem, chickadee. Good luck with your interview.”

And just like that, the hero went along his merry way.

Curious what he’d been staring at, not to mention the nickname, you looked up at your hair, which had previously been a bright shade of orange due to being anxious, was now very pink. You blanched at the thought of having lost control of your quirk so easily, in front of a cute guy pro hero who might be your future boss no less.

‘Well,’ you thought, ‘at least I can say I met Japan’s #2 hero even if I don’t get this job.’

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 2

Much to your surprise, and pleasure, you had indeed received a call from Hawks’ agency about a week later. After several follow up interviews (much more than you were expecting, honestly, but you suppose it made since he’s such a high ranking hero) a very thorough background check, you had gotten the job.

When you had gotten the job, you had been hoping that the blond would have forgotten your first encounter, since you had literally malfunctioned right before his very eyes. The chances of him forgetting weren’t exactly small, after all. You were sure he met plenty of people every day and your interaction had been incredibly brief.

A month into your job as his secretary, you seemed to be in the clear. Sure, he knew about your quirk, since he was your employer and the ever-changing array of colors in your hair aren’t exactly subtle, but seeing as he hadn’t mentioned it so he’d probably forgotten.

You’d stayed at the agency long after your shift was overdue to a couple of low-ranking villains attempting to rob a bank. It had been an easy win for Hawks, he was in and out of there long before his sidekicks had even gotten there, but the villains had caused a lot of unnecessary damage to the building, so there was a ridiculous amount of paperwork.

You couldn’t wait to get home and change out of your stuffy work clothes and into the comfiest pair of PJs you owned. Your roommate, always a sweetheart, had been kind enough to save you some leftovers from her dinner so all you had to do was warm it up, eat, shower, and crash on your bed.

Whilst you were getting ready to head home, your boss had decided that it was only fair to walk you home, seeing as it was late. You had insisted that he didn’t need to do that, even showing him the can of pepper spray you carried around your person at all times. Still, he’d insisted, and who were you to say no?

The winged hero had originally offered to fly you home, but you’d profusely told him it wasn’t necessary. So, the two of you ended up taking the train. The two of you got a couple of weird stares from your fellow passengers, seeing as the flying hero was taking a train instead of y’know… flying and his wings took a significantly large part of the seat the two of you were occupying (it seemed uncomfortable but he didn’t mention it). Hawks seemed to either not notice or not care, opting instead to have an animated conversation with you about the best fried chicken places in Fukuoka. It was mostly him talking, but you’d add to the conversation every once in a while, and sometimes people would interrupt and ask for an autograph, which he’d sign with a carefree smile on his face.

“You don’t have to walk me home, sir,” you told him after the two of you had exited the station closest to your apartment.

“What kind of hero would I be if I let a civilian walk alone across the dark streets of Japan?” He asked you, tone light and teasing. “Also, didn’t I tell you to call me Hawks? Sir makes me feel old.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at his words, turning to the left towards your apartment. You’d get there soon and a small part of you wanted to keep the banter going for as long as possible.

“I don’t think that would be very professional of me, sir,” you said playfully. He laughed and the two of you settled into a comfortable silence while you walked.

After a moment, he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and he spoke up, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, how exactly does your quirk work?”

“Oh well, y’know, it changes color depending on my mood, so red means I’m angry, blue can mean I’m sad or calm, pink means I’m flustered or embarrassed, purple means I’m scared, etc.”

“So your hair went pink the first time we met because you were starstruck by my devilishly good looks?” He asked in a faux haughty tone. “Don’t worry, I don’t blame you.”

The asshole remembered your first encounter.

Your hair turned pink and you celebrated inwardly as you approached your apartment. As you opened the glass door to the complex, Hawks laughed at your hurry.

“Good night,” you stated, tone indignant at his laughter, as you made your way inside.”

“‘Night, Pinky.”

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 3

Working for the red-winged hero himself was both everything you were expecting it to be and completely the opposite of it at the same time.

The hours were crazy, something you were anticipating considering villain activity had been increasing and your boss was a busy public figure. What you were certainly not anticipating, however, was that Hawks would be such a teasing little shit.

Not only had the man remembered your first encounter, but after you had explained your quirk to him (he’d asked you about it despite it being in the agency’s records since you had applied for the position, you guessed he’d done it as a way to break the ice) he’d taken it upon himself to fluster you to get your hair to go that embarrassingly bright shade of pink.

He’d call you all sorts of nicknames ranging from pinky to songbird (your favorite was by far Pinky since it feels so personal. Not that you’d ever tell him that). He’d also gotten into the habit of trying out all sorts of ridiculous pick up lines on you. The greater majority of them were bird-related, of course. Those never really got you but they did make you laugh.

The one that probably got you the most was when he’d bring you your favorite drink or lunch from a place you’d mentioned you’d like offhandedly, saying he had just been “flying by” and remembered your conversation.

You didn’t mind his flirtatious banter in the slightest. He never crossed any boundaries and kept things professional when it came to business. It was pretty fun to see what nicknames or pickup lines he had up his sleeves.

The only downside was that you’d begun to develop a slight crush on the red-winged hero. It would never lead to anything, you were well aware of that. He was not only a famous hero who was constantly under public scrutiny, but he was also your boss.

It can’t hurt to dream though.

“What’s got you so distracted?” An all too familiar broke your very him-centric train of thought. You looked up from the paperwork you’d been blankly staring at. You’d been trying to multitask between eating and doing paperwork so you wouldn’t have to take any work home. After much insistence from your roommate, who was well aware of your crush on Your boss (she’d teasingly gifted you a pair of Hawks themed PJs on your birthday), you had finally given in and agreed to let her set you up on a date with a former schoolmate of hers.

“Nothing, just thinking about a date I have tonight,” you lied, looking up from your desk to meet those lovely honey-colored eyes you spent more hours than you’d care to admit thinking about. You scanned his body language, trying to gauge his reaction. Not that you could ever get a read on him. More often than not, it was impossible to get a read on him under the visage of carefree indifference he was so well known for. In the almost half a year you’d known him you’d never once seen the hero lose his cool or show any emotion other than the ones he wanted to portray. It was kind of unfair seeing as he could get a picture-perfect look into your thoughts and emotions just by looking at the color of your hair and here you were, left grasping at straws.

