#also i wish more than just the first five tags counted for tag tracking

[queermentaldisaster]

“There's a Revolution Coming”, part three of “The Devil Made Me Do It; But I Also Kinda Wanted To”.

First thing's first. If you read this on AO3, please, please, please pay attention to the tags. I will add sufficient warnings for each chapter here as well, but this is very much a Dead Dove fic. What you see is what you get. So please, proceed with caution when you see the tws/tags.

Tags: @forestshadow-wolf @axelaxolotl09 @im-here-and-im-confused @bringinsexybackk69 @rainerestored @8-rae-rae-8 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist please inform me)

(Possible) tw: Children in captivity, mental breakdown, mentions of torture and mind control, discrimination towards demons, and implied child abuse. Proceed with caution.

Chapter 1 under the cut.

The helo landed, and Mirror grabbed Soap's bound wrists and began dragging him towards the military base. Soap's eyes trailed upwards, and his eyes narrowed. With the amount of security around this place, it reminded him of a castle. He looked back down, taking a deep breath. ‘Och, poor Si…he's probably terrified right now and masking it with anger…’ he thought. His thoughts were on Ghost, even as Mirror dragged him through the base. Then, he looked up, and saw just how many demons were here. More than a thousand. The rest must've come from all over the world, then. ‘How many demons did Meister break?’ Soap thought, as his mind drifted back to a conversation Ghost and him had while he was still recovering.

“You know, Meister tortured us to make us weak to mind control.” Ghost murmured. Soap's head snapped up from his sketchbook. “Mind control?” He asked. Ghost nodded. “Affirmative.” He brought his hand up to his neck. “He’d collar us, then attack us. He saw us as nothing more than tools.” Ghost's wings tightened around himself. Soap's eyes softened and he touched Ghost's hand. “Yer so much more than a tool to me, Simon. Yer as alive as the rest of us.” he murmured. Ghost looked back at Soap and his eyes spoke volumes. “Thanks, Johnny.”

A tear rolled down Soap's cheek. God, he hoped Ghost was looking for him. He was scared.

Mirror dragged him into a room, shoving him in and locking the door behind him. Soap fell to the floor, and knelt there, his hands clenched into fists. He let the tears begin rolling down his cheeks, as he tried not to sob. He was in the lion's den and all alone. Too weak to fight against demons and vampires and…whatever Shepard was. God, he'd never wished for anything, not even to be a monster…but now, he was cursing his human heritage. ‘Ah’m useless. Cannae even save maself, much less love Simon how he wants.’ He bit his tongue. ‘Ah’m pathetic. Fought tooth ‘n nail ta get where ah was, and now ah'm here. In an empty room, captured, unable to save maself.’ A sob escaped from the gag, and the dam broke. He curled up, sobbing.

•✧-----------------------------------✧•

He didn't know how long had passed, and he didn't care. He'd managed to get the gag out at some point, and he was now staring at the ceiling, counting the tiles. “Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six-” He was interrupted by the door flying open. Graves was standing there, his eyes narrowed. “Do you ever shut up!?” He snapped. Soap sat up, placing his bound wrists on his knees. “Ya ken, Graves, ye have a really bad track record with kidnapping. Twice in two months. Ghost isnae goin’ tae be happy with this.”

Graves's eyes narrowed. “I do not care what that beast thinks. He's nothing more than an animal, a tool to use as we see fit. He doesn't have feelings, he can't.” Soap's eyes narrowed. “...” He lunged at Graves, only to be tackled by one of the other demon guards. Graves's eyes narrowed. “Take him to the little room.” The demon nodded and dragged Soap off as Soap screamed his head off at Graves, in pure rage.

The demon threw Soap in another room, this one with three beds, and paper strewn around the room. He hit the ground roughly, and he let out a groan. He felt hands grab his binds and he almost struck the person…until he looked ahead…and saw a child with pale tannish skin, her right eye being a purple color, her left eye being a pink color, blonde hair, and tiny red horns. “Evelyn! He could be a threat!” came a voice. He turned his head and saw a girl, no older than fourteen, shielding a smaller boy. The girl had light grayish pinkish-purple hair, her right eye being orange and her left eye being a dark grayish magenta color. She had a burn scar by her right eye, and she had horns of a dull gold color that curved like a ram's. Soap looked around, spotting two other kids. His heart sank.

[oceangirl24]

20 Questions for Writers

Thanks @mrsmungus for the tag. ❤️

❣️How many works do you have on AO3?

13 total, including three fanart art gifts. The only writing I have is my current work. I'm bringing the old FFN stories over on another account.

❣️What is your total AO3 word count?

834,995- 1 million before the year's end would be nice.

❣️What fandoms do you write for?

So far only Boy Meets World. The fanart gifts have been in other fandoms.

❣️What are your top five fics by kudos? Autumn in Philadelphia Trilogy- 243

Flashbacks- 109

Christmas to Last a Lifetime- 94

Not too shabby for such a massive series with an OC as a main character.

❣️Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes. Eventually.

Ever single comment is incredibly important to me and I don't always have the spoons to respond the way I want to. Rather than rush a response, I wait until I can give it my full attention. There are times, however, when certain comments appear to go answered for months. Those are comments from people I am in touch with privately and have already thanked. I will respond to those in time as well.

❣️What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The Darkest Night without question.

❣️What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

At this point, probably Christmas to Last a Lifetime.

❣️Do you get hate on your fic?

Is having someone throw a tantrum in your comments hate?

The writer who did this was upset over how the first part of AiP ended because they did not read the tags or summary. They also complained about my OC being better than theirs and whined about liking Audrey more as though at 11 years old I created with Aud malicious intent to hurt them 20+ years later. 🙄

This was the person who also tried to push me out of the fandom, harassed me, and stole my work.

So, hate, no. Immature, entitled behavior, yes.

❣️Do you write smut?

No it's not my thing to read or write. My story is canon compliant and I'm staying true to the content of the show as well. Since it's a 90s kids' sitcom, situations were only dealt with to a certain degree.

❣️Do you write crossovers?

Technically. lol The AiP trilogy is a crossover with BMW and its sequel show, Girl Meets World, but since it's in the same universe I don't count it.

I am in the works of doing a real crossover that I'm really excited about, hopefully soon.

❣️Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes. See the hate on fics response.

I debated how much to say since my socials are still being monitored but you know what, I don't care.

This person stole big chunks of my work from three of my stories and readers have noticed. That's how I became aware of it. Two readers brought it to my attention and just recently another mentioned it also.

I've dealt with it thanks to my dear friends who have had my back through this year + long ordeal.

And ngl, it was satisfying to see her panic and meltdown when the report was submitted and rush her ending. The subsequent attempts to cover her tracks have been popcorn worthy as they have been both comical and pathetic.

Anyone who knows me will tell you I'm too nice and give too much benefit of the doubt which is why no one outside of my friends' circle has seen the massive report on the theft and harrassment.

However, should you dear [REDACTED] try it again, I'm holding onto that report and won't be so nice the second time around. It won't be your friend who's been asking for the link since December 8th that I'll give it to either.

❣️Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge.

❣️Have you ever co-written a fic?

Not yet!!! But soon and I'm so excited.

❣️What's your all-time favorite ship?

As for canon ship, they change all the time, but currently it's

❣️What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

At this point it's looking like Birthday Wishes. lol I mean, I have it outlined to the end and the next chapter is almost ready to go, but I'm prioritizing Saudade and have little time for BW, unfortunately.

❣️What are your writing strengths?

I'm not sure. May be characterization? Possibly world building and character development.

❣️What are your writing weaknesses?

Conciseness. lol Also SPAG editing. My brain skips words like crazy when writing and even editing. No matter how many times I go over things, I miss so much.

❣️Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I avoid this personally because I know enough that I'd mess it up. And I only know Swedish which isn't really a language that figures into my work naturally.

As for fics I'm not writing, it really depends on how it's done.

❣️First fandom you wrote for?

Boy Meets World. First published was Labyrinth.

❣️Favorite fic you've ever written?

Ah, how to chose. Autumn in Philadelphia trilogy. I can't get anymore specific than that. lol

No pressure tags to play for: @axolotlsupremacyowo @tsunderesalty @amberlide @winterlovesong1 @justanotherpersonwhowrites @obscureobsidiandraws @stealing-your-kittens @bees-and-sunshine @ligercat

If anyone would like to be included in the tags, please let me know and I'll be sure to get you next time.

[letters-from-dekarios]

the tortured poets department (gale’s version)

tracks one through five

summary: an analyzation of TTPD with comparisons to gale dekarios’ story and life. some generalized things are part of the version of gale i’ve made in my mind that makes sense for his character to me.

or: me rambling about the TTPD songs and how each lyric relates to gale dekarios.

word count: 3.8k

tags: taylor swift is mothering with this new album, gale dekarios, i am mystra’s hateclub ceo, most of these songs are about their breakup sorry if i reiterate things a million times, MENTIONS OF S/H & SUICIDE. DO NOT READ IF THESE THINGS TRIGGER YOU.

author’s note: this multi-part series is going to be written in a much more casual style than my traditional fanfics. if you notice me rambling or screaming for like three sentences straight, don't be alarmed, I did spell check everything!

First and foremost, I absolutely LOVE this album. Artistically and lyrically, this is one of Taylor’s most sophisticated albums. It’s a story not really about boys or love or anything (not in the same way that other albums/songs have been, at least. take ‘love story’ or ‘enchanted’ for example), but instead is about her. Yes, her songs have technically always been about her. But this album has such a different ring to it. It’s about her and her feelings and about telling her story to the world, no matter if it makes people upset. This album is so unapologetically Taylor Swift that it is simply just… beautiful. I love this album SO much.

Now… let’s get into it!

fortnight;

I see this song both from the perspective of Gale and that of Mystra thinking of Gale.

“I was a functioning alcoholic till nobody noticed my new aesthetic”

makes me think of Gale hiding in his tower for a whole Year after receiving the orb. He and Mystra’s relationship wasn’t the longest either had ever had, but the breaking it off still hurt more than anything he’d ever experienced.

“All of this to say I hope you're okay/But you're the reason/And no one here's to blame/But what about your quiet treason?”

THIS IS SO. Gale knows that he’s, he was at fault for some of it too. But her treason against him (leaving him to die) goes overlooked by SO many. Even Gale overlooks her misdemeanors because he feels like he is ALSO at fault, and STILL wishes her the best despite it all.

“And for a fortnight there, we were forever/Run into you sometimes, ask about the weather/Now you're in my backyard, turned into good neighbors/Your wife waters flowers, I wanna kill her”

Metaphorically, they were together for a ���fortnight”. They weren’t together for a Long time romantically, so their relationship wasn’t a long one. But now every time he uses the Weave or connects with her it’s like everything has changed and he has to play nice for fear of losing whatever friendship they had. And I’m sure some part of Gale is angry at Elminster for still being her Chosen and still having her affection (‘your wife waters flowers’).

“All my mornings are Mondays stuck in an endless February/I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary”

Even though February is the shortest month, I personally interpret the analogy like ‘this was short, but it feels longer’ and with ‘all my mornings are Mondays’ it’s like starting over time and time again but always ending up at the start. With Gale, even though their time together was futile, he’s still stuck on it. No matter how hard he tries, the effects of Mystra’s romantic loss on him is Hard. His mind always wraps back around to it.

“I love you, it’s ruining my life”

Gale still talked about Mystra and was willing to give up his life for her. He would’ve done Anything for her.

“Thought of calling you, but you won’t pick up”

Gale still tries to reach out to her even though he Knows she won’t listen to him. Even though he Knows she wants nothing to do with him right now, he still tries to reach her.

“Move to Florida, buy the car you want/buy it won’t start till I touch, touch, touch you”

He can move on and try to escape it all but no matter what he does, Mystra is Always There. She always will be. Because without her and her power, he has nothing. And it messes with him Terribly.

the tortured poets department;

“You’re in self-sabatoge mode, throwing spikes down on the road”

Mystra KNEW WHAT HE WAS DOING. How could she not?? How could she not know the magic he was using and not see what he was trying to do for her? He was destroying their relationship long before the tome and she had the Audacity to not say anything about it.

However, on Gale’s end, “But I've seen this episode and still loved the show”

LITERALLY KARSUS’ FOLLY. Gale was so aware of what Karsus had done and knew of his mistakes and sought to not be like him… yet he did something similar because he thought that the rest of the ‘show’ or relationship in this case could be different and wouldn’t affect the rest of it.

BUT, then, “And who's gonna hold you like me?/And who's gonna know you, if not me?”

Mystra knows he can try to move on, but she will always be there at the forefront of his mind. He can attempt to escape, but she is Always There.

“"You're not Dylan Thomas, I'm not Patti Smith/This ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we'rе modern idiots"”

I take this lyric as something Mystra says in a way to Gale. Kind of how she tells him to “be contented” (yes I reference this line a lot). Mystra tries to tell him that their love is not the grandest and not legendary. It is going to end. While she doesn’t refer to herself as an idiot, I feel the line can be taken as she sees the love itself as idiotic. She’s had so many lovers that this with Gale is just.. pointless, in a sense? She never had any intention of furthering his magic any more than it had been, so his idea with her is stupid.

“But you awaken with dread, pounding nails in your head/But I’ve read this one before, where you come undone”

She’s had So Many Chosen and even had someone try and literally usurp her power before. She knew what she was doing with him, even if Gale had no clue what was going to happen.

“Sometimes, I wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me/But you told Lucy you'd kill yourself if I ever leave/And I had said that to Jack about you, so I felt seen/Everyone we know understands why it's meant to be”

GALE IS INSECURE. MYSTRA TELLS HIM TO BE CONTENT AND HE TRIES TO!!!! He really Really tries to but cannot bring himself to. People who still just see him as her Chosen find little to no issue because they think he’s this great, grand, all-powerful wizard so it makes Sense.

“At dinner, you take my ring off my middle finger/And put it on the one people put wedding rings on/And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding”

MYSTRA. She tells him to be contented even when he’s begging for more and wants to know her more intimately and instead of squashing the idea he had of becoming something greater with her, she just lets him SIT WITH THE IDEA. KNOWING FULL WELL WHAT HE WOULD'VE DONE AND WHAT HE WANTED TO DO. This song is so Mystra saying that Gale will never find anything greater than her and Gale’s heartbreak and realization over that fact.

my boy only breaks his favorite toys;

“Oh, here we go again/The voices in his head/Called the rain to end our days of wild”

I take this as Mystra seeing Gale and knowing that she was going to start something with him. After all, she had to know of his magic usage even as a small child up until she was back and fully alive again. In my headcanons/ideas she was appearing to him perhaps not with full strength but still showing herself even when he was 16/17. She also would’ve known the ideas in his head of growing more powerful and trying to love her with every part of himself.

“The sickest army doll/Purchased at the mall/Rivulets descend my plastic smile”

Mystra chose him much like one chooses a doll they purchase. She used him and abused him, and forced him to carry his fake plastic smile even when he had tears streaming down his face when she left him.

“But you should’ve seen him when he first got me”

GALES UTTER HAPPINESS OVER BEING CHOSEN BY MYSTRA? He had been practicing since he was a child. Mystra was his absolute everything!!