He seemed to have no outward reaction other than his shoulders tensing and his eyebrows scrunching up a bit in mild distaste. It was gone so fast you were sure you must have just imagined it.

“Pinky’s got themselves a date?” he said after a moment, a slightly forced teasing tilt to his voice. He crossed his hands and placed them on the taller part of your desk and leaned his weight on them, staring down at you with a cheeky grin.

“I guess so,” you said, fiddling with your chopsticks as you continued, “I’m kind of nervous though. I haven’t got on any dates since I started working here, I’m a little rusty.”

“How come you haven’t gone on any dates?” he asked, staring at you with an intensity you weren’t quite expecting from him. “Had a special someone in mind?”

The roots of your hair went white in surprise before you managed to school them into going back to your natural hair color. It was brief but he had surely noticed.

“I’d go on lots of dates if my boss gave me more days off,” you said, pushing past the momentary lull in the conversation and giving him a pointed look.

He let out a laugh, a real and genuine one, unlike the ones he’d let out during interviews or out in public. The thought made your face heat up. It made you feel special. Even if he didn’t see you in the same way you saw him, he at least trusted you enough to be real around you. That was enough for you.

“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about, kid, any person would be lucky to land a date with someone as beautiful as you,” He stated, looking at you with a certain emotion behind his gaze that you couldn’t quite decipher. “If your date happens to go south, just give me a call and I’ll pick you up. After all, what kind of hero would I be if I didn’t look out for my secretary?”

You looked at his retreating form, your hair as pink as bubble gum and heart threatening to beat out of your rib cage. He’d just called you beautiful. He’d also said that anyone would be lucky to date you. Did that include him? Did he like you?

“Hey Hawks,” you called out, surprising both him and yourself. Despite him telling you to just call him Hawks instead of ‘sir’, you’d stuck to calling him sir for the sake of professionality. “Thanks for the offer.”

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 4

You let out a tired sigh as you watched the number of floors go up on the tiny screen atop the doors of the elevator you were currently in.

When you had signed your contract to work at Hawks’ agency, you were aware that you would need to be accessible 24/7, however, you thought that if he did contact you at an ungodly hour, it’d be for something important, perhaps something along the lines of a press scandal or a massive villain attack that you’d need to start filing paperwork promptly so that the agency could report the casualties or cost of the destruction. You had highly doubted Hawks, Japan’s literal #2 hero would call his secretary at 3:00 a.m. in the goddamn morning and order them to bring him a bucket of fried chicken from fucking KFC.

You clearly hadn’t known the man at the time, you thought as you stared at the red and white bucket in your arms.

The elevator dinged, alerting you that you had arrived at your destination. Making your way through the hallway, you tried to figure out why your boss would be so cruel as to make you get him fast food when he had two perfectly capable wings that could take him to and from the nearest KFC faster than you ever could. You bet it’d even be warmer.

You’d need to download UberEats on his phone.

Before your fist could make contact with the door, it was swung open, surprising your half-asleep brain. Before your eyes there was a very awake looking Hawks, his eyes zeroed in on the bucket you were holding

“Hey there, chickadee,” he said in a teasing tone, resting his arm on the door frame in a very attractive manner. God, if you were just a bit more coherent and a little less sleep-deprived, your hair would be the most embarrassingly bright pink color imaginable.

Thankfully, you weren’t and you could hear your bed calling your name from across the city, so without bothering to answer, you shoved the bucket of chicken into his arms before turning around to speed your way back to your at this point cold bed.

Before you could get very far, however, Hawks had grabbed your wrist with your free hand.

“You’re not leaving already, are you?” He asked you, letting go of your wrist.

“It’s 3 in the goddamn morning, Hawks,” was your deadpan answer.

“C’mon, you wouldn’t let your poor boss eat all alone would you,” you could tell his tone was meant to be light and playful but it was lacking his usual flare.

Your concern for the overgrown pigeon won out, and with a defeated sigh, you walked into his apartment, Hawks trailing behind you, visibly pleased that you stayed.

Despite all your time working for Hawks, you’d never actually been inside of his apartment. You had come here several times before to drop off documents he needed to sign or a new schedule (because the Hero Commission apparently couldn’t send emails directly to him) but you had always left the things at his building's front desk.

Hawks’ apartment was… emptier than you had expected it to be. It was nice, the furniture was obviously high quality, not that it was surprising considering he was a high ranking hero, but it lacked a personal touch. It had no pictures or knick-knacks in sight. It felt more like a house instead of an actual home.

“So, how’d your date go?” Hawks inquired once the two of you settled in his living room, him on the couch and you in the armchair next to it. He picked up a piece of chicken, offering it to you. However, it was far too early to even think about consuming food, so you politely declined.

“It was fine. He was nice,” you answered.

To be honest the date had gone well. He’d been nice, a complete gentleman. He’d taken you to a nice restaurant, he was great in conversation, he’d even walked you home but at the end of the night, the two of you had agreed that there was just no chemistry between the two of you whatsoever. You had decided to just stay friends.

“There won’t be a second one, though,” you added after a beat of silence.

“Good,” your eyes widened at his words and suddenly you had an epiphany.

Hawks had been jealous. He was jealous because he liked you. That’s why he had asked you to come here.

Before you could voice your thoughts, he spoke again, a sly smirk on his face, “By the way, I love your pajamas. I wasn’t aware you were such a fan.”

Your hair turned pink, as it often did whenever Hawks was around when you looked down at your clothes. In your haste to get Hawks his food so you could go back to bed, you had forgone changing clothes. You hadn’t realized you were wearing the Hawks themed PJs your roommate had gotten you as a gag gift. They were mustard-colored with lots of cute red feathers and tiny Hawks chibi heads scattered around the fabric.

He would never let you live this down.

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 5

Following the KFC event, the two of you hadn’t spoken about the situation further. At this point, you were well aware of his feelings for you, and you hadn’t exactly been subtle about liking him. The two of you just hadn’t spoken about it. You weren’t official but there was an unspoken rule that neither of you would go on dates with other people.

You were fine with it. Really, you were.

Except that you were definitely not okay with it and you were very much upset that he had just answered that he was single when the lady that had interviewed him had asked him if he was seeing anyone.

Rationally, you understood why he said no. You weren’t official and saying yes would just throw the media into a frenzy while they speculated who he was seeing. You remember how crazy everyone went a couple of months ago when pictures of Mirko and Hawks in their street clothes hanging out started circulating on Twitter. They were trending for weeks, and you had had to answer call after call, explaining that no, they are not dating and no, they don’t have time to go on the 8:00 a.m. news to answer questions about what it was like to date as pro heroes.

On the other hand, you were tired of dancing around each other. You were aware that dating a pro hero would come with hectic schedules and even some danger, but you didn’t care.

“So I was thinking you could come over and we can watch that hero documentary you told me to watch- hey are you mad at me?” Hawks asked, brows furrowed as in confusion.

“No, I’m not angry at you,” you answered, putting your stuff away and heading to the agency’s doors. You were more than ready to go back to your apartment and there was a pint of your favorite ice cream waiting for you in the freezer with your name on it.

“You totally are,” he scoffed, following after you.

“No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are.” Your overgrown pigeon of a boss insisted, mimicking your tone, “If you’re not angry then why is your hair red?”

With a sigh, you spoke, failing to hide the snarky tone to your voice “So what if I am angry? Why do you care? It’s not like we’re dating or anything.” You walked out onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, that’s what you're upset about?” He asked, realization dawning upon his features. When you didn’t answer he kept talking, “You of all people know why I didn’t say anything.”

“I know. It’s just- nothing, never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” You told him, looking away with a defeated sigh.

You were about to walk away before he stopped you by placing his glove cladded hand  

“At least let me take you home,” it wasn’t much of a question, but you nodded anyways.

All of a sudden, you let out a shrill scream when he picked you up bridal style, hands instinctively clasping on to his coat to assure you wouldn’t fall.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you home,” he explained as if it were obvious. Before you had a chance to argue he set off into the sky.

You couldn’t hear anything but the wind in your ears and his heartbeat, but you finally understood why he loved flying so much. Exhilarating was the only word you could use to describe it. And cold. It was also really cold. You understood why he walked around with such a heavy coat now. You snuggled more into him, trying to get some more warmth, which caused Hawks to tighten his hold on you. The affectionate gesture alone had your hair going a shade of pink.

You got to your apartment building much faster than you ever would by taking the train, something that you regretted a bit since it meant he’d let go of you.

“Look, Hawks,” you started, “maybe we should-“

“Keigo,” he said, effectively cutting you off,

“W-what?” You spluttered, caught off guard.

“I want you to call me Keigo,” he said with a sense of finality, looking into your eyes with an emotion you couldn’t quite read, or at least one that you were just choosing to ignore. It’d just make what you were about to suggest harder.

“Look, Hawks,” you started, opening the door that led to the stairs, “I really like you, hell, maybe even more than that, and I want to be with you but I don’t want to be whatever we are right now forever.”

Ignoring the way his wings physically dropped at your words, you closed the door behind you and headed to your apartment.

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 1

Once you got home, you immediately stripped out of your work clothes and into your Hawks-themed pajamas (because they're the comfiest, not because they remind you of him, obviously) and you’d taken out your ice cream and went to town on it. Your roommate had noticed the dark blue that had taken over your hair but you’d brushed her off, saying it was nothing to worry about. She’d been doubtful, but she had a night shift so she left, but not before making you promise to call her if you needed to.

You’d spent the rest of the evening eating your ice cream and watching tv before deciding to get some sleep so you would feel at least a little less sorry for yourself tomorrow.

You were currently in your room, scrolling through your phone on your bed before calling it a day when you started to hear a tapping sound. You’d ruled it out to be some tree branch knocking against your window due to the wind. However, the longer you ignored it the more incessant it became.

You nearly fell out of your bed when you realized it was Hawks, your boss, the #2 pro hero of Japan, tapping on your window while squatting on your fire escape.

You got up, heading towards your window and unlocking it before pushing it up.  You helped him in before sitting down on the bed and motioning for him to do the same. An awkward silence filled the air, neither of you was quite sure of what you should say.

“Hawks, what are-“ you started before being cut off by him.

“Look, Pinky, I love you so much it scares the shit out of me,” he declared. Your hair went the brightest shade of pink it had ever been at his words.

He played with the embroidered design of the throw blanket you kept in your bed. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the red-winged hero so vulnerable in all your time knowing him.

“But there’s a lot of crap that comes with my job and I could never forgive myself if I brought you into it and you got hurt. So-“ before he could finish speaking, you grabbed onto his coat’s collar with both of your hands and crashed your lips against his.

You’d waited almost an entire year for this. One thing was for certain, it was well worth the wait. You loved every single thing about him. And he loved you. That was all you needed.

After a beat, you pulled away, choosing instead to cup his cheek in an adoring manner. The two of you looked at each other with nothing short of pure unadulterated adoration.

“I love you Keigo,” you spoke his name for the first time, “as long as you’re by my side I don’t care about what happens.”

His reaction was, for lack of a better word, cute. His honey eyes were wide in shock, his face as red as his wings, and his aforementioned wings were puffed up in shock. Now you understood why he loved teasing you so much.

“So, do you wanna watch the documentary?” You asked him, walking out of your room and into the living room with a victorious smirk.

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

[mythicamagic]

The Colour of Love: Sesskag oneshot

This oneshot is dedicated to @chierafied​ as thanks for all her hard work and organisation in the sesskag community, particularly on tumblr for sesskag week and monthly prompts. She's also a wonderful sesskag author and always offers advice or a kind word ^^

Rated T

Summary: Shippo puts a spell on Kagome that allows her to see emotions in colour. It's fun to test out on her friends, but why is she seeing an awful lot of magenta around Sesshoumaru whenever she comes near? Sesskag oneshot

The Colour of Love

"I just need to test it on someone. You'll help, won't you?"

Kagome eyed the ominous glowing beverage in the fox's hands dubiously. She winced and picked up a basket, walking away with every intention of weaselling out of the conversation.

"Shippo, no offence, but the last time you tested something on me for class, horns sprouted out of my head and green pimples covered my face for an entire week. I'm not super keen on being your guinea pig this time, buddy."