“My boy only breaks his favorite toys, toys, oh/I'm queen of sand castles he destroys, oh, oh”

AHHH. No matter how hard Gale could’ve and was trying, he crumbled the relationship in his hands. He didn’t mean to, but it happened regardless. Also, ‘queen of sandcastles he destroys’ THINKING that he was standing on stable ground with Mystra, before realizing that it was easy to ruin and never stable to begin with. At the same time, though, Mystra thinking that she had Gale exactly where she wanted him and then realizing that he was going down a path she wouldn’t support. But instead of helping him rebuild she just let him sit with his destruction.

“There was a litany of reasons why/We could've playеd for keeps this time”

both with Mystra and Gale, either of them could’ve fought to maintain the relationship. But Gale was the only one who actually… did.

“I know I'm just repeating mysеlf/Put me back on my shelf/But first, pull the string/And I'll tell you that he runs/Because he loves me (He loves me)”

Gale constantly says the same thing over and over about Mystra and their relationship. He has hope! But he knows she’s going to ‘put [him] back on [her] shelf’ and no longer play with him. She/Tav pulls his string (like Woody/Jessie, pulling their string makes them say their pre-recorded phrases) and he just repeats the idea that he can gain her forgiveness again and that she can love him again. I also relate the ‘repeating myself’ and ‘pull the string’ to one another, too. No matter how many times you pull the string, the doll just repeats the same phrases over and over again. In this case, we know Gale can and does change his tune if you let him, but if he doesn’t and he explodes he keeps the same exact idea for the rest of the game.

“Once I fix me/He's gonna miss me”

crying because Gale consistently thinks that if he does everything Mystra asks that she will forgive him and things can go back to how they were.

“Just say when, I'd play again/He was my best friend down at the sandlot/I felt more when we played pretend/Than with all the Kens/'Cause he took me out of my box”

In a heartbeat, Gale would go back to Mystra and return to their dysfunction. Their relationship was like ‘playing pretend’ and when brought back to reality it was much harsher. He felt more because it was so unrealistic and not expected to last, much like how when you made up stories playing pretend, you would start new ones over and over again. She ‘took [him] out of [his] box’ only to ‘put [him] back on [his] shelf’ but the idea that he was wanted was what made it worth it.

“Stole my tortured heart/Left all these broken parts/Told me I'm better off/But I'm not/I'm not, I'm not”

this is a prevalent theme in all of the album, being ‘stolen’ or ‘taken’ and then being ‘broken’ or ruined, before being casted aside for the idea of being ‘better off’. Gale thinks he’s not better off and would prefer being taken and toyed with, but in reality it’s more beneficial to him. It’s the process of it that hurts.

down bad;

I cannot even begin to comprehend this one. In Taylor’s explanation of this song she states that the metaphor for love-bombing is of an alien taking someone and showing them the galaxy and then sending them home when they really liked it there. And that is just. UGH.

“Did you really beam me up/In a cloud of sparkling dust/Just to do experiments on?/Tell me I was the chosen one/Showed me that this world is bigger than us/Then sent me back where I came from”

THIS. “Tell me i was the chosen one” She did!!! She literally picked Gale as her chosen and then told him to “be contented” as if he wouldn’t be striving for more. She gave him a small slice of godhood and expected him to not want more?

“Now I'm down bad, cryin' at the gym/Everything comes out teenage petulance/"Fuck it if I can't have him"/"I might just die, it would make no difference"”

Gale locked himself in his tower for a whole Year, nearly dying because he was so depressed over everything. Yes, he also nearly died because of the orb, BUT he mostly locked himself away because of his mourning the relationship.

“Down bad, wakin' up in blood/Starin' at the sky, come back and pick me up/Fuck it if I can't have us/I might just not get up, I might stay”

Had Tara not been there, I do not think Gale would’ve lived. 100% he would’ve died after that first year because he refused to get out of bed. He just wanted Mystra and to have the Weave and without that he was willing to die.

“Did you take all my old clothes/Just to leave me here, naked and alone/In a field in my same old town/That somehow seems so hollow now?/They'll say I'm nuts if I talk about/The existence of you”

THIS??? She took away his abilities (his old self) and left him with, essentially, nothing. And then expected him to just be in Waterdeep and be fine? And then when he’s abducted, if you don’t romance him and/or have him explode for you, he LITERALLY gets called crazy for talking about Mystra. Literally. I’m 90% sure you can tell him to shut up when he tells you the truth about the orb.

“I loved your hostile takeovers/Encounters closer and closer/All your indecent exposures/How dare you say that it's—“

AUGH. Whenever Gale talks about Mystra and how she appeared to him, no matter how much she’s hurt him, he still loves her? He still reminisces on those moments with love and adoration for her despite all the pain that came with it. Everything they did he loved, and her tossing him aside Hurt. Also the sadness in her voice as she says “how dare you say it’s—“ because she ALMOST says ‘over’ but it’s choked back because if she says it she’ll start crying. The same with Gale. He knows in his heart that it’s over but this part of him can’t handle the fact that it is and that Mystra would end it like that.

“I'll build you a fort on some planet/Where they can all understand it/How dare you think it's romantic/Leaving me safe and stranded/'Cause fuck it, I was in love/So fuck you if I can't have us/'Cause fuck it, I was in love”

Gale was SO ready to explore more with Mystra and have her in her entirety. Was it a bit selfish trying to be a god to do that? Yes. BUT she literally left him completely alone after having the orb!! He wanted so much with her and wanted to be able to expand his abilities to match her and instead she tossed him aside like she was “helping” him but really she was destroying him. He was so in love with her (and, yes, the weave too) that he would’ve done everything. Then as the game goes on you can see his progression to understanding how she hurt him and how he’s allowed to be angry about it.

so long, london;

this is one of my FAVORITE songs on this album. the intro is so beautiful and so haunting. this song also makes me SO sad.

“I saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist/I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift/Pulled him in tighter each time he was driftin' away”

UGH OKAY. Metaphorically, the fairy lights were like that light at the end of the tunnel. But the mist blocks them out, making it hard to tell if there really is this fantasy-like future ahead or if it’s your mind playing tricks on you. With Gale, he wanted so desperately to have a happy ending. And yes, he does eventually get it depending on how you play, but when it comes to Mystra and everything, he really… doesn’t? He tries so hard to carry the ‘rift’ or the breaking of their foundation. Every time Mystra pulls away from him, he tries to pull her close and hold onto that fantasy he thinks he’s going to have.

“My spine split from carrying us up the hill/Wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill/I stopped tryna make him laugh, stopped tryna drill the safe”

CARRYING US UP THE HILL? SISYPHUS (‘thanK you aIMee’ also has a similar lyric that makes me think of sisyphus as well but that will be saved for that song). Punished to forever push that stone up the hill with no end, never being free from the weight. Not only is she trying to push and carry this weight up, she also is soaked and her bones are tired. She has so much on her own plate that trying to keep up this relationship and keep it going is only making everything else worse. In the same sense, Gale kept trying to keep this dying relationship going. Rather than it being easy, everything just kept piling on top of one another and pulling him down more and more. Eventually, he let’s go of it and stops trying to win her over. He stops trying to ‘drill the safe’, or, stops trying to get something that was never his to begin with. Something that is locked away for a reason.

“Thinkin', "How much sad did you think I had/Did you think I had in me?"/Oh, the tragedy/So long, London/You'll find someone”

MYSTRA THINKING HE COULD HANDLE IT ALL? And then just leaving him. Leaving him to deal with it all on his own. The ‘so long, London’ to me is both Gale saying goodbye to the Weave AND Waterdeep. Obviously he returns to Waterdeep (if he doesn’t explode) but it’s not the same as how he went in. He’s much different when he returns. Also, he knows Mystra will find someone else. He has no worries about that. In the same sense, Mystra knows Gale will find someone else too. Even if he’s still holding onto parts of her.

“I didn't opt in to be your odd man out/I founded the club she's heard great things about/I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath”

Gale went into it thinking he would have her forever. At least, his concept of forever. He didn’t want Mystra or the Weave if it meant that, one day, he might be closed out from it all. He left everything behind for her, and yet she left him behind in his tower to rot.

“I stopped CPR, after all, it's no use/The spirit was gone, we would never come to”

He tried so, so incredibly hard to bring the relationship back to life. But, eventually, he had to give up and realize that help wasn’t coming, it was long gone, and he had to let go. “And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free” THIS LYRIC ALONE. And the way Taylor says ‘free’ with the shake in her voice… This is. I feel like, deep down, Gale is genuinely hurt and angry with Mystra for all she did. And not just her, Elminster, too. If someone would’ve realized what was going on, he could’ve been saved. But, instead, he dedicated all his youth, his time, his energy, all to her. All to the Weave. Only for it to mean nothing in the end.

“And you say I abandoned the ship/But I was going down with it/My white-knuckle dying grip/Holding tight to your quiet resentment”

THIS?? Mystra saying that Gale was trying to usurp her authority or take over her magic when in reality all he wanted was to love her? Her accusing him of essentially trying to kill her when really he just wanted to be closer to her. He literally was willing to do anything for her, even after she hurt him he was willing to die for her. He tried holding on so so hard, that ‘white knuckle dying grip’ showing how tightly he was gripping onto this relationship. For better or for worse he was willing to drown if it meant he still had a piece of that relationship.

“And my friends said it isn't right to be scared/Every day of a love affair/Every breath feels like rarest air/When you're not sure if he wants to be there”

UGGHHHHH. Tav telling Gale pretty much that he doesn’t have to do this? He doesn’t have to hold onto Mystra and follow her every beck and call and he has to realize that. Every day Mystra finds someone else or focuses her attention on another Chosen, he’s so scared he’s going to lose her forever. Every moment she doesn’t speak to him or ignores him, he fears he’s going to have everything taken away from him. UGHHH.

“You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?/I died on the altar waitin' for the proof/You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days”

THIS. LYRIC. TOO. Mystra promised him that she loved him, that she was essentially as devoted to him, but every moment Gale spent waiting for her to prove that, to show the same amount of love that he held for her, she failed him. She left him at the altar alone with all his hopes and dreams. She sacrificed him, or wanted him to sacrifice himself, really, for her. So she could keep going and not have to deal with him anymore.

“And I'm just getting color back into my face/I'm just mad as hell 'cause I loved this place for”

GALE FINALLY BEING ABLE TO BE HIMSELF AGAIN!! When he realizes he can trust Tav and doesn’t need to hide these parts of himself.. and then he tells them his secrets and he apologizes for keeping them but he was so wounded from his last relationship that he doesn’t know what to do. Then he gets color back into his face and he’s finally able to heal from it all. And he’s so mad because he loved the Weave and he loved being so talented with it but it’s all in the past and it’s all lost to him now. Even though he still has it but.. you get the picture. UGHH THIS SONG. THIS SONG!!

If you made it this far, thank you for sticking along! My mind works in weird ways when it comes to analyzing/reviewing lyrics. I tend to take things very literally so some of my interpretations are viewed that way!

Either way, I hope you enjoyed. Be on the lookout for tracks six through ten next!

[palfriendpatine66]

20 Question Fic Writer Tag

1.) How many works do you have on ao3?

19, soon to be 20! ( three are just little prompt fills/drabbles that I’ve considered removing but also – I want to be able to find them again just in case they ever turn into something more so.)

2.) What's your ao3 word count? 

306, 375

3.) What fandoms do you write for? 

Star Wars. That’s it, and probably all it will ever be (except for my crazy crossover aus). It’s a full time job over here.

4.) What are your top five fics by kudos?

DX:Lovesick (I had a really weird moment when this passed PIP in the kudos count. Like, I love it and was really proud of it, but also: how dare it). Anakin is an accident prone college student who winds up in the care of one very hot Dr. Obi-Wan Kenobi

Pining in Preschool: My first ever fic (started exactly one year ago!) Anakin is trying his best to be a good dad to his twins, and that probably means he shouldn’t be falling for their preschool teacher.

Hide Here Often: This is bottom Obi-Wan smutty one shot

Helicopter Dad: This is a continuation of Pining in Preschool: 4 times that Anakin was a Helicopter parent and one time Obi-Wan beat him to it. I’ve been intending to do a part two with Obi-Wan ever since, but it hasn’t happened yet.

With a Cherry on Top: This is a ridiculous continuation of Pining in Preschool – Obi-Wan and Anakin get in a fight about eating in bed that results in a sex ban until one of them backs down. Spoiler alert: it ends with a sexy food in bed scenario because *of course* if they break they have to prove a point about it

5.) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to always yes. I used to have a 100% track record, and I really wish I was maintaining it. Comments are my lifeblood. I literally cannot tell you how important receiving comments is to me, it’s like, a problem honestly, and so it’s definitely something I want to encourage. I try to always respond to a comment at least as an acknowledgement of “I appreciate you were here and took the time to let me know you liked this”. BUT also I genuinely love engaging about my fics and am more than happy to go on my “Author’s Commentary” spiel at any given moment.

Life’s kind of been shit lately, and I’ve had a hard time if I don’t respond to comments right away as they come in they get lost in my inbox. Also. ADHD.

6.) What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

OoOoOo Window AU – to be revealed tomorrow. I don’t have the ending for Criminal Minds fully written, but even though it might be a “happy ending” it’s not going to be a happy ending, if you know what I mean. OH BUT if I ever write my post order 66 Obi-Wan on Tatooine vague idea for which the working title is “Obi-Wan Sads”. Yeah. That will probably be the worst.

7.) What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmm. Pining for Preschool probably. It ends on a very high note, although also it’s not really an ending because I continued it into a potentially never ending series that seems to be 90% fluff after the angst I put them through in the original fic.

Also Center Stage (dance au)was a happy ending for sure.

8.) Do you get hate on fics?

No, generally all my comments are very positive. There was a weird moment in DX:Lovesick where I wasn’t necessarily getting the hate but Obi-Wan was, and he was getting a lot of it. I wasn’t upset by the comments so much as I was worried that I didn’t write well/clear enough to convey the situation as I thought I was, but I settled on people are going to read their own situations into stories and interpret it differently than intended and that’s okay.

9.) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes. The Obi-Wan and Anakin kind.

10.) Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I had a fit of insanity and wrote an Obikin Titanic au.

11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not. That would be sad

12.) Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don’t think so no

13.) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Nope! I think I have too much anxiety to commit to doing this, even with the right people. Put expectations on things and I just…can’t.

14.) What's your all time favorite ship?

IDK man. Kovu and Kiara from Lion King II: Simba’s Pride

15.) What's a WIP you'd like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Right at the time I started writing PiP I started a time travel (?) au that resulted in amnesiac Knight Skywalker as master to padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi right when he rejoins the order after returning from Melida/Daan, instead of rejoining Qui-Gon. I would be shocked if I ever get back to thin, I really jumped the gun and there’s so much of it I don’t have in me, but…there’s still something about it that calls to me.

16.) What are your writing strengths?

I always feel super awkward answering this, but I feel pretty good about capturing Obi-Wan and Anakin’s voices, especially their internal voices (if that makes sense) so that they still feel like them in other universes

17.) What are your writing weaknesses?

Oh gosh. I am learning as I go. Outlining/having a plan and sticking to it vs. just winging it as I go along. Knowing where paragraphs should start and end – which feels like you should just *know* but I don’t. Descriptions.

18.) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Great! But I’m not fluent enough in anything to do it

19.) First fandom you wrote for?

Star Wars – Hiiiii!

Also, though, the only other stuff I wrote was Star Wars but the year was 2005 and it was for an audience of one (me!). Your Pal was a nerd who carried around a little notebook and wrote down every piece of jedi wisdom and quotes I encountered while I wrote about Obi-Wan and his OC apprentice who was *definitely*not*me* (their name was literally an anagram of my name lol) on their long term undercover mission on Earth, among other things.

20.) Favorite fic you've ever written?

This varies by the mood. I genuinely love Pining in Preschool, and it will always have a really special place in my heart. Dx:Lovesick was a very fun ride, I really and truly enjoyed writing it  and I feel like it holds up. Right now I’m pretty attached to Criminal Minds, for a completely different dynamic and take on obikin.

No pressure tag to @renlyslittlerose and @grapenehifics

[writersmorgue]

Febuwhump Day 3 - muzzled

Read on ao3

word count: 913

TWs in the tags

note: me- i gotta pick someone other than hitoshi bc it's so expected at this point. also me- *writes this*

enjoy the fluffy whump while it lasts

╞╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╡

Hitoshi is tired of running. 

Granted, it's only been about an hour, but every time he slows he’s bombarded by the mental image of being found and dragged back to prison. And only being able to breathe through his nose isn’t doing wonders for his stamina either. 

He’d been thinking about escaping since the last foster family, but this one pushed him overboard. He’s sure they won’t bother to tell the adoption agency anyway, not that they’d care. Eleven was typically a little young to let slip, but for particularly troubled cases they’d always make exceptions. 

And this troubled case needs to get this stupid cage off of his face before he starves to death. 

But running first. 

Priorities, Hitoshi.

He rounds a corner, slowing down from his sprint when he hears a loud crash. 

“Listener! Back up!” Someone shouts at him. He turns toward the noise, hesitating just enough for whatever he was being warned about to actually happen. 

Something heavy smacks him in the chest, and the world goes dark. 

-

Hitoshi is tired of running. 

If he was told that joining the hero course in second year would entail this kind of physical activity, he might’ve considered sticking to gen ed. 

“THREE MORE LAPS GUYS C’MON! CIVILIANS AREN’T GONNA SAVE THEMSELVES!” Mic shouts from his fucking chair. 

“Well they could-” Kaminari spits from next to him.

“I don’t think running seven miles is gonna help,” Todoroki pants from his other side.

“Don’t you have like, cool son privileges? Can you ask him to stop?” Mina asks from in front of them where she’s trying to keep up with Kirishima and Sero. 

Shinsou rolls his eyes, “Maybe if I was Eri, but a sweaty lump of teenage hormones isn’t exactly puppy eyes material.”

“He listens to Aizawa, though,” Sero calls. 

“Yeah well, maybe it’s not foolproof logic. And anyway, we’re almost-”

“HITOSHI-”

He barely manages to not faceplant on the track like an idiot. 

“Wh- Aizawa?” He frowns at his dad, who is supposed to be in a meeting right now. 

“Hitoshi it happened, come on. MIC YOU TOO!”

“What do you mean it happened?! I don’t remember older me being all gross and sweaty?” He growls, leaving his bewildered friends behind to stomp after the man. 

Mic yells something about a free period and his classmates shout out some confused cheers as they all make their way out of the gym. 

Turns out older him must’ve just looked great in comparison to how Hitoshi felt at the time. 

As soon as he walks into the medbay he’s welcomed by the sight of a boney child with what looks to be a medieval torture device strapped to his face. 

The cage, Hitoshi’s foster brother called it. 

Really it was a particularly uncomfortable dog muzzle with some of the wires cut to make it impossible for the wearer to open their mouth without puncturing skin. It was effective at shutting him up, something foster parents were a big fan of. 

“Hey, uh, kid,” He frowns, looking up at Recovery Girl who is busy trying to pry the muzzle off. She looks to be having a bit of trouble. Hitoshi wishes he could help, but he never did figure out how to get it off himself. “You can sign.”

‘Are you me? Is it safe here?’

Ah, naturally he’d go for the youngest in the room.

“Yeah, we’re at UA. You know Eraserhead and Present Mic, right?” He asks, gesturing to the two respectively. 

He’s sure he figured that out already, but it doesn’t hurt to familiarize him some more. 

‘It’s them?’ Younger him asks incredulously, wide eyes darting between him and his dads. 

“Yeah. You’re not dreaming, you were hit by a quirk that sent you five years in the future.”

‘And we’re actually at UA?’ Little him assesses his training uniform, ‘In the hero course?’

Hitoshi chuckles, “Yeah, transferred this year. Don’t worry, you start in Gen Ed like we planned.”

‘But the fosters-’

Hitoshi shakes his head, “Kid, the day we ran away was the last day I ever saw them. You’re out. You’re gonna get a family who loves you like you deserve.”

The final click of Hitoshi’s muzzle breaking echoes through the room, but he’s still speechless when it finally comes off his face. 

His cheeks move slightly as he runs his tongue over his gums like he always did when the cage came off. 

“You’re serious?” His voice is small and gravelly as he warms up his vocal cords. 

“Absolutely, listener. After you re-appeared we took you straight home, the cats fell in love instantly,” Mic answers for him, giving the boy a watery smile. 

Aizawa steps up behind his husband a sets a hand on his shoulder, “You’re still with us. It’s not a temporary solution, Hitoshi. We’re your family.”

Hitoshi’s eyes burn. It’s a nice reminder for him, even now, that he’s loved. He can tell it means that and so much more to his younger self. 

Tears are streaming down his cheeks. His body is numb to the pain of Recovery Girl disinfecting his cuts as he takes in the information. 

No more foster family, no more abuse, no more cage. 

He has a real family now.

“We’re gonna be a hero, dude. Everything gets better.” Hitoshi smiles, watching fondly as Hizashi leans down to give little him a hug. 

His first hug, Hitoshi subconsciously acknowledges, and he gets to watch. 

He really is grateful.

[drpanda99]

5-4-3-2-1 Fic retrospective + 2023 Things

I was tagged by @dragongirlg-fics - please go and check out her writing and translations! =D

Post the following: -top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular) -your top 4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year -your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year -your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year -and your number 1 favorite line you’ve written this year!

Answers under the cut.

Top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022:

Collateral Circulation; and other protective factors: This was my WIPbang fic that I spent almost the entirety of 2022 working on. This is my longest piece of writing ever and something I'm extremely proud I wrote! One of my friends was worried because of how ambitious my plans for this fic was at first, but I managed to do exactly what I set out to do! I imagined it kind of as one of those medical shows where you follow different characters and cut back and forth between their lives. I imagined the hospital as a living, working thing filled with all these characters with their individual lives and problems; we get to follow wangxian closely, but everyone else has their own backgrounds etc going on. Maybe one day I'll write a commentary on what everyone's backgrounds and stories are!

[Podfic] I Don't Want to Debut! by Countingcr0ws: This was my first big podfic and I spent many, many hours working on it. I upgraded my setup once in the middle and had to re-record the first two chapters to match the audio! This was also my first time incorporating music throughout a podfic. I also transcribed Chuang 2021's theme song into Ableton so I could have the midi track! That was something I was very worried about, but it turned out well in the end.

Five Shades of Home: This was my piece for the Chinese Diaspora event. I had actually forgotten what I had written, but I recently went back to reread it and I was surprised by how well I was able to intertwine the themes of family, grief, and different kinds of love into the fic! I wrote it around this time last year, so i had forgotten so much about it. But yay for cooking with your family and difficult conversations about grief!

root your love a little deeper: I wrote this as a pinch-hit with like 3 days?? for a remix event. It was my first time writing sci-fi and I had to come up with a bunch of worldbuilding as I went, but I ended up really happy about the overall fic and how I kept the themes of the original while putting my own spin on things. It was one I've read back a few times and still enjoy a lot!

your heart of shadows, your eyes like stars: This was the first fic I ever posted as a WIP (because I have a terrible fear of not finishing a fic I started) and it helped me get over a lot of anxiety around expectations/my working speed/etc. I was super surprised at how many people like it! It started out as a horny short scene, but then i had to fill in the backstory to get to where I wanted to go. It developed a much bigger plot than I anticipated, but I'm proud I pulled it off in the end! I'm also glad I got to explore some of the interesting parts of omegaji and the juiciness of LWJ's character against societal expectations of gender roles, love, and duty. I haven't read back over it yet, but it was a really fun experience (and I didn't have to edit the entire fic all at once, which was nice).

Your top 4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year:

Secret bottomji big bang fic: Ooooh I'm so excited about this! I'm about 20k into it with an expected word count of around 60k. This could likely balloon because the plot got more complex, but that's ok! It's still a secret, but let's just say it incorporates some of my fave AU elements and I'm going way too hard on the structure of the fic lol.

Modern cultivation/poetry AU: This was my Nano project in November for a lack of other things to work on, but I'm hoping to release it this year! This started out as a modern with cultivation AU that would be released simultaneously with a "book" of poetry that LWJ either writes or studies from. I love the idea of making the reference material for within a fic and it isn't something I've seen that often! I don't know if I'm explaining it well, but it's me working on a fic + a poetry collection as LWJ at the same time. The cultivation part has taken over it, so I'm not quite sure how I'm gonna write myself out of this hole but oh well, I'm the author!

Wangxian incense burner CNC fic: set in a dream of the Cloud Recesses era where LWJ does WWX exactly as hard as he deserves lol. Inspired by maotuan's uncensored panels and WWX's talk about "why didn't you take me back then, you should have held me down and forced me, etc."

A non wangxian secret exchange fic: My first time (in this fandom) writing a non-wangxian main pairing! Details are still a secret, but I look forward to stretching my fingers into exploring other characters and dynamics.

Your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year:

Biggest is writing at all! I had not written prose for fun in over a decade when I rejoined fandom in late 2020, and I had barely started writing again. Fandom, writing, and podfic helped pull me out of a few months of really bad depression early in the year and it's given me comfort that I can make it through even the hardest of times. I've managed to keep writing despite other things in life going wrong and I'm super proud I've kept this up because writing was one of the first things I ever loved!

My dialogue writing has gotten way better! I struggled with it so much in late 2020 and everything felt awkward and stilted. I still struggle with it at times, but I've been able to make it sound more natural than when I started!

Using an outline: I thought I was a pantser, but I never managed to finish any longer prose works I started in the past. I started actually outlining my ideas and writing in plot details, which seemed to be the secret for solving my never-finishes-any-writing self.

Your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year:

Figure out how to make transitions less awkward/use fewer time skips. If I'm using timeskips, make them feel suitable for the tempo of the work.

Manage time a little better - plan out which events/fics I'm gonna release rather than jumping on anything that looks good! And also finishing drafts in time so I don't make my betas work so hard (deep gratitude for everyone who has beta'd my stuff lol).

Your number 1 favorite line you’ve written this year!

Ok a little cheating, but I'm putting in the entire paragraph with my fave line (aka two lines lol) highlighted. This is from chapter 14 of Collateral Circulation and is from Yu Ziyuan's letter to Wei Ying. I love Yu Ziyuan as a character; I find her so emotionally complex and compelling. She may not be someone I like, but I think she serves to highlight how multifaceted one person can be.

Yanli loves you dearly. Jiang Cheng does too. Both of my children, whom I fought for tooth and nail, love you as if you were the centre of our family. Unlike Jiang Cheng, Yanli is soft and loving, more than I could ever be. She’s been the perfect mother despite her youth. I see so little of myself in her that I wonder if she’s really mine, and then I see her stubborn love and I know that she is exactly like her mother. If I could excise the love from my heart, I would. She nurtures it instead.

And that's a wrap. Thanks for reading if you've read it this far! =D

[lilbreck]

Title: Chapter 3: And I'm Not Afraid to Die Characters: Caroline Forbes, Elijah Mikaelson, Elizabeth Forbes, Finn Mikaelson, Jeremy Gilbert, Klaus Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson, Maddox, Matt Donovan, Mindy, Rebekah Mikaelson Rating/Warning: FRT Word Count: 5,807 A/N: Though I list a lot of characters, and some of them actually do get dialog, some of them just pass through.

Read Elsewhere: Personal Archive \ LiveJournal \ InsaneJournal \ Dreamwidth \ AO3 \ FF.net

Rebekah had been trying to make the best of things. She had learned to deal with the slight burn in everything she ate that wasn't prepared in her home thanks to the vervain in the town's water supply. She had learned to deal with servants and shopkeepers who couldn't be compelled to do her will when she was short on patience. She had even learned to deal with her brothers neglecting to help her adapt to this new age –she refused to go begging to the most recent doppelgänger and her misfit band for help. Klaus was back, however, with the new baby vampire in tow and she was through just dealing.

Before her brother had left on his ridiculous quest for hybrids she had told Caroline she would come up with the appropriate price for the location of her dear Alexander's grave. These past ten weeks had clarified for her exactly what that price should be. Now if only the damn brat would wake up. Quickly snatching up a stuffed bear, Rebekah threw it at the sleeping girl and then stood impatiently at the foot of her bed. The slowness with which Caroline woke up only served to frustrate her even more. The insolent expression she shot her as she propped herself up on her elbows didn't help either.

"Last time I checked, I didn't have an open-door policy where the Mikaelsons were concerned."

The small huff the girl gave at whatever joke she made that Rebekah didn't get was the breaking point. Ripping the covers away to make sure she had Caroline's attention, she got straight to the point.

"In return for me taking you to retrieve the sword, you are going to be my best friend, guide, and teacher all rolled into one. You are going to make sure I know every little thing about living the type of life you lead. I'm beyond through with people in this town staring at me as if I'm a strange new creature."

Caroline groaned, collapsed back onto her bed, and took a breath to answer. The voice that followed was neither hers, nor did it come from the bed.

"Rule one of being a modern teenager, you generally wait until you're actually good friends with someone before coming into their house uninvited."

Rebekah turned and saw Sheriff Forbes leaning against Caroline's doorjamb with an amused expression on her face and holding a cup of tea.

"Sorry for intruding, but I couldn't help but overhear your… girl talk. The looks you're getting might have less to do with any social missteps and more to do with the fact that I've told the Lockwood family and the rest of the town council all about our situation."

It was only because it had been drilled into her head by Elijah that she had to play extremely nice with everyone that she didn't immediately threaten to drain the sheriff dry right then. As it was her expression clearly showed she was displeased, though the reaction she got from Caroline's mother was simply a raised eyebrow. Caroline herself wasn't paying attention to her as she came into a full sitting position and focused on her mother.

"I get why the Lockwoods wouldn't be coming after us since they're part of the supernatural world now, but why haven't the rest of the council come after the vampires in town?"

The smirk the sheriff wore was very smug when she answered, "I took a page from your book and cut off the vervain in the water supply. Then I had Elijah and Finn compel them to be… understanding and cooperative when I told them."

At this Rebekah gave a huff and whined, "If you people would have told me this, I could have been enjoying the food and drink more in this town."

She didn't appreciate the amused look on the sheriff's face or the laugh when she said, "As soon as we were done compelling them, we went back to putting vervain in the water supply. You'll just have to keep eating the food your family's personal chef cooks you. I'm sure you'll manage somehow."

Rebekah could feel outrage building up, but before she could properly put the woman in her place, she had turned and was talking to Caroline.

"She does have a good idea, though. You should show her how to blend in. The council is less likely to get antsy if she acts just like any other teenager would."

Caroline took a breath –probably to whine and complain about it, the child—but her mother quickly stopped her.

"I expect you to be on your best behavior. We don't need to cause extra problems because we can't get along like adults." She then turned her look on Rebekah and continued, "That goes for the both of you. You'll have to act like the young, capable ladies I know you can be."