His tail twitched and lowered, but her words did little to deter Shippo. He followed the miko as she attended to her chores; freeing swaying sheets from where they'd been hanging out to dry and folding them neatly into a basket.

"Oh pleeassee, Kagome! Sensei oversaw my casting process this time- there's no danger, honest! It's not even that cool of a spell."

Kagome arched a brow, lifting off another sheet and smoothing the cool creases. That was odd, Shippo always preferred the flashier spells. "What does it do?"

"It would let you see everyone's emotions in colour."

She tilted her head, "in colour? How would that work?"

Shippo grinned mischievously, holding up his cup and shaking it gently. "Wouldn't you like to find out?"

Giggling, she thought for a moment, biting her bottom lip. "I guess it sounds pretty harmless. And this is for a grade?"

"Yes!" he nodded rapidly, eyes widening as his tone became pleading. "Sensei already graded all the other kids! I'm the only one who hasn't passed yet, and everyone else in the village refuses to help me! I'd owe you big time, Kagome. Please?"

Giving a large, put-upon sigh and folding the last of the sheets, Kagome squatted down before him. "Alright, alright. I just have to drink it?"

Green eyes brightened, and he handed the cup over eagerly, the contents nearly spilling. "Mhm! The effects should only last for a few days~!"

The glowing blue shimmer within her cup didn't exactly fill Kagome with confidence, but she didn't want to stifle his progress. It was wonderful that Shippo could advance in his magic at a kitsune school. Secretly, she felt somewhat guilty about the subject. She hadn't been able to witness his growth for three years after being stuck in the future.

Steeling herself and deciding to support him, Kagome downed the foul-tasting concoction. Coughing and blinking away thick tears that stung her lashes, her tongue roved around in her mouth as though trying to escape the taste of sour candy mixed with spices and mint leaves. What an odd combination. Shaking herself and noticing Shippo watching her worriedly, blue eyes widened as a faint shade of grey coiled and moved around the outline of his body like a shining aura.

"I-I think I see it?" Kagome gasped, reaching out and trying to touch the thing, though it had no solid form.

"Really?" Shippo lit up, the colour immediately becoming a tentative yellow, which only shone brighter into a canary hue when she nodded.

Giving a happy cheer, Shippo asked her about any side effects, which were none as far as she could tell.

They then decided to walk around Kaede's village together, Kagome noting any people they passed by and the colour of their current emotions. Shippo hurriedly took notes.

"There's Miroku meditating-" Kagome pointed to the quiet meadow they passed where the monk sat calmly, having gained two pupils to teach. Monks in training. Inuyasha had voiced his doubts that it would last long once the monks witnessed Miroku's less than savoury habits.

"His aura thingy is lavender and seems controlled," she observed in a hushed tone.

The little kitsune made a noise of affirmation, writing that down on a trailing scroll. "I think purple must be linked with spirituality then? This is great info!"

Giggling, she nodded, noticing how faint the pupil's auras were. She wondered if her own focus on spirituality would be strong or weak.

Moving on, noticed Sango outside her hut, who seemed absorbed in rocking her infant son while he dozed. Her twins were playing with some spinning tops that Shippo had given them.

"What do ya see, Kagome?" he tugged at her pant leg.

She hummed, gaze gentling. "Sango is radiating a kind of baby pink glow. The twins are like yours earlier- yellow and excited."

"So I guess love is pink," Shippo nodded.

Noticing something, Kagome waved a hand slightly. "Hold on-"

"Hm?"

Kaede and Rin were walking towards them, engaged in conversation. The little girl chirped on about something or other, while Kaede nodded indulgently.

"Kaede and Rin have pink auras too, but it's different. It's a pale pink, more like a pearl."

Shippo tapped his small chin with a pen Kagome had lent him. "Hmm…"

"I guess it makes sense since there are different types of love, don't you think?" gently prodding him, she smiled.

"Oh! So like they're feeling something kinda similar to Sango, but different."

"Right," Kagome grinned wider, proud of him. "Familial love for Sango, and platonic, friendly love for Kaede and Rin."

The old miko and her charge stopped to greet them on the path. "What are ye both up to today?" Kaede's single eye slid down to the scroll questioningly.

Kagome waved it off. "Just some schooling."

"Yeah, but it's fun! We're testing magic!"

Rin gaped at Shippo, aura turning green. "Aww, can I help them?" she turned to Kaede with a pout, clasping both hands and making big brown eyes even wider.

"Ye have your own training to attend to, Rin. Come along," the old woman kept walking with a dusty chuckle.

Whining good-naturedly with a now agitated orange glow about her, Rin trudged after her guardian, giving a despondent farewell to Shippo.

At that moment, foul cursing filled the air. The loud, booming swear caused nesting birds to take flight from their trees near the village.

The miko and kit shared a dry look.

"Inuyasha," they sighed in unison.

Needless to say, their former travelling companion's emotions glowed a vibrant red- outshining even the robe of the fire rat. He held his sore thumb, having accidentally hammered it while fixing a neighbour's chicken coop. Kagome wisely hid her laughter, feeling a plume of affection for him, since he'd taken it upon himself to help a neighbour.

I wonder what colour surrounds me when I look at Inuyasha, she wondered, fishing out a small mirror. Unfortunately, she couldn't see the colour. Though they'd broken up after a couple of weeks of dating, that candle of first love between them wouldn't be snuffed out completely. Since she couldn't coax that flame any higher than a tiny, nostalgic flame, she wagered it to be a kind of pastel pink colour.

After a few hours, Shippo looked down at the list of emotions they'd observed. "I think I got most of em' for now. We did great today, Kagome! Thanks so much!"

She giggled and ruffled his hair. "Don't sweat it, kiddo. I need to collect some herbs now, so if I see some new ones while I'm out, I'll let you know," Kagome grinned, leaning a basket against her hip. "I'll be able to see these emotions for a few more days, so no sense in turning in your test results early."

Shippo gave her a brief hug, before racing off to go organise his notes. Beaming with pride, Kagome walked out of the village and up a hill towards Inuyasha Forest with a small skip in her step. She'd helped! And luckily there'd been no side effects or worries of any kind.