Without waiting for any further argument, she turned and left the room. Despite wanting to object on principle –who was a human a thousand years younger than her to give her orders— she decided to cooperate since it got her what she wanted. Turning to Caroline, she gave the other girl a bright smile. In return she got an eye roll and an overly-dramatic huff.

"Fine. You wanna learn to be me, then you're gonna get the full package. Be here tomorrow morning at five thirty dressed in workout clothes. We're going to be running at human speed. I'll let you know the rest on our run."

The next morning, and for the rest of that week, she went running with Caroline as the younger girl got her up to speed on the ins and outs of what it now meant to be a teenage girl. After their runs, Caroline would then go over cheer routines with her. When Rebekah objected, Caroline told her it was all or nothing. She would have pushed it, but the sheriff –Elizabeth— came out and asked how everything was going. It wasn't that she was afraid of the woman's judgement per se, but she didn't want her thinking that she was somehow more childish than Caroline.

Caroline, for her part, wasn't as put out by the whole situation as she may have let on. Yes, Rebekah could be more than a bit standoffish and immature. But Caroline kind of got where she was coming from. Beneath the mean girl attitude, she recognized the insecurity and loneliness. It was hard not to when she had lived and, to an extent, was still living it. She was aware, however, that her new frenemy wouldn't except any kind of friendship straight off the bat. It just wasn't something she was used to or thought she could trust.

Still, there was only so much she could take before she was ready to snap for real. She could feel herself nearing that point Thursday, so she told Rebekah that they were taking Friday off. She had thought that would leave her free of the original vampire for a day. She gave up on that when, while she was sitting at the Grill with her mother for dinner, Rebekah sat down and joined them as if she had been invited. Her mom was no help since she just smiled and treated her like she was another one of Caroline's friends.

Her mother gave a not-so-subtle nudge to her foot when she started to rudely ask why Rebekah was here and not with her own family. After that, she couldn't really do anything aside from play nice and hope the dinner ended soon. While she was trying to not react to how chummy her mother and their uninvited guest were being, she happened to catch sight of Jeremy chasing down Matt Donovan in an almost subtle way. As they disappeared through the doors to the kitchen she didn't hesitate to focus on listening to their conversation.

"Listen, man, I get you not wanting to talk. But honestly, I'm the best person for you to spend today of all days with."

There was a pause here, as if Matt had given some sort of nonverbal response before Jeremy continued, "You were in love in love with my sister, I was in love with yours."

She heard a small scuffle and then Matt's angry voice, "Don't you even…"

Jeremy quickly interrupted with the kind of tone you'd use on a scared animal. "I've lost people to, Matt. I know what it's like to feel like nobody gets it or wants to hear about your pain. Like they just want you to forget and move on. But this being alone thing you're trying? It's not good for you. Now, we don't have to talk about her, or even talk. Just, I think we should be with people who get why today kinda sucks."

She could hear the tears in his voice by the time he finished, but Matt didn't seem ready to give in just yet.

"I'm finding it hard to believe you need someone today. It's obvious that you've already moved on."

There was a short bark of laughter from Jeremy at that.

"Yeah, I've got Bonnie, and I am… so happy with her. But that doesn't change that I love Vicki and I miss her. Just… why don't you come with me when your shift's done. We'll go out by the lake, have a few drinks, and just… I don't know, miss her together."

Caroline had just heard Matt agree with her mother lightly covered her hand and, when she looked, had a concerned look on her face. She took a deep breath and then a drink of the ice tea she had ordered.

"Today's Vicki's birthday."

While that answer was enough for her mother, Rebekah wore an expecting expression on her face. Caroline didn't even have it in her to be upset at the other girl's presence anymore.

"Vicki was Matt's sister and Jeremy was… involved with her. She died almost a year ago, so…"

She finished the sentence with a vague gesture to the kitchen where the boys had been talking, hoping that would suffice. Rebekah let it go, and the rest of the dinner passed in peace. Before she left them however, Caroline offered something of a white flag.

"No training tomorrow. But, if you're wanting to hang out or whatever, just don't come by before lunch. I plan to sleep in."

She turned and left with her mother in tow before any answer could come. However, her plans for sleeping in fell through when there was a knock on the door at seven in the morning. Her grumpiness at being woke up isn't improved by the sight of Maddox's smiling face on the other side of her front door. She didn't even bother to greet him as he stood on her front porch, just glared at him and hoped it would make him leave. She had no such luck. He simply held up the messenger bag he was carrying with a small chuckle.

"Klaus sent me. He wants your house warded against werewolves."

Caroline didn't budge an inch when she replied, "Mason turned tail and ran just after the ceremony. I mean, I don't blame him, but that means there are no triggered werewolves in Mystic Falls. The hybrids have shown no signs of coming after me, either. So, why does Klaus think I need my house warded?"

Maddox casually pushed past her and into the house. She could have stopped him but, in all honesty, she just really wanted to know what was going on in Klaus' head.

"Klaus is leaving to meet with another group of wolves tomorrow, but he says he has a feeling they'll start coming directly here soon enough."

Walking into the living room, he set down his bag and began to unpack it. As he spread out its contents, he continued to make conversation.

"Speaking of wolves, some of the hybrids are talking among themselves, wondering if he's going to approach the cursed pack in New Orleans."

Caroline couldn't help her curiosity, but tried to play it off by heading to the kitchen as she asked him what kind of curse.

"It's not real clear. Not a lot of information comes out of that area, or at least it hasn't for a long time."

When she walked back in with two cups of tea –when exactly did her mom start stocking tea and stop stocking coffee? — Maddox had set up what looked to be a small alter on the coffee table. She sat down on the couch as he arranged the candles, poured out different powders, and rearranged various items.

"I tried to get some information from some witches I know down there, but I can't even get hold of them."

"Well, mate, that's because you don't know the right witches."

Caroline could swear she felt her heart jump into her throat. Looking over at where Kol was now grinning as he lounged against the pillar in her living room doorway, he was well aware of it.

"What are you doing here?"

Though her words could have been taken as rude, she couldn't help the fondness that slipped into her tone. She hadn't realized how much she had missed him. Sliding onto the couch beside her, he threw his arm around her shoulder and gave her a teasing bop on the nose with his finger.

"I gave you and my dear sister as much quality time together as I could stand but I just missed you too much, darling! I couldn't resist seeing you before I left with Klaus on another one of his hybrid making jaunts."

Caroline did what she could to keep herself from grinning but Kol's wink let her know she failed.

"I missed you too. Now, what's this about Maddox not knowing the right witches? Do you?"

When he looked like he was going to play around and pretend he didn't know what she was talking about, she reached out and gave him a back-handed slap on his stomach. Ignoring the warnings in the back of her head that she was playing around with a very dangerous creature, she demanded, "Tell me everything you know, Mikaelson."

At that, Kol's eyebrows raised and Caroline was left to wonder for a second what she had said that was so interesting.

"News must travel fast. We just recently decided to go with Mikaelson."

Caroline was almost ready to reply with a joke about time travel but a quick flick of Kol's eyes to the other occupant of the room had her settling on a quick batting of her eyelashes and a faux-mysterious reply of, "I have my ways."

With nothing more than a hum of acknowledgement, Kol steered back to the original conversation.

"I know a couple of witches who know some witches. You know how it goes. There was a ritual last night that wasn't completed. Apparently, it was stopped by some vampires who killed just about everyone involved. The witches down there are scrambling, trying to figure out what to do. All very messy."

He then leaned in and whispered in a conspiratorial voice, "They're heavy into ancestral magic down there. It was probably a death ritual that they don't really want to talk about."

He leaned back once again and continued in his normal voice, "It's nothing that should affect us, though we might want to check in occasionally. Just in case."

No more was said about the supernatural goings on down in New Orleans as Maddox proceeded with the spell to ward her home. There was, however, enough flirting and banter to go around in its place. Afterward, Caroline would find herself a bit bewildered that the almost vicious nature of Kol and Maddox's flirting didn't disturb her.

Three nights later she had managed to completely put it from her mind. It didn't hurt that she was in the middle of a very rowdy party. The hybrids were celebrating what was for some their first full moon without the need to change. While most ignored her in favor of the alcohol and dancing, some of them kept a suspicious eye on her. Theoretically, they should all be stronger than her, but old fears and mistrust die hard.

The exception seemed to be Mindy. The young woman latched onto her almost as soon as she entered the sprawling mansion the hybrids now called home. It had taken a good hour before Caroline could look at Mindy and not remember goading her into forcing herself to shift. While the experience still felt like torture in Caroline's mind, the hybrid seemed to be having no such problems.

After more than a few drinks, Caroline stopped feeling the stares of the hybrids who were still wary of a vampire in their home. A few more drinks after that and she was laughing along with everyone else as they started a game that seemed to involve nothing more than partially shifting and randomly nipping at each other. Feeling the very pressing need to use the bathroom, Caroline reached for Mindy's shoulder to get her attention and let her know where she was going.

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in her forearm. The pain didn't fit in the moment and so it left Caroline feeling confused. It was only as everyone around her went still and quiet that she realized what had happened.

Everything else around Caroline muted and blurred as she focused on where Mindy's hybrid teeth were imbedded in her arm. She barely noticed as the girl pulled back and could only stare at the relatively small bite wound now decorating her arm. It looked so tiny, really. Like it shouldn't be lethal at all.

It took a moment for the sound of Mindy's panicked voice to catch her attention. However, it wasn't until she heard someone say they needed to call Klaus that she snapped back to full awareness.

"No."

Her voice was firm and grabbed everyone's attention. Looking wildly around, she began forming a plan in her head.

"Is there anyone here besides hybrids?"

When she got a lot of answers to the negative, she settled on her plan.

"Nobody knows who bit me."

When Mindy started shaking her head in confusion, Caroline reached forward and grabbed her face, forcing the girl to look her in the eyes.

"If they know who bit me, one of them might lash out. It was an accident, and I don't want anyone to get hurt or worse because of it."

"You'll die."

Brady's voice was clear and calm beside her. In the panic of the crowd she hadn't noticed he was so close.

"I'll die either way, what good would Mindy suffering do?"

Brady kept eye contact with her, though his expression was unreadable.

"Klaus will be able to smell her in the bite."

Running a hand through her hair, Caroline quickly thought. Hitting on the answer, she turned fully toward Brady as she spoke.

"I'll go see Bonnie. There's probably some sort of spell that can mask the scent. Make sure all the hybrids know how important it is. If anyone asks, no one knows who bit me. You're not even sure when I got bit."

Without waiting for his answer since she was sure he would do this to protect his pack, she quickly made her way to the door. She hadn't even realized she was being followed until someone gently grabbed her arm. Turning, she found a hybrid she didn't recognize. He must have read something on her face, because he pulled away slightly.

"I'm Tony. I'm going to go with you, make sure you get there safe."

The 'and without killing anyone' was heavily implied. Knowing it was for the best, she couldn't stop herself from warning him. "When we get there, you need to get lost. If anyone sees you around me like this they might assume the worst."

He nodded his agreement and they made their way to her car. She couldn't even find it in her to object when he took the keys. She simply pulled out her cell phone and made a call to Bonnie letting her know she was on her way and why. The entire drive she questioned what exactly she was doing. Not hiding who bit her, that was a given. She questioned what she planned to do after the spell was done. Her hand tightened slightly on the phone. She should call Klaus. It was the only way she could live. If it had been her Klaus, she would have without hesitation. But this Klaus…?

She put the thought from her mind as they pulled up in front of Bonnie's house. Even as she walked up to the front door, she could feel herself getting just a bit weaker. Judging by Tony's hand at her elbow, she wasn't doing a good job of hiding it. Before she knocked on the door, she quickly thanked him and then told him to go. She assumed he listened since he was no longer beside her when her friend answered.

After that, it all became a blur. She was aware of Bonnie's voice and seemingly much later a warm feeling over her now painful and infected looking wound. Shortly after that, she could hear Tony's voice at the door. Seeing that her friend wasn't near, she went to talk to him. Stepping outside and closing the door, she leaned against it and fought to keep her eyes open. Maybe the alcohol had somehow made the venom travel faster or maybe she had just lost track of time.

"You're supposed to be gone. I can't promise they won't think you bit me if you're here."

Looking determined, Tony ignored what she said.

"Are you going to call Klaus so he can help you?"

Maybe she was hallucinating and it wasn't Tony asking. Maybe she was really asking herself. Whatever.

"No. I'm just going to go find someplace safe and take care of… No. I'm not going to call him."

She could hear Tony give a resigned sigh as if he had expected it. "I'm sorry, Caroline."

Before she could ask him what he was sorry for, she felt a sharp pain in her neck and everything went black.

Minutes later Finn's reading was disturbed by the sound of the front door banging open. As he entered the foyer, he could hear Elijah questioning one of Klaus' hybrids. Rounding the bottom of the stairs, he saw that the hybrid in question was holding an unconscious Caroline.

"Klaus told me to bring her here. She's got a hybrid bite."

Almost immediately Elijah was in the hybrid's face, nearly causing him to drop Caroline's body.

"Which one of you ungrateful beasts attacked her?"

Finn had to give the boy credit; he barely flinched with an angry, original vampire in his face. His voice even stayed calm when he answered.

"We're sure it was an accident, though we don't know who bit her."

When Elijah looked ready to tear into the young man, Finn stepped forward and gripped his shoulder.

"Calm yourself, Elijah. Right now, we need to worry about Caroline."

Pulling his brother back, Finn moved forward and lifted the baby vampire into his arms and then addressed the hybrid.

"Did Klaus have any more orders for you?"

When the hybrid –Tony, he supplied when Elijah called him a mutt and said his orders weren't important— said he was told to take her to Klaus' room and make sure she stayed, Finn thanked him and headed toward his brother's room.

As he lowered her to the bed, she began to stir. He heard Elijah walk through the door followed shortly by his sister. More specifically, the sound of his sister's voice coming up the stairs.

"What the bloody hell is going on in this house? I thought those hybrids understood that they were to stay out of here?"

He knew from her startled gasp the moment she stepped into the doorway and saw Caroline lying on the bed.

"What happened to her?"

Finn didn't even bother trying to answer as he knew Elijah would jump in with his idea on what happened.

"One of those foul things Klaus created bit Miss Forbes."

Finn was convinced it wasn't concern for Caroline that had Elijah worked up. That was confirmed for him when the next words from his mouth were about her mother.

"I'll go inform Elizabeth. She'll want to be here."

At this Caroline finally managed to speak, though her voice was weak and every word sounded like a struggle.

"No. She doesn't need… she can't see this."

For all the effect her words had on Elijah, she may as well have not tried to speak at all. Before he could leave the room, Rebekah grabbed onto his arm, his name coming from her with a mix of confusion and censure. The look he turned on her was full of the arrogance and contempt that Finn detested in him.

"She's dying, Rebekah. Soon her wishes won't matter."

In shock, Rebekah let go of him and watched as he quickly left. Finn turned his attention back to the dying girl struggling to chase down his brother. Gently pushing her down, he tried to sooth her.

"You must conserve your strength. Klaus is on his way, I'm assuming with a cure. Until then you must rest."

She had no choice but to comply as what little strength she had deserted her. Turning to his sister, he quietly told her to go downstairs and do her best to delay Caroline's mother when she arrived.

Although he could do nothing for the poor young woman Finn still found himself sitting at the bedside and listening to her struggle to breathe. He wasn't sure how long he sat there watching her. He could tell that she was still conscious, though she appeared to be taking his advice and resting. To be honest, he was a bit surprised Elijah hadn't already arrived with Elizabeth in tow. He knew it was too much to hope that his brother had seen reason, but perhaps he was having a small amount of difficulty locating Caroline's mother.

He was pulled from his musings by a movement from the bed. Caroline had turned her head, opened her eyes, and was softly smiling at him.

"But if ever I meet with a Boojum that day, in a moment, of this I am sure, I shall softly and suddenly vanish away, and the notion I cannot endure!"

Perhaps it was her labored and unsteady breathing causing her words not to make sense – or perhaps it was another example of him not understanding something because he had spent nine hundred years daggered and in a coffin. More than likely it was neither of those and instead it was the hybrid venom making her delirious, making her words nothing more than nonsense. The last seemed like too great a tragedy and so Finn deliberately ignore the possibility that it was the case.

Rising from his chair and moving to kneel by the side of the bed, he gently grasped her hand and whispered, "I'm afraid I didn't understand, my dear. Perhaps you can explain?"

Caroline softly laughed and weakly squeezed his hand.

"It's a quote from a nonsense poem. I just mean that I don't want to vanish. At least not with so much left that only I know."

At this, she appeared to be trying to move, but the poison in her blood left her to weak. She quickly gave up and settled for squeezing his hand again.

"I know you can get inside my head, kind of like dropping in on my dreams. I need someone who's still alive to know…"

She paused, closing her eyes and swallowing with obvious difficulty. When her eyes opened, instead of continuing what she had been saying, Caroline simply stared at him imploringly. It didn't matter what it was she felt so strongly had to survive her –it could be her ultimate reason behind her every interaction with his family or it could be that she had stolen a ribbon from one of her friends and had never been caught—he couldn't find it in himself to refuse her such a simple request. There was also the small idea in the back of his mind that, perhaps, her asking this meant that the end was near enough that her mother would be spared her final death throws.

He slipped easily into her mind, perhaps due in part to her being open to his presence. It was night and he was in an open field. His attention was drawn to images flickering on a large free standing screen, though he had seen no possible source for the projection. It looked like the drive-in theater Sage had taken him to recently, though recognized some of the people on the film; some were even members of his monstrous family.

"It's my memories."

Finn turned around and found Caroline sitting on the hood of a car where neither she nor it had been before. She was looking healthy and content and so he didn't deny her when she invited him to sit next to her. He was about to ask her if there was anything he could do to make things easier when she hushed him and pointed at the screen.

"This is something you really should see. It's why I asked you to come here."

On the screen, he could see Caroline's witch friend, Bonnie, lying on the floor of what looked to be a basement. He knew, the way you always do in dreams, that she was dead. The witch's boyfriend –Jeremy if he remembered correctly—was gesturing for Caroline to enter the circle. The words seemed muffled, possibly not even an actual language. However, dream logic came to the rescue again, and he understood exactly what was going on.

As the scene changed and the Caroline and Bonnie on the screen were talking, the Caroline beside him let out a huff. When he glanced over at her, she had a sad smile on her face.

"We're watching a dream while in a dream. Freaky."

He turned back just in time to feel a shock go through him. Time travel. They were talking about sending Caroline back in time. He had just begun to accept that it was something that might have happened when he was faced with another shock; His youngest brother was suddenly on screen. As the conversation continued –still understood without actually being heard—he was left in a bit of confusion.

"What secret is he telling you?"

Caroline turned to him with a half-hearted grin and held her forefinger up to her lips. "Shh. Not my secret to tell."

He decided to simply let it go and turned back to see what else she needed for him to know. He felt anger on her behalf as he watched her wake up at night on someone's lawn like a discarded rag. He knew all that had gone on before and led to that night as if he had lived it. He didn't realize that his fangs had dropped and he had bared his teeth until he felt Caroline's hand on his face.

"I'm sorry, you shouldn't have gotten all that. It's not why you're here."

He wanted to argue with her, but knew it was futile. She was dying –Klaus most likely wouldn't get there in time even if he knew of a cure—and she deserved to have her last wishes respected.

"Do you need me to continue your mission? Is that why we're here?"

At this the tears that had been gathering in Caroline's eyes spilled over. Shaking her head, she gave a shaky laugh.

"I've gotten that all taken care of. Kol, my mom, Bonnie and Sheila… they're all helping. What I need from you… I should be asking of anyone else besides you. It's cruel what I want, but here and now I'm too selfish to spare you."

She turned back to face the screen and so he followed suit. What he saw there confused him once again. Klaus was there in formal clothing, his face open and engaging, speaking of his history with their father to Caroline, also in formal clothing. A quick change of scene, obviously, the same night, and she was delivering hard truths and throwing his gift back in Klaus' face. Another switch, later the same night in Caroline's room, and a beautiful sketch with an inscription thanking her for her honesty. The scenes began to go by even quicker, but Finn saw exactly what Caroline was trying to show him.

Somewhere buried inside the monster that had trapped him in a box for centuries –the same monster that had slaughtered his way across the world while on the run from their father— was the young boy who loved them all dearly. Buried in the scenes, he found another truth; When their mother had betrayed Klaus by cursing him he had, in a fit of rage and hurt, killed her. It was never their father, monster that he had been.

Finn could feel the tears streaming down his cheeks and heard Caroline's sobbing beside him. He felt almost numb as he muttered, "I don't know what to do with this."

He could feel the shift in the air as Caroline's hand hovered, almost touching his shoulder as she continued to cry.

"I'm sorry it was you. I know I should have been stronger. I shouldn't be putting you through this."

A confused as the situation had left him, Finn remember that this poor girl was dying. She shouldn't have to be strong. He quickly pushed down everything he had learned, turning toward her and wrapped her in his arms. Before he could comfort her, however, he felt himself being ripped out of her dream.

His head felt fuzzy and it took a few moments before he could get his bearings. When he focused on the scene in front of him, it only added to the turmoil Caroline's dream world had left him with. Caroline was feeding weakly from Klaus' wrist as her mother and his siblings watched on. The Klaus he saw, though, wasn't the same hybrid that he had been seeing since he was released from his coffin. It was the Klaus from her memories, the same soft look of longing mixed in with the obvious worry.

Rather than ease any of the deep anger that had been running through him for the past few months, it instead made it burn hotter. How dare his brother retain any glimmer of the boy he had been after he had stolen so much from his siblings, from Finn? A dark part of him longed to lunge forward and attempt to rip the rotten and faithless heart from his brother. However, his eyes falling on Caroline's weak form, he remembered that there were more important things than his revenge.

He once again banked his rage and hoped he could keep it buried long enough for Caroline's plans to succeed.

[no-droids]

Ask Me Again Tomorrow

gif credit @pedros-pascal​

Part Sixteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.3K

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

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

***

Headstart—12:17pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Headstart—6:12pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Headstart—6:58pm:

A bus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Headstart—9:34pm

The forest here is different from Naboo, too.

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

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

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

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

You’ve… never climbed a tree before.

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

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

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

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

***

Headstart—11:37pm:

Water.

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

And it was fun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 1–12:00am:

“Sweet girl.”

—You nearly fucking fall.

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules.”

Well.  Fair.

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

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

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

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

“What are you talking abou—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that sound?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 1–6:15am:

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

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

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

***

Day 1–7:06am:

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

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

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

“You were supposed to stay on foot.”

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 1–1:32pm:

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

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

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

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

***

Day 1–9:51pm:

Oh.  Oh stars, you’re tired.

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 2–12:00am:

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

“Wake up.”

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

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

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

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

No—

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure you did.  You in another tree?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t need to ask.

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

***

Day 2–5:34am:

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

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

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

Din is asleep?  Seriously?

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 2–8:28am:

Din’s groan suddenly comes through your ear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Op.  Not good.  “Wha?”

He’s not falling for it.  “How long?”

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

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

“Fair wasn’t part of—”

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

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

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

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

And then the communicator clicks, and you’re…

Uh.  What the fuck was that?

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

***

Day 2–12:35pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 2–5:43pm:

You have an idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 2–11:54pm:

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

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

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

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

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

Day 3–12:00am:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me your coordinates—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep tonight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 3—2:23am:

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

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

***

To be continued!!

[highqueenofelfhame]

Follow my writing blog @highqueenofelfhamewrites! Turn on post notifs there for more reliable updates, i don’t do a tag list anymore! Sorry folks. Master list is on my pinned post (use the google doc version if the other doesn’t work.)

Part one

Rowan could tell when Aelin was screening his calls. He could tell when she was busy with work around her family’s multi-million dollar company because it would ring through to her voicemail— words he could recite like a script by now.

Hi! You’ve missed me, which is horribly sad for you, but if you leave a message maybe you’ll be lucky enough for a call back.

Rowan never was.

He could tell when she saw it was him calling and chose to reject the call, sending him to the void of her mailbox. Every call went unreturned, every text he was quite sure was deleted as soon as it appeared on her screen. There had even been a handful of times that he’d knocked on her apartment door, each thud of his fist echoing into the sound of the television beyond. Once, he thought maybe she was going to answer, the door knob jingling like she’d wrapped her fingers around it and prepared to pull. Yet her soft footsteps had retreated. There was no getting through the golden girl who had poured fire and sunlight into his life after spending so much time sulking in shadow.

The worst part of all of it was that she couldn’t have been more wrong about their relationship, his feelings for her, about every bit of it. She had sent him away before he could protest and though he knew he’d had a moment to try, Rowan was also sure more than anything she wouldn’t have believed a single word out of his mouth. Instead of lazing in bed with Aelin the last few weeks, he had managed to endure the radio silence with nothing but a brooding attitude and shattered heart while he trudged through his days.

So when he spotted her coming out of her favorite coffee shop early in the morning, blissfully sipping the iced caramel macchiato that she had every day, Rowan had bolted across four lanes of traffic without a second thought of what he was doing. Car horns blared and brakes screeched as he ran, one car coming so close to hitting him that his hands slammed onto the hood of the car while he mouthed an apology he didn’t mean. He would have gladly let that car hit him if it’d gotten her attention. It said plenty about his desperation that he was willing to lose life and limb just to have her simply look at him.

“Aelin!” he shouted once, twice, four times while he jogged down the sidewalk. Bewildered eyes tracked the seemingly crazed man while he chased the woman down. A police officer had even taken notice, following at a brisk pace that Rowan was oblivious to. He was close enough to hear the click of her heels down the cement while she dutifully ignored every syllable of her name that exploded from his lips.

“Aelin!” he shouted one more time. Heads turned their way the same time his hand wrapped around her bicep and jolted her to a stop.

In her surprise, the grip on her cup tightened and the lid popped off, sloshing a chilly espresso drink down her bare legs and into her shoes. Rowan was sure he would have to grovel for ruining the patent black heels, but it would be worth it if she would just listen to him.

“Rowan,” she said, shock lacing her tone as she pulled an earbud free and looked down at her stained skirt and soaked toes. A frown had tugged her lips into a frown as the officer caught up with them, hand going to Rowan’s chest like he intended to put space between them.

“Is everything okay, miss?”

“I— what? Yes. Of course. Thank you.” Her voice was vacant but dismissive while she waved her hand nonchalantly, eyes not leaving the ground. The officer looked skeptical but finally distanced himself by trailing a few feet away. As annoying as it was, there was a surge of comfort knowing if he had been some creep, someone would have stepped in for her sake.

“You can’t drop some bomb like that and then ghost me.” Sure, there were more delicate ways to put it but Rowan was beyond that. With her eyes still averted to her feet, frustration was boiling under his skin. What the hell was it going to take to get her to look at him? Just as he was willing to kneel at her feet to catch her eyes, she looked up at him with that frown pulling even tighter.

“There’s coffee in my shoes.”

“I’ll buy you some new godsdamn shoes if you’ll look at me for five minutes and let me talk.”

“And then you’ll leave me alone?”

“If that’s still what you want when I’m finished, yes. I’ll buy your shoes and leave you alone.”

Aelin’s mouth twisted to the side while she thought. Despite the offer, Rowan could see the hesitation in her eyes, that golden core of her iris flickering like a flame.

“Fine,” she said, finally. Her arms crossed over her chest, freshly painted black nails digging into the white button down shirt she wore. “You have five minutes or less. I have to get to work.”

The tone of her voice was strong and tense, but the anxious bouncing of her foot and the way she was wiggling her fingers along her biceps to a melody only she could hear. It was a habit, he noticed, that when she got anxious she would drum her fingers along to the Stygian Suite to keep her emotions at bay. He wished she wouldn’t.

“You are… I’m so mad at you, Aelin.”

“You’re making really good use of your five minutes, I—“

“Would you let me speak?” Aelin’s mouth snipped shut, jaw popping from the tense lock.

“I’m so mad at you. For about a hundred different reasons but mostly thinking you could tell me you were in love with me and then not letting me have a single word in. For telling me you love me and making me leave in a way that I knew if I stayed to fight it would only make it worse. And then as if that wasn’t enough, you stopped talking to me. Stopped taking my calls. Stopped answering the door. Told Aedion to stop giving me updates about you because I didn’t deserve to know. Which is so much bullshit, by the way.”

“Do you have to yell at me like this in public?” Her voice was soft, eyes downcast at her coffee sodden shoes. Rowan glanced around for the first time, taking in the small crowd that had stopped their busy morning to see what the commotion was about. It was then, with her bottom lip quivering and an audience around them, that he pulled her hands from where they pressed into her arms. Rowan guided them around his waist even though she resisted, then took her face in his hands with heartbreaking gentleness that made one of her tears finally slip free.

“I’m sorry that I yelled,” he said quietly, bending down to kiss another fallen tear. “But, baby, I have been in love with you since I met you. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”

“You love me?”

“If you had just told me like a normal person—“

“Chasing me down the street in downtown Orynth and shouting at me is like a normal person?”

“Desperate times. I almost got hit by a car. You missed the good parts when you had your headphones in.” Instead of laughing like he hoped, Aelin reared back and immediately began to inspect him.

“Hit by a car!? Rowan Matthias!”

“I’m fine.” Aelin huffed, pulling away from him and folding her arms back over her chest. Rowan’s hands slowly fell back to his sides, desperate to hide in his pockets from what felt like a rejection. A stern look that he’d seen several times on her father’s face took over her features, setting them in stone while she tapped a sloshy toe.

“Be that as it may, you got something in your story wrong.”

“Have I, now?”

“You have. See, I never told you that I was in love with you. You jumped to that conclusion all on your own, and—“

Rowan couldn’t help it, he started laughing as the corners of her mouth began to twitch. He took her face back in his hands and leaned down to kiss her, something slow and sweet and full of promises he couldn’t keep in the middle of a busy street.

“Don’t make me drag you home and coax a confession out of you,” he mumbled into her mouth, sweeping his tongue in lazy strokes that he knew she liked on other parts of her body.

Aelin’s lips spread into a full grin as her arms settled around his neck, the remainder of her coffee dribbling down his back and seeping through to his skin. He couldn’t find a single reason to care as she whispered, “I was kind of counting on it.”

[masterjedilenawrites]

My guy, can I just say that I LOVE your writing? Its absolutely amazing and wholesome! speaking of wholesome, could I maybe request the clones with an s/o who wants a child? Or maybe the clones as fathers?

Wow thank you, I'm flailing on the floor from these compliments! Glad to provide some wholesome content for the fandom in these trying times... #bringcrosshairhome

I just did a Clones with pregnant S/O request, so here's Clones as fathers...