Maybe I should help him out more often, she mused, noticing a certain Daiyoukai step out from beneath the shade of trees, powder blue shifting around his aura calmly. Smiling amiably, Kagome lifted a hand in greeting as their gazes met- before freezing.

Sesshoumaru's expression didn't change from its usual combo of placid, haughty and stoic. However, the energy surrounding him immediately dyed a deep, vibrant colour.

Kagome's breath hitched, eyes widening.

It plunged into a bold magenta hue, becoming a solid outline that coiled and thrummed.

She did not understand what it meant, but that she could elicit a change in emotion from him at all felt startling.

He stared at her, unblinking. As he drew closer and closer, Kagome tried to make sense of what he could be feeling, but his guarded eyes refused to risk any secrets being revealed.

"Miko," he acknowledged in his usual crisp, silky baritone. His way of a greeting.

"Sesshoumaru," she said, muscles tensing as he passed by, the silk of his billowing sleeve brushing the hypersensitive skin of her arm. Kagome blinked rapidly, reeling.

Shifting to watch him leave surreptitiously, she watched the magenta remain long after they'd parted ways, spying him duck into Kaede's hut to pay Rin a visit.

What the heck was that about?

Maybe it wasn't anything worth noting. Surely, just like anyone else, the Daiyouki had various emotions linked to things. People elicited different feelings from him; that was perfectly normal. But his mood had changed so swiftly upon seeing her that Kagome couldn't help but feel curious. What did magenta mean? Had she offended him? Did he always feel that specific emotion around her, or was it a one-off?

Turning on her heel, Kagome dismissed her task of fetching herbs in favour of seeking Shippo out again.

---

"What does magenta mean to you?"

"To me?"

Kagome nodded seriously.

Thinking for a moment, Shippo hummed and nommed on a lollipop, leaning back on the log he'd perched upon outside. "I dunno, it's a pretty colour but not a favourite. Can't get much use outta it with my crayons."

"No, I mean like - surely there has to be some demon opinion of magenta? Is it associated with a powerful emotion or something?"

Shippo shook his head, consulting the forgotten scroll. "My guess is- since purple is spiritual stuff, Sesshoumaru feels uh...like you remind him of holy things?"

Huffing out a sigh, she flopped down beside him, placing her chin in her hands. "Doubt that. He didn't seem calm," she mumbled, remembering the vivid intensity of his unblinking stare. "Hm, maybe since red- which is anger- and darker blue- which is sadness- has to mix to make the right shade of magenta, that means Sesshoumaru is both angry and sad when he looks at me." Kagome's stomach dropped. "Oh God, do I make him smad?"

Shippo snorted and tossed his lollipop aside to shake her arm, noticing the dazed look of worry glazing her eyes. "You don't make him smad."

Kagome remained unconvinced. The kit groaned, hopping up and grabbing her hand. "You don't! I'm sure it was just a coincidence he was feeling magenta around you. Let's go see!"

The miko stumbled after the exuberant fox, not fully realising where he intended to go until it clicked they were heading toward Kaede's hut. Kagome's heels abruptly dug into the earth, dragging. "Shippo!" she hissed. "He's visiting Rin- I don't want to interrupt."

"You won't be, it looks like they're saying goodbye already."

Blue eyes widened and her attention snapped up from the fox to land on some distant figures up ahead. Even from far away, Kagome could see the pearl pink aura coiling around Sesshoumaru as he lay a gentle hand upon Rin's head of brown hair. The girl beamed, giving off her own warm shine.

Kagome bit the inside of her cheek, heedless of her own approach now. She realized then just how personal and vulnerable the emotion spell could be- how rare and revealing it was to witness Sesshoumaru experiencing such a wholesome bond, free from violence. Enemies could potentially use it on each other to find out secret information easily.

The Daiyoukai seemed to inhale- abruptly stiffening and lifting his hand away from Rin as claws twitched, curling into his palm. Kagome witnessed the moment his aura bled darker, slipping from innocent pink into the strong shade of magenta- just as he turned his head in their direction. Golden eyes pinned her in place. Sesshoumaru seemed to grow tense and watchful, showing none of his previous warmth.

Shippo paused when they weren't too far away, glancing up and noticing Kagome's pale expression. "Uh... has it happened again?"

"It's even worse than before," Kagome whispered.

"Kagome, Shippo!" Rin called over to them, waving. "Are you still playing with magic?"

This seemed to catch Sesshoumaru's attention, ripping his heavy gaze away to land on his ward. "Magic?"

"Mhm! They're doing some kitsune homework with a spell," she smiled, seeming to gain a devious expression and hurrying over to grab Kagome's freehand, pulling her the rest of the way towards her lord. "Kagome! You should take a quick break and sit with Lord Sesshoumaru. Share some tea together!"

Horror churned fierce and fast through Kagome's system. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable, and prolonged exposure to her would no doubt suck for him if magenta was an irritated colour.

"That is unnecessary, Rin," Sesshoumaru uttered, confirming Kagome's suspicions. She winced a little anyway, wondering why it stung. "This one was just passing through, I will leave now."

Making a noise of complaint, the girl's grip tightened. "Well then, she should accompany you! W-we need medicinal herbs and you didn't gather any earlier, did you Kagome?"

She willed the earth to swallow her whole. "N-no…"

"Then it's decided! She can walk you to the forest since she's heading that way." Rin poked and prodded them to get moving. In all the confusion, Shippo slipped away to make some notes, giving Kagome a thumbs up- which she returned with a death glare.

Wondering what had come over Rin but being trapped by politeness to refuse, Kagome grimly started walking alongside Sesshoumaru, picking up a basket from Kaede's hut.

I shouldn't feel guilty or weird around him, she thought, trying to ease her worry. If he's getting bent out of shape just from seeing me, that's his problem. I'm pretty confident I haven't insulted him recently.

Kagome nodded silently to herself, endeavouring not to let Sesshoumaru's secret magenta emotion matter so much-

"You appear well."

Jumping, Kagome whipped her head up to the regal demon. "Huh?" she blinked, heat touching her cheeks. "Oh! Thanks!" the magenta outline grew bolder, much to her chagrin. "You look nice too. Aha-! I mean not nice- well, you look handsome- but in a good health way! Not a 'compliment on your looks' way. That's totally what I meant. "

Open mouth, insert foot.