Cody is a dutiful father. He takes the job seriously right from the start, seamlessly readjusting his life to include his child as if they'd always been there. He'll take any opportunity to teach his child all the important things, from hands-on tasks like fixing a speeder or shooting a blaster, to more abstract concepts like being polite to strangers and apologizing when in the wrong. When he has to choose work over home, he makes up for it with extra attention when he returns.

Rex is a super-dad. His kids look up to him their entire lives, believing he really is a superhero. Think Jack Pearson from This is Us. He'll dress up for tea parties, and listen to the same stories over and over, and chauffeur them and their friends around town, and help with homework, and lend them money for when they go on their first date.... He's tired all the time, but he never lets it show. He and his S/O are partners in this endeavor; their teamwork is admirable and enviable.

Wolffe is a private dad. He keeps his family life separate, that way he can be the tough leader he needs to be in battle, and then let all of that go when he returns home. He's a secret softie and only his S/O and child ever see that side of him. They have him wrapped around their finger; he knows this, and loves it. There isn't a single thing he wouldn't do for either of them. They are his world. He gets sentimental about a lot of things and doesn't like how fast his baby grows up.

Fox is a doting father. He'd spoil the shit out of his kids. Sneaking candy when their mom says no, buying the toy they secretly eyed in the store, letting them stay up late and watch him clean his armor. He gets in trouble with his S/O a lot, but he can't help it. He wants to give his kids the entire galaxy. He can discipline them when necessary, and because he only does so sparingly, his kids take it seriously and never act that way again. He thinks they are just perfect.

Fives is a proud dad. Everything his children do is amazing. He keeps every last drawing or craft they make for him. He recounts every milestone of their lives to his brothers. He cries over them a lot. He is just in awe of how they grow up, all their strength and potential and innocence, he just eats it up. He definitely wears T-Shirts that have puns of the word dad in it, so anyone who sees him knows who he is. It's the most important part of his life, far more than being a soldier.

Echo is a nurturing father. He is very concerned with the health and happiness of his child. He's more nervous when they're young, wondering if they're behind in their development or whether their runny nose is a sign of something more serious. He's more comfortable when they get older, letting them do more on their own. He's big on communication and uses little codewords. Like, Cover-fire means he needs them to just do as they're told. DMZ means they're free to speak their mind, no judgement. Retreat means they need to rethink their bad attitude and apologize.

Jesse is a hip dad. He doesn't try to be, he just is. He never really let go of that part of himself after becoming a father, listening to certain kinds of music or having a fun night out. He doesn't set a lot of rules; in fact, he openly allows certain things that other parents might balk at. He figures it's better for them to experience these things in the safety of their home, rather than doing it behind his back and getting hurt. His kids like their cool dad, they're never embarrassed.

Kix is an affectionate father. His favorite thing in the whole galaxy is coming home to his children tackling him with hugs and kisses. He might coddle in the early years, letting them sleep in his bed or carrying them around everywhere. But as they grow, he's more encouraging of their independence, so long as they still let him hug them whenever he wants. He's also obsessed with health; totally the dad who never lets them eat any sugar or watch TV if the sun's still shining.

Tup is a timid dad. He second-guesses himself a lot, wondering if he made the right decisions or said the right things to his child. He does his best to learn and catch on to the best way to go about things, but it seems as soon as he's finally comfortable, his child has grown up or moved on to the next phase and he has to start over. He is best during the quiet moments of his child's life: reading stories before bed, giggling during bathtime, comforting a broken heart...

Dogma is a responsible father. He prioritizes rules over all else, but puts a lot of thought and care into crafting them. And he's created a lot of rules for himself, too. Things like always wishing them good-night, even when he's away on missions. Or never expressing his frustration in front of them. He creates plenty of opportunities for them to earn privileges or other rewards. He disciplines firmly but fairly. He splits the child-rearing duties with his S/O evenly, as well.

Hardcase is a dorky dad. He's not as hardcore at home as he is on the battlefield, but he still has a lot of energy and releases it through corny jokes, silly antics, and other displays of tomfoolery. Think Phil Dunphy from Modern Family. He wants to be his children's best friend. He tries to keep up with all the trends and slang, which just makes his kids cringe in embarrassment. He's not the best with discipline, but he does get more serious if one of them is hurt or struggling.

Hunter is an interactive father. He will never be considered distant, oh no. He engages with his kid on every level, being a constant and dependable presence in their life. He talks to them as a baby even when they don't understand. He lets them tag along as a toddler, indulging in their curiosity. He checks in with them when they're older, having honest conversations about whatever is on their mind.

Wrecker is a playful dad. Life is an adventure and he's excited to take his children along on the ride. He'd have a lot of kids, filling his home with sounds of laughter and fighting and joy and tears. He'd encourage them to develop a hobby and would attend every competition, performance, etc. without fail. Even with so many to keep track of, he manages to make each one feel special, they all have an important place in the family and never get left out, not on his watch.

Crosshair is a protective father. He knows he's not the best with emotions, so he makes up for it by always having his child's back. Looking out for them. Keeping them safe. He'd teach them how to fight from an early age, going to shooting ranges or on hunts. It'll be their "thing," a way for them to quietly connect through the years. And heaven help the poor soul who ever hurts his little one. He will not hold back in defending their honor and squeezing out an apology.

Tech is a chill dad. He isn't bothered by much, so he keeps his cool through even the roughest stages of his child's development. This ends up creating a sense of stability for his family, they can always count on Dad to keep things steady and real. He won't pry into his child's life; if they want help, they'll need to come to him. But once they do, he is passionate about teaching them everything he knows. He will support them in all of their studies, hobbies, and interests.

[the-witty-pen-name]

Deadbeat Pt. 6

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), fluff, angst, smut, dirty talk, semi-public sex, cursing, abandonment, toxic parent, violence, toxic siblings, infatuation, cheating/divorce, insecurity, mild housewife kink, mentions of prostitution, mentions of alcohol, corrupt official, fake relationship, jealousy 

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

Thank you all so much for reading and sharing my work. Everyone whose reached out and told me how much they love the story really makes my day, oh my gosh!! I love you all so much, I’m so thankful. 

This is unedited, and I missed anything I should include as a warning let me know! I hope you all enjoy! 

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five

Tags and Requests are OPEN

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He turns onto your street and as you get closer to your house, there’s a car out front you don’t recognize.

“You expecting somebody?” Arvin asks.

“Nope,” you say seeing a figure sitting on the front porch swing- unable to make out who it is.

Pulling up to the house the figure is a man, but you still can’t distinguish any features as Arvin continues to drive down the dirt road. You’re incredibly nervous and your mind is racing wondering who it would be. You were scared.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Arvin says, noticing as you fidget in your seat. He takes your hand to comfort you, now driving with one hand on the wheel. He parks his truck at the side of the house. It’s Henry Curtis- that damned reporter. Shit, you think to yourself, he doesn’t know that you lied to him at the bar.

“Who is that?” Arvin asks, staring daggers at the man as he flips a page in the newspaper he was reading while he waits on the front porch. You hide your face behind Arvin, leaning back so Mr. Curtis can’t see who is in the passenger seat.

“He’s this reporter that’s been trying to write a story about my mom,” you explain quickly, “He came into the bar the night before trying to talk to me but I lied and said I wasn’t me. He must have gotten the address somehow- he knows the Sheriff lives here… Maybe he’s trying to dig up something.”

“Is there something-?”

“No! Of course not,” you lie, and it makes you feel terrible. It makes you feel so guilty lying to Arvin but you weren’t ready to tell him anything. “Like everyone else in this town, he’s probably heard all the rumors and things people are saying about me and he’s gonna try to use that.”

“What should we do? It’s not like he’s seeing you with Sheriff Bodecker… you’re with me.”

“Wait- Arvin, that’s it,” you say in a hushed voiced. You peer over his shoulder to see if the reporter was getting suspicious.

“What’s it?” he asks with an eyebrow raised.

“Pretend to be my boyfriend?” You ask hurriedly. “If he thinks I’m single he’s gonna keep hounding me. But if I’m in a relationship, he’s got no reason to keep pursuing the dead-end story and maybe he’ll leave me alone.”

Arvin looks at you, and sighs heavily as he thinks about it. He knows it’s pointless because he knows he’s never going to be able to say no to you. Besides, it’s just a one-time rouse, just so this guy doesn’t bother you again. Arvin feels obligated to say yes, hoping this somehow could make his actions in the past up to you.

“Okay,” he says, forcing a small smile. “I’ll follow your lead.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you exclaim, giving him a brief hug.

He gets out of the car first, tipping his baseball cap to the man on the porch, before coming around and helping you out of the truck. He keeps his arm around your waist, and holds you close to his side as he walked. Christ, he’s missed this.

“Afternoon,” Curtis greets, putting down his newspaper, and leaving it on the swing. “Henry Curtis. I’m a reporter for the Columbus Dispatch.” He comes down the front steps, as Arvin grabs your groceries from the back of the truck. He walks over to the car and extends his hand to both of you, matching his introduction with a firm handshake. He tilts his head, looking at you, immediately recognizing you from the bar. You’re quick on your feet, and good at putting on an act. You spoke quickly before he got the chance to accuse anything.

“I remember you Mr. Curtis,” you say with a smile. You come off as a little shy. “I wasn’t very truthful to you when we first met and I’m sorry about that,” you say. “But I was scared when you came in asking for me,” you explain, “Strange man comes in, asking for me by name without introducing himself first. Would scare any gal, I hope you understand.”

Arvin holds back a laugh at how thick you are laying it on. You were putting on a Southern belle persona, and it wasn’t like you at all. He admired how quick you were on your feet. It amazed him actually how smoothly you were able to pull it off. “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you say, introducing yourself properly. “This is my boyfriend Arvin Russell.” His heart tugs a little, but he ignores it the best he can.

“I suppose I understand,” Curtis says, looking the two of you over. “I think that I came on a little too strong when I first introduced myself. I apologize. It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Good to know ya, Mr. Curtis,” Arvin nods, bringing your groceries up to your front porch as Mr. Curtis asks you more questions.

“I hate to intrude,” Curtis begins and you hold back a scoff, “But I had been told by some people you too had called it quits before the Sheriff moved in- a Ms. Perry, I think. When I was just asking around for a way to get in touch, her and another woman told me more than I was asking.”

“Oh of course, Mr. Curtis,” you chuckle. “They would have been right, but we’ve gotten back together since then. You’re in on the news before Ms. Perry it sounds like.”

“Ah, we’ll I’m happy to hear you both are happy,” he clears his throat. He wasn’t anticipating this and this new information has thrown off his hunch about the situation.

“That’s mighty kind of you,” you smile, resting your arm on Arvin’s shoulder when he returns to your side.

“How long has it been?” he asks curiously. You look up at Arvin, biting your lip playing dumb trying to remember.

“About two weeks, I think,” you finalize, “Maybe three. I mean we’d been together since we both got out of high school so it’s more like we’ve done been together for four years.”

“And you both don’t mind the living situation, not to pry in something that isn’t my business, but an unmarried woman renting out a room to a man is very peculiar,” he insinuates, and Arvin wraps his arm around your waist.

“I have no reason to not trust her,” Arvin says, coming to your defense, and you genuinely smile, even though you know it’s not true. It hurts, but you know it’s just for now. Keeping your relationship with Lee a secret was your idea after all, and you thought keeping it a secret would be easier. But now you’re here lying to one of the only people in town you care about.

“I’d be more worried about the Sheriff,” Curtis counters with a laugh. “Well, I came here to talk to Ms. (Y/L/N) about her mother.”

“I didn’t lie to you when I said I didn’t know anything,” you interject. “Honest, I don’t. I wish I knew more. I’m worried sick thinking about my brother and if he’s okay- but I haven’t heard about either of them. They haven’t reached out since they moved out.”

“I believe you,” he said sympathetically, “Sheriff Bodecker let me read the statement you gave at the station. And I’m sorry you are going through this.”

“I don’t know how’d I’d make it through without Arvin,” you say, looking up at him. He leans down and kisses your temple quickly.

“I should be going, I suppose,” he says, “I’ll be in town for a little while longer, so I hope to see you too around. Please, call me if you hear something.” The man hands you both a business card, and then goes to his car, and pulling away, not even bothering to grab the newspaper he left on the front porch.

“What a sleaze,” you shudder, moving away from Arvin’s embrace.

“He seemed nice enough,” Arvin shrugs, “But I guess that’s an act he puts on.”

“He’s trouble, Arvin,” you insist. He nods, trusting you. You both stand awkwardly for a few moments. You were wishing you could tell him and come clean. It felt horrible keeping this secret from him, he didn’t deserve to be a pawn covering up this scheme of yours without knowing. You would tell him, you decided you would, but you needed to wait for the right time.

“I really appreciate you helping me,” you say, cutting across the silence.

“Of course,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets. “I guess I should get going. I need to pick up Lenora at the cemetery.”

“Okay,” you nod, “See you later?”

“I’m always here,” he chuckles. You turn around and bring your bags inside as Arvin drives away. The whole interaction with Curtis made you incredibly uncomfortable, and you just wanted nothing more than to just see Lee.

You put the groceries away quickly, and then needed to change out these clothes. You headed up to your bedroom, and changed into a more comfortable outfit. You felt a little gross, like there was a layer of something on your skin, even though you were fine. It was like the residue of the lie you told Arvin was still crawling on your skin. You kept reminding yourself that it was only temporary.

“It’s okay to be selfish sometimes, sweetheart,” Lee said, pulling you in close later that night as you were telling him about how you felt towards lying to Arvin. He appreciated how honest you were, and he often wished he was more like you.

However, he also couldn’t help the jealousy that was bubbling up inside him. Thinking about Arvin touching you, even if you had been his first- the visual made his jaw lock. It wasn’t that it was just Arvin- any man touching you would send him into a jealous frenzy. He wasn’t worried about you. He really truly trusted you, but he didn’t for a second trust the Russell boy when it came to you.

You rested your head on his shoulder and rested your palm on his chest as he pulled the blanket up for the two of you. He laid on his back, you cuddled up close to his side. He had one arm wrapped securely around you and the other rested bent behind his head.

“I just hate keeping secrets,” you mumble and it makes him sigh. He now combatted with his own guilt. He was torn between telling you about his involvements around town, like Leroy Brown, or telling you about how he’s been covering for his sister. He wants out, and he just wants to protect you. His main concern about keeping that part of his life under wraps isn’t even about reelection anymore, it’s about keeping you safe. Brown couldn’t know about you; it would put you in danger. He just needed time to get out of the whole mess and then he’d confess everything to you, even if the fear of losing you stayed at the forefront of his mind.

“It’s not forever, sweetheart,” he whispers, rubbing circles on your back comfortingly. “We won’t have to keep ourselves locked away in this house forever,” he chuckles, “even though I love it.” His words make you blush and you swat his chest playfully. “What? I do,” he grins, “I love just being home with you. It’s like the rest of the world don’t even exist when it’s just you and me.”

“When that reporter leaves, everything will get better,” you affirm. “I thought keeping us a secret would be easier,” you admit, drawing aimless shapes over his white t-shirt.

“I can’t wait to show you off,” he mumbles, nuzzling closer to you. “Just show the whole world you’re my girl.”

“You did get pretty lucky,” you chuckle, closing your eyes.

“I know I did,” he hums in agreement, pulling you into his chest.

You got the call the next day letting you know you got the job. You quit your bartending job immediately, you’re so excited that you forget all about the stress you were battling with the previous night. You felt like you were walking on air. Things were looking up for the most part. You had secured a stable job, you were going to start making more money, you had Lee- you felt good. It was definitely a calm before the storm.