His aura only seemed to fluctuate more, and Sesshoumaru's lips thinned. Kagome inwardly groaned. No doubt he hated her even more now!

She decided an attempt to smooth over everything was in order. "Sesshoumaru," she said, taking a breath. "I know we might not be what you'd consider close, but I'd be totally fine with talking about anything that might be bothering you. Even allies can talk about that stuff."

Sesshoumaru blinked languidly, looking as though she'd blurted out a foreign language. He then faced forward, features becoming tightly controlled. "Nothing unsettles me, miko. It is a foolish, human sentiment that I should be 'bothered' by anything."

Kagome rolled her eyes, mouth twitching. Proud, stubborn guy. She didn't know why she found it kind of endearing.

"Why are you so certain I am troubled?"

Her steps faltered before she strode on, biting her bottom lip. "I have a knack for feeling out these things. A woman's intuition," she grinned, noticing his stare rove lower, south from her eyes.

"Hn," golden eyes lingered. Kagome wondered if she'd gotten something stuck in her teeth. "Your intuition is certainly lacking if you are only just noticing something amiss."

A victorious noise escaped her and she immediately swooped in on the slip-up. Sesshoumaru seemed to wince. "Aha! So something IS wrong!"

"Miko-"

"It's just that you've been dealing with it for such a long time that it's become almost normal to you. That about right?" she grinned.

Kagome took his moody silence as a 'yes.'

"I'm sorry I didn't pick up on it earlier. Shippo's um...spell...has made me extra sensitive to how others are feeling," she revealed a half-truth. "I just can't work out how you're feeling. Heh, you're mysterious even when I've got magic to help me understand you."

"You wish to understand me?"

"Well, yes? You're our ally. As established; I'd like to be your friend too."

"I see."

"Sooo...?" Kagome hedged as they arrived at the border of the trees. The Daiyoukai stopped and turned to her once they were beneath the branches, having stepped under cool shade. Kagome quieted, wondering at the assessing, guarded look he pinned her with. Why should the mighty Lord Sesshoumaru guard himself against her of all people?

Pale lips quirked, and he hummed, giving a haughty, arrogant smirk. "Figure it out yourself."

Her mouth fell open. Ire immediately simmered real and hot beneath her skin. "That's not helpful, Sesshoumaru! The whole point of having friends is to share stuff! You can't expect people to know how you're feeling without you telling them, I'm not a mind reader."

He moved in slightly closer then, leaning down. Kagome swallowed but tensed her legs to keep from bending back, holding her ground and straightening her spine. It proved difficult. Sesshoumaru's cold features had a way of unnerving even the most hardened warriors. It was the lack of empathy or emotion in his animalistic gaze; the terrifying sense that something was missing; humanity.

But...

Kagome's eyes strayed to the magenta aura that only blazed thicker and larger, practically drowning her. The spell revealed, albeit without his consent; that Sesshoumaru was a man of feeling. In fact, whatever emotion plagued him, it roared stronger than any other persons she'd seen that day. Besides all that, she'd witnessed his care of others before. Been on the receiving end of it when he'd saved her a few times.

In the shade's hush, he tipped his head slightly, silver hair falling free from behind a pointed ear. "I am not a being that 'tells' other's information freely. Demons can glean enough from my body language, scent and actions enough to understand my feelings."

"And I appreciate that," Kagome said in a softer tone. "But I'm not a demon."

"Rin-"

"Is a child who has spent a lot of one-on-one time with you. I'd also wager that while she understands a lot of your intentions...she doesn't always understand you either."

Sesshoumaru begrudged her point, though seemed ever unwilling to let his mask slip to reveal anything.

Searching his gaze, she wet her dry lips. "What does the colour magenta mean to you?"

His aura flared, and Sesshoumaru surprised her by leaning back and stepping away. His features became a mix of things, the colours changing for the first time around him- grey, yellow, black, fluctuating on magenta and orange before settling on a particular shade of red that made her squeak.

No way- is he embarrassed?

"Why ask that?" he asked in a removed, steady tone. If she focused though, Kagome could pick up on the faint slip in his voice.

Kagome for once couldn't answer, heart hammering in her ribcage. She wasn't sure what to interpret from his reaction, but the colour obviously meant something to him. Shaking her head, Kagome waved it off.

"Never mind. I'll take your advice and work it out for myself."

He blinked and arched a brow, seeming to recover from his surprise. "Oh?"

Kagome made a noise of affirmation, turning on her heel and taking a few steps away. Pausing, she flashed him a smile over her shoulder. "And if I guess correctly, you agree to start telling me the important stuff. Deal?"

Sesshoumaru's face flashed with intrigue. Slowly, thin lips curved. His expression transformed into something quietly eager, the colour aura deepening into blazing magenta once more.

"Hn."

---

After asking near everyone she could think of for their input or ideas, Kagome ran into a brick wall, utterly stumped. That was- until she heard a certain irritatingly high, grating voice.

"But WHERE did Lord Sesshoumaru go?"

"I don't know, he said he was just passing through."

Jaken.

If anyone had insight into Sesshoumaru, it would be the little green imp. Kagome hurried in the direction of the helium sounding voice.

Finding Rin and Jaken by the village well, and struggling to pull a bucketful up together- Kagome quickly lent a hand, hefting the bucket up onto the side. The little girl grinned and thanked her, while Kagome crouched before Jaken, causing him to squeak.

"W-what is it? What do you want?!"

"I need to talk to you," Kagome said seriously. Resting her hands over her knees and leaning forward intently. "Magenta. Tell me your thoughts on that colour."

Bulbous yellow eyes widened. "Hah? Have you lost your senses, strange girl?"

Rin pouted and lifted the heavy bucket down, spilling some water. "Just do it, Master Jaken. If Kagome is asking, it must be important."

Kagome smiled a little, before schooling her features back into complete seriousness.

The imp sighed and squinted, before thinking for a moment. "Hmm, well. I would of course associate it with the most illustrious Lord Sesshoumaru!"

"H-huh? Why?"

"His cheek and wrist stripes are that exact shade! Don't you pay attention to anything?"

Kagome realised he was entirely correct. They matched up perfectly. Excitement built in her chest, feeling like she was FINALLY getting somewhere with the big mystery. "So it's linked with him… I see. What do you think the colour represents?"