You’re worries for now floated to the back of your mind and you allowed yourself to just be happy for yourself. You got something, and it was all your own. You worked hard and you did this. You’d start this next phase of your life Monday morning and you couldn’t wait. You wanted to just speed through the weekend. Well, speed through the rest of Thursday, Friday, Saturday- enjoy your date with Lee, and then speed through Sunday.

You had butterflies. You felt silly that the idea of going on a date with Lee made you feel this way but you were really excited. It made you feel like this relationship was normal, and much more doable than you were thinking it would be. The age gap, living together, so many things made you worry constantly about other people and their opinions. Being stuck in that small town really would affect your confidence and self-esteem. You’re strong, and most of the time things that petty don’t affect you, but the consistency of it all is draining.

Now you both are sitting in the front of Lee’s car, not the cruiser- his ’55 Dodge he hardly drove. He kept his car, but because he was always working, it mostly sat in your garage. He’d offer you the keys, leaving them hanging up in the kitchen for you to take whenever you wanted, but something about the town seeing you driving his car was daunting. You knew people would talk regardless of what you did, but you didn’t like to add fuel to the flame when you could avoid it.

Sitting in the bench seat, with your eyes glued to the movie that played on the screen, you kept stealing glances at Lee. He looked nice out of uniform- much more relaxed and like he wasn’t hiding behind some front he felt he needed to live up to the badge. His leather jacket was secured around your shoulders, and you decide to slid over to him. Your actions snap him out of his thoughts and he smirks, pulling his arm around you and pulling you in close to his side.

It was a dark night, you couldn’t see in to the cars surrounding you, even though you were parked towards the back of the lot of cars anyways. The window was rolled down just enough to have the speaker clipped in place, and the breeze was a little chilly. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, giving you a quick kiss while you got comfortable and then you both turned back to the movie.

Lee couldn’t focus on the movie in front of him if he wanted to. It was just like how he felt like that night awhile back when you’d fallen asleep on the couch together. This time though, he shouldn’t be nervous. You were there and his girl. But now he felt nervous like he was a teenager again or something- and you’re there wrapped up in his arms, and the smell of your shampoo is amazing, and he’s just so wrapped up in thoughts of you, he couldn’t even tell you the name of the movie playing, or who was in it, or what it was even about. Then, you rested your hand on his leg and he thought he was going to combust.

“Lee,” you whisper in his ear and he feels a shiver run down his whole spine, “Are you paying attention?”

“Y-yeah,” he says, sitting up a little straighter and you scoff.

“What’s the movie called?” you ask with a smirk, rubbing his leg gently. He fumbles over his words trying to stall.

“I don’t know,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair nervously.

“Me neither,” you giggle, and he let’s out a long breath of relief. You lean up to whisper in his ear, your hand rubbing over the bulge in his pants. “I can’t think about anything but moving to the backseat,” you whisper. He groans as a response and then pulls you into a kiss, tangling his hand in your hair. You teasingly bit his lip, pulling away from the kiss. He pouts at the separation as you quickly kick off your shoes and then climb over the bench seat to the back, accidentally (or maybe on purpose) giving him a view of your panties that you wore under your skirt.

“You’re killing me, doll,” he moans, quickly following your lead, smacking your ass playfully. You yelp in response and laugh as he climbs over the bench seat and crawls on top of you.

He scoops you up in his arms so he can seat stretched out on the backseat and you maneuver so you’re straddling his waist, your miniskirt riding up around your waist. His tongue tangles with yours and his hands grab at the flesh of your upper thighs. Your hands move down his chest to his torso to his belt, fumbling to undo the buckle and then his fly.

“Fuck,” he moans, when he pulls away from the kiss and his hands move to rub your back under your top. You move to pulls his jacket off of you and he holds your wrists gently to stop you. “Keep it on, sugar,” he murmurs, and then dips down to kiss and bit at your neck. You moan as he kisses from your neck downward as he partially unbuttons your shirt, opening it just enough to reveal your bra.

As your hands run through his hair, he pulls back from your skin to kiss your lips frantically again. His hand travels down and pushes his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock, and he swiftly moves your panties to the side. “Please, Lee,” you whine impatiently, and he smirks, feeling your arousal.

“You’re so wet, baby girl,” he chuckles, teasing your entrance and you moan. He loves ever reaction you give him.

“You want me to ride you Sheriff?” you ask lowly batting your lashes. He rests his head back and he has a firm grip on your hips.

“Please, honey,” he says, almost in a whimper. It felt good, it felt really good seeing him under you like this. You smile, leaning down and kissing his neck as you slide yourself onto his length. You take a sharp intake of breath, adjusting as it stretches you and Lee moans. You’re thankful the windows are fogged, and the movie is still playing, but there was something thrilling about this nonetheless. No one would see you if they looked over anyways, and no one would be paying attention to your car.

“You’re so big,” you praise as you begin to move yourself up and down. Lee peppers kisses on exposed part of your breast and moves his hands down to squeeze your ass as you ride him.

“Fuck you’re so perfect, sweetheart, you feel so good,” he moans, his hands helping to move you up and down on him.

His praises just encourage you to quicken your pace and he still helps guide you. Not breaking your rhythm together, he moves one hand to pull out his wallet from his pocket while the other moves to rest on the small of your back as you continue to bounce on him.

“One second, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your lips. “Lay down on the seat for me.”

You nod and follow his instructions. You watch as he pulls a condom from his wallet, quickly unwrapping it and slipping it on. Once he secures it, he bends down connecting his lips with yours again.

“You’re stunning,” he praises, taking off your panties. He takes a minute to just take in how you look- your hair sprawled out as you rest your back on the seat, your chest rising and falling breathing heavy with anticipation, your neck covered in marks he’s left behind and your skirt pushed up around your waist, and you’re wearing his jacket. “Goddamn perfect,” he declares, kissing you one more time before guiding himself into you.

His thrusts are a little sloppy, this new position makes the limited space much more obvious, but it doesn’t matter. You both are close and pressed up against each other, and both of you know you’re close. He can feel as you tighten around him and you can feel every time, he’s hitting the spots inside you perfectly.

“Lee, I’m so close,” you moan, your arms wrapping around his neck, and he moves faster, this time the car rocks a little, making you laugh.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, sugar,” he grunts, “so perfect.”

You throw your head back as you feel your release, and at the sensation he shortly follows.

“Fuck, Lee,” you moan, feeling your orgasm rip through you.

“Fuck, I love you, sugar,” he groans, as he rides out his orgasm. He pulls out, resting his forehead on yours, panting heavily.

“You what?” You ask breathless, your eyes widening at the confession.

PART SEVEN

Taglist:

@scar-is-bi @jiminlife2k18 @asylummaniac01​ @rosalynshields​ @charmed-asylum @jamesbuchananbuckybarnes1917 @alexandrathegreat3 @hersilencedscreams @malar-region @purplerain85 @vesper852 @smilewolfdolan @softshell-taco @champagnebucky 

[junhuiste]

twice twice baby (preview)

pairing: jake x gn reader x sunghoon

word count: 2200

tags/warnings: fluff, slight angst, college!au, hockey player!jake, ice skater!sunghoon, sports med assistant!reader, slowburn, mutual pining, cursing, slightly suggestive scenes

a/n: this is just a preview of the bigger piece i plan to publish much later, so it pretty much only has jake, sorry hoonists! also gonna address it here while we’re at it, but i wanna apologize to everyone who sent requests in! i have them all plotted, most drafted and written, but i didn’t realize when i moved back home how busy i would be with work, summer classes, and looking for an apartment! i will have them published before the end of summer though! this piece is coming out before only because i wrote it well before finals week lol

taglist: please let me know if you wanna be part of the taglist!

Being in a parallelogram (or was it a dodecagon? A triangle? whatever) with the two notorious ‘Ice Hotties’ at your college, Jake Sim, the captain of the hockey team, and Park Sunghoon, the world class figure skater, is easy. Geometry isn’t that complicated...right?

As you entered into the arena, a cold blast of air struck, prompting you to jump slightly in your tracks, cursing that it was men’s hockey season and not basketball anymore. Albeit arms shivering, knees wobbling, and barely being able to make any strides at all, you weren’t distraught and to some extent trembling because of the ice rink or the ice packs inside the pouch seemingly glued to your waist, or hell, even the unnecessary air conditioner giving its all. Really, did they need to keep that fucking thing on when it was already polar-arctic-adjacent inside the arena? Probably to keep the rink from oozing into water and having Atlantis actually come to fruition...whatever, fuck the cold!

“Y/N, let’s get on it. We’re a bit late.” The head athletic trainer indicated, speed-walking a little too quickly for your liking, but what were you to do when your chest was heaving upon arrival at the ice center? Suck it up? Collapse and crawl into a ball?

Nodding, even though she was practically scurrying and leaving your curtailing ass in the dust, you heightened your pace despite the fact that your legs were about to give out at any second. Weren’t cold spaces supposed to make a solid more rigid, not turn your legs to jelly?

The both of you finally reached the area where the players were situated to greet the head and assistant hockey coaches.

“This is Y/N,” your trainer (whom insisted you just skip the formalities and call her Mina) motioned to you, slightly yet noticeably panting, “a first year, but they’ve done men’s basketball, women’s soccer and some gymnastics last semester. They know their stuff!”

“Wouldn’t doubt it.” The head coach reaches out to grip your hand firmly.

“Pleasure to meet y—“ once more today you jump, this time not shaken by the frozen tundra or by the vehemently boisterous buzzer, though it was much more thundering than the buzzer at the basketball court for some reason, but by the announcers cheering, “first year, number three, co-Captain, Jake Sim!”

And the crowd? They didn’t just go wild, no, they were literally cacophonous, the ground beneath and the arena stands rumbling, practically rivaling the San Andreas fault. Craning your neck to look around the oval shaped space and just how many students from your school, clad in university regalia, were present to see guys battle it out with plastic sticks on frozen water, even that, the entire scene wasn’t what had your heart nearly palpitating out of your chest.

First year, number three, co-Captain, Jake Sim. Now that was enough to warrant a blood pressure monitor...and possibly a defibrillator.

Almost giving yourself whiplash from turning around too quickly, it was hard not to gape at the boy coasting across the ice, waving at the all too excited crowd. And even through his helmet and from across the rink, you could make out his dark, glimmering irises, like how the sun’s edges would peak through from behind during an eclipse. It was kind of charmingly sickening actually, that someone could be as radiant as he was, under all the bulky gear, even despite the temperature. It wasn’t convenient actually that it had to be men’s hockey this time, that you, as the athletic trainer’s sports medicine intern had to attend the games for. Yeah, it was for credits. Sure, it was for intern experience...but what was the point if you only expected to make a fool out of yourself trying to tend to Jake and his teammates’ possible injuries?

It wasn’t fair, actually, that you were hopelessly in like with Jake Sim and that he didn’t even know your name when you were in the same physics class. To be fair though, it was a class of about 400, an infamous weeder course that crushed the poor souls of innocent underclassmen, so to have him direct any sort of attention your way, even a mere glimpse, would be laughable. That was what happened when you sat in the back, though.

Of course it just had to be Jake Sim that completely bewitched you, and he didn’t have to twirl any fingers or fixate any potions to have you just so damn spellbound. All he had to do was show up to freshman orientation with that stupid inviting grin of his, and that dumb glint in his eye that no one else seemed to possess. No, of course he just had to show up and be almost too cordial to everyone in your orientation group, even though all the other students, including you, could not give a single damn about the campus tour. And yes, of course, he just had to have the masses absolutely enamored with him, both upper and underclassmen alike.

Consider all of that, with Jake’s insane schedule, not that you knew anything specific, just that he had games on Tuesdays and Thursdays, coupled with daily practices, but you were only privy to that information because Mina always gave you the athletic teams’ agendas for the month. So yes, trying to garner any attention from Jake was like floating right smack in the middle of the Pacific, sending some sort of signal through a marine radio, and getting no response back. Not a hint that anyone was coming. No helicopters whirring above, no boats sent out ashore. What would he want to do with the first-aid kid, the person that sat in the back, the person that was paying attention to something else at the moment, and not the fact that they had to observe players carefully for potential injuries?

Well, sorry to Jake’s teammates and Mina, but you just couldn’t pry your eyes off of number three. How he skated in such an agile manner while simultaneously defending assertively was certainly an image now seared into your mind. The way he commanded the court was just so—“You paying attention? Are you okay today?” Mina snapped you out of your nonsensical trance.

“Yeah, yeah of course! Always on my toes like you said...” your eyes told a different story, and deceived you at that.

“And there’s number three, Sim, with the first goal!”

Jake skated backwards to high five his teammates and to prepare to defend, and it was definitely a sight to see him so animated, feeling right where he should be in his domain.

“Ah, I see. Number three is it? I heard he’s a beast on the ice,” Mina nudged and winked slyly at you, “anyway, pay attention ‘cause if your little ice boy gets hurt you know we gotta move quickly.”

It was already enough to have your friends taunt you about your silly adolescent infatuation with Jake, now to have your mentor in on it too? Mina was right though, you were here to wrap ankles and tend to bruised hips, not ogle at the team captain.

“Gotcha. On my toes!” you winked back at her, semi-ready to do your job. If you could predict injuries before they even happened during the basketball and soccer games you should be more than capable of caring for the hockey players. Whipping your head around to finally and legitimately focus on the members, you really wished you hadn’t.

There he was, number three, adept and dodging the defensive players, with the puck sliding in tandem with his stick. Then, it happened all too quickly, in a tenth of a second, too much for everyone spectating to comprehend.

BAM.

Suddenly, Jake was on his back after he and the opposing player too combatively collided into each other. You blinked once and now he was supine on ice, clutching a leg to his chest. His teammates and the referees hastily surrounded him, but you could not watch anymore, you had to do what you were here for.

Running past both the coaches, lamenting what the hells and go go go! at Mina, you dashed to the edge of the rink, about to enter and slip on the ice, but stopped yourself, because you didn’t have skates on. Fuck. Mina and you always ran to the scene of the injury, and you’d only dealt with hardwood floors and grass fields, but never ice. There was no reason for you to just stand around though, as Jake was being lifted by the referees. As much as you wanted to glue your eyes to the catastrophe, you sprinted to the locker room to fetch the cooler.

“Everyone, move!” You shouted at the towering players standing in your way. Setting the cooler on the floor, you directed some of them to assemble a few of the chairs they were sitting on for a makeshift cot for Jake to rest his leg on. Nervously yet rapidly, you dug into your backpack for a splint, pre-wrap, and medical tape.

When you stood back up, Jake and the referees were at the rink’s entrance, with Mina extending her arms to steady him once he transitioned from ice to linoleum. And through all this he maintained the same tender-hearted curve on his face, beaming at Mina and thanking the referees.

One of Jake’s coaches and Mina propped Jake around their shoulders as he hopped on one foot to your nearby station. Assisting them in getting Jake to sit down, you were shaking slightly out of feverishness and hormones, even though it was the perfect temperature for snowfall, but forming a resistance to doing that was almost impossible.

Christ, you weren’t like this when Taehyun tore his ligament last semester at the basketball semi-finals, or when Yuna sprained her toe out on the field, yet it was due to that certain someone that you just could not find it within you to operate as you usually did. It was imperative that you got out of your own head; Jake was merely another athlete you had to tend to and someone you, quite frankly, had to get over, like now.

Once Jake was seated with his right leg propped up on the opposite chair, he took his helmet off and handed it to his coach standing guard next to him.