"Haven't the faintest idea," he tilted his head back with a haughty sniff. "But since they adorn Lord Sesshoumaru, I can only conclude that it must be a royal, prideful colour."

Her elation fizzled out. Kagome wilted, sighing and standing once more. That didn't fit at all. No way would Sesshoumaru feel pride while looking at her.

Stepping away with the dismal thought that she was back at square one, she paused upon noticing a tugging on her sleeve. Rin clutched the trailing end of it, looking up at her in quiet earnest. She bit her lip and seemed to struggle with something. "I-I'm sure the answer is there if you just try asking more questions, Kagome."

The miko softened and petted her wild hair, smoothing the locks back from her face. "You really think so, kiddo? Because I'm kind of stumped right now."

"Mhm! I don't know what homework you're helping Shippo with, but if its causing you to take an interest in Lord Sesshoumaru, I encourage you to dig deeper!"

Kagome wasn't sure why she felt so strongly about the subject, her smile becoming a little confused. Nonetheless, she decided to take the advice and try again.

The right question…

Grabbing the back of Jaken's robes and tugging him back before he could walk off, Kagome knelt down. She decided to shift her focus. "Those markings on Sesshoumaru's face and wrists- I was wondering if they mean anything."

"Bah! Such things have a multitude of uses! Ahem!" he lifted up a tiny green claw. "Firstly, they are to show that he is poisonous."

Kagome stifled a giggle behind her hand, smiling with her eyes at Rin. "So he's like a flower."

"No! Nothing like a flower! He is deadly!"

"Poisonous flowers exist- but never mind that," she waved off. "What else?"

"Second, the positioning of the markings represents various things. The ones on mi lord's cheeks represent superior jaws, the wrists and ankles represent superior strength in his arms and legs, while the hips represent that he will produce superior offspring."

Kagome turned steadily red, wondering how low those stripes hooked down his hips. She hadn't even known he possessed hip stripes and was now picturing him half-naked. Kagome quickly shook the fantasy away. Rin didn't seem to understand that last part but thankfully remained quiet.

Jaken continued on, bolstered by such a captive audience and happy to talk about his favourite subject. "Lastly, they are to catch the interest of a mate."

"They... are?"

The imp nodded with vigour. "If you were the slightest bit observant, you'd notice that the vibrancy of his markings has emboldened recently. This means he is displaying for a female."

She had noticed that, actually, but Kagome hadn't thought anything of it. She felt close to a conclusion then, so achingly near to the truth. Swallowing to moisten her suddenly dry mouth, Kagome soldiered on.

"I saw that the ones on his cheeks had become bolder. What about his crescent moon?"

Jaken waved a tiny hand, "the moon is just to show which clan he belongs to. In relation to your original question, it is the magenta markings that are paramount. They are intrinsically linked with all that I noted; intimidation signals and mating."

Kagome nodded, inwardly reeling. She mulled this over and thanked him for the valuable insight. Magenta obviously meant more to Sesshoumaru than she'd ever thought.

In light of Jaken's words, Kagome found herself having to observe a certain set of emotions. Since mating was on the list, she reluctantly wandered in search of a known pervert.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as she took Miroku to one side. After explaining the situation in a succinct manner, she took a breath.

"I need you to get horny for your wife."

Miroku stared. He then pushed back his sleeves, clearing his throat and righting his collar. "My time has come."

Kagome's eyes widened and she held up her hands, "wait- I'm not asking to be weird or anything. M-maybe I should explain more."

He lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, patting. "No further explanation necessary, Lady Kagome. If this is in service of deeper understanding between allies, I am more than happy to help. Observe."

Miroku breezily walked away, gravitating towards Sango who had set down their son, attention on the crawling toddler. Kagome groaned and buried her face in her hands- shifting some fingers aside to witness the moment Miroku's calm blue aura darkened.

For a moment, panic leapt down her windpipe as it deepened into purple, hovering over magenta- before the aura settled on a lush hot pink.

The sound of a slap sounded out, Sango moving away from Miroku's groping hand. "I've told you before; not in front of the children!" she hissed.

Her husband laughed airly, stroking his cheek and giving her a fond smile. Kagome's heart warmed slightly, witnessing the hot pink glow into a warm pinkish red.

I think that must be the colour of love.

This, unfortunately, didn't answer any of her questions.

The possible things Sesshoumaru could be feeling toward her made the miko's stomach twist into knots. She went over what to say in her head a dozen or so times- and then a dozen more. It was no easy feat to wait on pins and needles for the demons' return. Inevitably though, word of his return reached her a few days later.

---

Sesshoumaru had been spotted by the trees bordering Inuyasha Forest so she'd set off alone immediately.

Since the sun beat down mercilessly, Kagome was unsurprised to find him by water. Elevated temperatures were likely brutal on those who regularly wore armour- evidenced by the fact that she walked in on him very much without it. Sesshoumaru knelt by a river, eyes closed and hankimono parted- exposing a thin sliver of firm, pale muscle. His head slightly dipped forward, hair held over one shoulder as one hand cupped cool water and splashed it over the back of his neck. Droplets ran down the length of his throat to dip around his collarbone- some sliding down his back. Sesshoumaru massaged the base of his skull, before cupping more water and repeating the process, long fingers running over the back of his glistening neck.

Kagome stared. She'd suddenly never been so thirsty in her life.

His lashes fluttered open to glance at her. His continued silence prompted her to clear her throat and murmur; "I'm not sure if I've got it right."

"Explain."

Kagome felt a blush rise to her cheeks and panic erupted in her chest. She suddenly wasn't ready. She wasn't nearly as ready for this as she needed to be. Approaching the Daiyoukai dressed in a white tank top and dungarees had not been the plan but she'd impulsively sought him out without thinking about it.

His voice turned softer, almost coaxing. "What conclusion did you reach?"

Kagome bit her lip and felt the need to explain her process of elimination. "First off; I feel like I should be honest with you. I can see the colours of people's emotions around them due to a spell Shippo used on me. That's why I was asking about magenta. It's...it's the emotion you keep feeling whenever you see me- I just had no idea what it meant."

Golden eyes cracked a fraction wider, exposing the liquid honey swimming inside, glinting in the afternoon sunlight with interest.

"I asked Jaken about the colour since he has an insight into you more sound than other people. He told me that magenta was linked to your markings- which can represent intimidation signals and m-mating interest."

He arched a brow, something unnamed flickering over his expression. Kagome began pacing back and forth before him. "So! The first thing I did was follow Inuyasha into a fight. There was a weasel youkai bothering a farmer. I noticed Inuyasha's aura turned a brownish, orangey-red during the fight and concluded that was likely aggression! So I figured you weren't feeling defensive around me," she gave a nervous giggle. Why was the sun so damn bright? The humidity only elevated the spike of nerves pricking the back of her neck.

"Next came the... other thing," her voice dimmed and Kagome evaded eye contact. "I noticed Miroku feeling uh...frisky around his wife. His aura turned hot pink- so it wasn't magenta- not that I thought you could ever feel that way about...me," she babbled. "Hell, I've consulted Shippo's scroll a thousand times. I've run through all the emotions we could find and- gah! I couldn't find anything that explained magenta. I guess I failed in figuring out what's bothering you," her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"You went to all that trouble?"

Kagome lifted her gaze to his, loosely holding her arms. "Well, yeah. I kind of realised that I wasn't being fair to you the other day. You shouldn't be expected to verbalise your problems if you're not comfortable doing so. It's a different method than what I'm used to in order to communicate- but if you're happy doing that I won't push you to open up to me."

Since she'd failed to work out his problems, however, Kagome grimly figured there was no hope of them being friends. The thought somewhat bothered her. Sesshoumaru was a solid, assuring presence to have around. It would've been nice to have a deeper insight into the inner mechanisms of his cerebral mind.

Maybe priestesses and demons just can't understand each other.

A shadow fell over her, bathing Kagome in shade. She looked up, finding his curious, burning gaze bearing down on her.

As usual, magenta coiled and expanded around him. So large and encompassing.

Sesshoumaru tilted his head slightly. "Some actions do not require words in order to understand them."

Kagome could only blink, face heating as he hooked a finger beneath her chin and tilted it up- before her heart burst into overdrive in time with lips pressing against hers.

Her squeak came out muffled, hands scrambling uselessly and finding his shoulders, quickly lurching away from the firm muscle to hover uselessly in the air. Sesshoumaru grabbed one of her hands and forced it to his broad shoulder, holding it there as he explored her open mouth.

The miko reeled, dazed eyes picking up the shining magenta aura before her lashes slid shut. Kagome let out a breathy noise as his tongue slid over hers, reciprocating for a moment before her mind caught up with the situation and- WHAT THE HELL WAS SHE DOING?

Kagome's palm pushed against his broad shoulder, ripping her mouth away from his and panting. Sesshoumaru remained close, breath shuddering slightly, gaze hooded.

"That-" she started, having to lick her lips. "That requires MANY words, buster. So many words are needed to explain what the hell just happened."

The Daiyoukai managed to look put out, eyes turning flat. "It seems your ignorance requires a lack of subtlety, but I do not mind. If it is necessary to have you- I will adapt and explain myself."

"To... have me?" Kagome's breath hitched. Somehow magenta was all she could see- his cheek markings so bold and bright.

Sesshoumaru's jaw ticked, eyes squinting and attention shifting away as he seemed to gather his thoughts and construct them onto his tongue.

"Magenta is the colour of love to inuyoukai."

He said it so easily. After all that confusion and so much second-guessing, Kagome was almost angry with him. Almost. The rest of her brain was too focused on processing the unthinkable thing he'd just said and the implications behind it.

"But...your markings…" she croaked.

"Have little to do with it- though Jaken's explanation was not incorrect."

Kagome shook her head, searching his face. "I just...I'm struggling to understand h-how? I mean, you can't feel that way about me."

"Why not?"

"B-because!" she squeaked, cheeks blazing red. "Isn't love a bit of a leap? You barely know me."

Sesshoumaru huffed, placid features shifting to become slightly guarded. He didn't know when it had started happening for he was in the middle before he even knew he had begun, but more and more, he sought her opinions and company. She spoke well and intelligently after all- had destroyed Naraku and the jewel with such power and finesse that had made his instincts stir. "I know enough. This is not something recent. I have watched... and wondered for some time."

"Wondered... what?"

"If it was possible to bridge the gap between us. Perhaps it was foolish to think we could be compatible."

He had a point. Even a spell hadn't helped her understand him any easier. But when Sesshoumaru slowly stepped back, quiet disappointment simmering behind his blank mask yet clear in his eyes- something like panic possessed her. Kagome grabbed his sleeve, blushing harder.

She wasn't sure why alarm had shot through her- but the idea of losing their soft, hopeful flickering flame before they'd even coaxed it brighter to see what heights it could reach felt like something she'd regret forever if she let him go.

Kagome stepped closer. "Not foolish. This is just really unexpected for me."

Golden eyes roved over her face questioningly.

"The colour of love is different for humans, so it never even crossed my mind that THAT was what you've been struggling with. Jaken mentioned you were displaying for a female but- wow," she murmured, gentling. "Thank you... for telling me. No one's ever said that to me before."

Sesshoumaru's expression warmed, just a touch. He inclined his head slightly and Kagome felt an odd flutter in her belly.

"I'm not in the same place as you emotionally but- if- if you'd want to try this human thing called 'dating' we could give it a shot and get to know each other better."

"Hn," Sesshoumaru gave her a considering look, and she almost thought he might decline before the ghost of a smile tilted up his lips. "What is 'dating?'"

Kagome's face burst into a grin, and she took his clawed hand. "You're gonna love it. It involves a lot of talking."

He gave a mock groan, aura glowing brighter.

Naturally, Shippo passed his test with flying colours. His sensei was particularly impressed by his observation of both human and inuyoukai emotions in particular.

He decided to use the spell on himself several months later, laughing and chasing Rin around the village, happy to see the yellow aura dancing around her. Something of note he noticed when rushing by was a certain miko and demon lord practising archery together in a field. As Kagome corrected his large stance, hand guiding his elbow down slightly as he aimed, the warm colours of pinkish red and magenta entwined, lacing like long, seeking fingers gently interlocking.

End