“Mina, you guys got this?” The coach hesitantly asked your trainer.

“Absolutely nothing to worry about, Coach Kim! We’ve seen worse than this; we’re good, right Y/N?”

You gave Coach Kim a measly thumbs up and he rushed to get back to the rest of the team to continue with the game, deliberating who would substitute in now that their best player was on the sidelines.

While Mina undid Jake’s skates and kneepads, you assessed him before you could get started, asking him what kind of pain he had in his leg, how much it hurt on a scale of 1-10, and if he could wiggle his toes.

Sharp and kind of aching, I think. 8.5-ish, actually maybe just 8. Toes wiggling.

“Um, okay. Good that your toes are still intact, which means you’re gonna be okay, but is there any other part of your body that hurts?” You tried not to sound like a complete buffoon, trying to enunciate your words properly like you did with several other injured athletes; Jake shouldn’t have been any different. He was, though.

“Yeah, I feel like there’s a bruise on the right side of my body somewhere,” he said, motioning to his abdomen.

“Okay...I’m gonna take your shoulder pads off and you have to take your jersey off so we can ice it, is that cool with you?” Your brain was bouncing off the walls at the mention of “take” and “off”. Come on, this wasn’t fucking NASA, although it might as well have been, as he was a universe and a half to you (in a melodramatic way of sorts).

“Yeah, yeah—for sure. Thanks.” Jake flashed an acknowledging smile, to which your cheeks heated up at. There was an injured boy in front of you—no time for shits and giggles and teenage elation.

As you aided Jake in removing his shoulder pads and jersey, he winced a bit, while trying to hide it at the same time. 

“Are you good? I’ll get some ice on that soon, I promise.” You gradually eased into your ‘medic’ mode, trying to expel as much of your nerves as humanly possible.

“Yeah I’m okay, just hurts a bit. Thanks again,” he could not stop giving you that demure yet brazen demeanor, and to be around a smiling Jake meant a tense you, regardless if your subconscious plan to initiate Nerves Exodus was kind of working.

When Mina stood up, all finished with undoing his skates and knee pads, she asked Jake to repeat what he stated about his pain earlier to you back to her. Before walking to where the coaches and other players were, she chaffed at you, with a mischievous lilt to her words, “you can handle it from here right? The star player’s in your hands.”

Audibly, you ‘mhmmed’ her, and when you were out of Jake’s sight, rolled your eyes, making sure she noticed that. You were glad though, that Mina was your trainer and not some old, stern fart like she had when she interned in your same position; it made for much more “effective” mentoring and communication, especially because she left you alone with the athletes, so you were able to think of what to do next for yourself, and if there were ever any mistakes—which there were none of to date—she would help you work through them.

Holy shit, Mina left. It was just you and Jake.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 3

Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an unexpected heart-to-heart about what it means to be Death and a Cupid on route to a planet where Din’s potential soulmate lives.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,500

Warnings: Pining, smidge of angst, more plot development, Razor Crest (RIP I miss you darling!), a made-up home world for the reader (yes, yes, there’s like a million I could have picked but my brain said NOPE)

Author Note: Ahhhh, the comments are so amazing from you all! Thank you everyone out there sparing time to check out my little universe, it makes me sooo happy you have no idea! As always, I hope you enjoy this new segment as I try to plot this story out and get these two idiots to acknowledge there just might be something between them. 

Also special thanks to @codenamewitcher​​ for including the first two parts on Weekly Fanfic Recs. Be sure to go check out the list for a whole bunch of fantastic stories!

Links to Part 1, Part 2 and Part 4

Photo Inspiration: (What I imagine is beneath the armor in this scene...*dreamy sigh*)

There is a distinct silence that can only be found in hyperspace when the stars outside resemble sparkling streaks of silver tinsel and your breath is trapped within your lungs as you’re awestruck by the sheer beauty of it all. You experience this silence aboard the Razor Crest, sitting in the cockpit behind Din as he pilots his beloved gunship. It isn’t the first time you’ve been a passenger, having traveled with Din on two previous ventures where your Cupid services were required on planets far away from your home on Umbriel.

Off-world assignments for you were generally rare since your bosses were more inclined to choose Cupids of higher ranking to handle those clients, but sometimes you were the only available option left. Which, come to think of it, is exactly how you became the one roped into meeting with Death every full moon. Your bosses decided someone needed to check up on him to make sure he wasn’t reaping anyone before their fated time and thus messing with the natural order of things. You privately have reached the conclusion it was a decision made during a fit of paranoia as you had yet to find any evidence suggesting Din ever broke a single one of the universe’s rules, let alone even considered the mere possibility.

When you did travel for assignments, you never stopped feeling like a goldfish being dumped out of your familiar little bowl and into a massive ocean full of strange oddities. You would often find yourself wasting time trying to successfully navigate the unknown world when you should have been focused on tracking down your client’s soulmate.

That’s why Din had offered to start traveling with you. Actually, in his own words it was because, “You think about love so much you don’t see trouble until it’s an inch in front of you. Someone’s got to be there to look after you.”

You’d tried to argue, told him you had never experienced trouble and that if you did then you could handle it with your bow. All Cupid’s were required to master archery for self-defense purposes, though Din’s responding snort of derision made you suspect he wasn’t convinced of your skills. You wondered if he thought, just as humans incorrectly did, a Cupid only used their bow to spread love and lust. Or maybe he just thought you weren’t capable of such finesse. It was an insulting assumption, fueling you with the burning desire to prove him wrong. One day, you keep telling yourself, a repetitive chant. One day you’ll show him just how capable you are with your weapon and you imagine his look of shock, whether worn openly on his face or hidden beneath the visor of his helmet, will be utterly priceless.

But in the meantime, you’re in no hurry to encounter trouble. Finding enjoyment in taking these trips with him on his ship instead.

The Razor Crest had actually been a complete surprise to you when Din first welcomed you on it; primarily because the notion of him using such a primitive form of transportation despite the powers he possessed as Death was too outrageous to wrap your head around. However, it took less than ten minutes soaring through space for you to discover just how many details of the universe you were missing by relying on your Cupid abilities to teleport yourself between locations. Never would you have imagined Death to be the one to teach you to love the slowness of travel, to let your eyes linger on all the beautiful wonders along the way. But that’s exactly what happened.

You turn your head away from the window to look at Din. From your angle, all you glimpse is the back of his helmet, reflecting the passing starlight. Soon you’ll be introducing Din to the first immortal on your list of potential soulmates.

Death, you quickly correct yourself. He’s only Din when he’s around you.

You initially thought he elected to wear his armor because you told him he could to ease his comfort, but now you think it’s because this is him meeting his potential soulmate as himself. It is easy to forget sometimes this is the image of Death—a warrior enshrouded in beskar, cunning and ruthless—that is recognized throughout the universe. And feared.

If the handsome face he concealed was known instead, you wonder if mortals would readily choose to embrace the ending of their lifetime, rather than foolishly seek to run from its inevitability.

“What is it?” Din’s baritone voice startles you as it shatters the quietness. The modulator within his helmet gives his tone a low raspiness that never fails to send a chill down your spine when you hear it.

“Huh?” You respond ineloquently.

“You’ve been staring at the back of my head for the last five minutes, angel. I figured you had something worth saying.”

“Oh, no. I was just thinking about you.”

Immediately you wish a meteor would collide with the ship, providing you with the necessary distraction to escape and find somewhere you can hide until the end of time.

“...What about me were you thinking?” Din wonders after a solid thirty seconds of pure silence, voice somehow conveying an equally blended mixture of intrigue and wariness. He flips on the ship’s autopilot and turns in his seat to pin you with his gaze, apparently unwilling to let you try and weasel yourself out of the conversation.

You roll the question around in your mind, wanting to give an answer that satisfies him without it also embarrassing yourself further.

“I was thinking how much of an enigma you are,” you murmur at last, leaning back in the chair with your arms crossing over your stomach. “You wield such incredible powers and yet you choose to wear a human face, to call this man-made ship your home and to also spend your spare time living amongst those you will eventually reap. Why are these your choices?”

He tilts his head, and you just know there is a little crease of bewilderment appearing between his eyebrows right now even if you can’t see it. For as much as he is a puzzle you can’t put together, he is also at times an open book that you will never tire of reading.

“I would think you, more than most beings, would understand the discomfort that stems from loneliness and the lengths one will go to ease it,” he says, not unkindly. He mirrors your position, maneuvering himself until he’s comfortable in his seat and totally oblivious to the dilating of your pupils as you observe every subtle shift of his armor-clad body. “Isn’t that the true purpose of Cupids? To spare individuals the ache of living a life of solitude by introducing them to someone to love so they no longer feel it.”

“That’s a poetic way of putting it,” you answer, smiling softly and shrugging your shoulders. “My superiors would just quote our mantra back at me when I used to ask. Amor vincit omnia.”

“Love conquers all.”

You shouldn’t be surprised he’s able to translate such an ancient and obscure language, but your eyes widen regardless. “That’s right.”

His voice is unusually soft when he asks, “Do you like being a Cupid?”

You stare at him, caught off guard by how easily he’s changed the topic of the conversation from himself to you. You’re used to taking orders and being thanked for your services, but no one has ever asked you if you liked doing any of it.

“I’m good at it,” you finally say, even though it’s not really an answer.

He nods his head still, as if he understands. A part of you thinks he actually does.

You lick your lips, eyeing him hesitantly. “Do you...like being Death?”

“I’m good at it,” he echoes, but your words sound somber coming from his lips.

The cockpit fills with hushed silence again, but there’s a unique tenderness unlike ever before. Minutes seem to stretch on for entire seasons as you watch one another, content to simply coexist and revel in each other’s presences.

It would be so easy to slip off his helmet and kiss him right now.

You stiffen, stunned at your own thought, but you aren’t given the chance to analyze it further as an alarm on the ship’s control panel announces with a resounding beep you’ve reached your destination.

Din spins in his seat, reclaiming control of the steering to begin the ship’s landing process. You look out the front window at the large green-blue planet drawing nearer with every anxious tick of your heartbeat.

“We’re here,” you say needlessly, forcing excitement into your voice. Fake it till you make it, isn’t that the human expression?

“Who is it we’re meeting on this backwater skug hole?” Din asks, pressing a series of buttons above his head.

You kick the back of his seat. “Be nice,” you scold when he shoots you a look. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath as he turns back around, prompting you to roll your eyes. “She’s a goddess of springtime and motherhood. The locals call her Omera.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @eleine-t1d​, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​

[tefilovesreading]

It’s a match! Part. 1

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem!Reader

Word count: +1,7k

Warnings: language, mention of alcohol.

A/N: This is a mini series, I’m not sure how many parts it’s gonna have and there’s gonna be some texts in between. LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED. 

Edited by: @theamazingtomholland

MASTERLIST // PART 2 // PART 3

She felt her hands start sweating as she saw the small circle slowly filling up, letting her know that the app was being downloaded. She knew what a dating app was, how it worked and what was its purpose, but never created her account, not that she needed it before because she had a boyfriend. Her roommate, on the other hand, was well acquainted with dating apps, and they’d spent nights swiping through the profiles together. 

Now that she was single for the first time since she graduated from high school, her roommate and best friend had convinced her to download Tinder and have fun.

“You don’t even have to go and meet the guy, Y/N,” Jo had said with a beaming smile to encourage her when they met for coffee earlier that day, “just have a look and see if you find someone you’d want to talk to.”

She nibbled on her lip when the circle filled up entirely and the icon appeared on her screen, bright and inviting. Putting her phone down, she decided she’d create her account later, for now, downloading it was more than enough.

In her sophomore year, she broke up with her boyfriend because they couldn’t find time to be together, too busy with classes, exams, and part-time jobs. But that didn’t last long, ‘cause they got back together after three weeks. 

Those three weeks ignited a spark in her, suddenly things were more exciting to her, and she didn’t feel like she was acting how others expected her to. Y/N felt a kind of freedom that made her go on a date with her co-worker, sure they just went for a coffee together once and decided that they were better off as friends, but that small rejection made her want to make that spark disappear.

Being with Lance made things easier, they knew each other since they were little, and that meant she didn’t have to open up to let him know her flaws and fears, because he knew her like the palm of his hand. Being with him made her feel safe, even when they were apart during his first year of college since she was a year younger than him and was still in high school when he left for college, but that safety net vanished when Lance decided he wanted to spend time overseas after he graduated from college. And it was useless to wait for him if he wasn’t even sure he wanted to come back.

Eight months later, Y/N felt that spark reigniting again, making her feel like she was missing something. Ever since Lance left, she spent too much time afraid to put herself out there. How can you let someone into your life and trust them to not hurt you? After all, she trusted Lance for so long just to get hurt because they didn’t want the same things, and their paths went in different ways. But Y/N knew she couldn’t hide much longer, she wanted to go out, have fun, go on dates and meet new people, she just didn’t know how to start.

Her phone vibrated with a new notification from her best friend, and she snorted at her text.

Jo: Any matches yet heartbreaker???

If only Jo knew she still wasn’t able to bring herself into making an account. Maybe she could choose the pictures first, plan her bio, and then create it. Planning that out was definitely better than staring at the app icon.

Y/N: Not yet, but I’ll let you know ;)

After an hour of scrolling through her photos, Y/N chose five pictures where she looked decent. Hell, she looked really hot in one or two of those, and she wasn’t going to act as if that wasn’t true.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered to herself after her account was finally set up. 

It was a strange feeling swiping through the profiles, reading their bios, and rolling her eyes at some of them. But after a few minutes, she started enjoying it, not even feeling bad if she didn’t match with a guy.

She smiled at the simple bio on her screen and swiped right, not even bothering to go through his other photos. He was cute, he seemed like he liked to have fun, and even though he was cute, he was also hot. A dangerous mix, but a really nice one.

It’s a match!

“Honey I’m home!” her best friend sang, entering  the living room.

“Shit Jo!” Y/N scolded the girl, “you scared me.”

“Why?” Jo faked an offended look, “were you sending dirty messages or something?”

“Oh shut up,” Y/N said, handing her phone over to her friend with a sheepish smile on her face, “check out my last match.”

“Okay, so he likes outdoor activities, he plays the guitar, and he has a cute smile,” her friend listed, swiping through his photos, “what are you waiting for, Y/N? Send him a message!”

“I was actually waiting for him to send one first,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks heat up, “you know I suck with conversations over chat.”

“But what if he’s waiting for you to talk to him, and you don’t do it,” Y/N looked at her friend and knew she was already making up a whole movie in her head, about how they could be soulmates, but they would never know if she didn’t send him a text.

“Fine!” She huffed and took her phone from her friend’s hands, “Do I send him a hello or what?”

“No, that’s too dry,” Jo replied, “you should ask him about where he took that picture, the one where he’s in the snow.”

She bit her bottom lip to distract herself from the fact that she felt as if her stomach was tied up in knots. He was really cute, and she had a good feeling about him, almost as if the universe was telling her to go for it, meet up with him and have fun.

Hesitating at first, she let her finger hover over the little “send” button for a few seconds, before pressing the screen and sending the text.

Y/N: Hey! Where did you take the first pic? The place looks great

“What now?” Jo looked at her with one of her eyebrows arched.

“We wait, you idiot.”

“I need to do something,” Y/N locked her phone and got up, “if I stay on that couch waiting for a reply I’m gonna end up with no nails.”

“I did your nails last night, Y/N, don’t ruin my work,” Jo complained, “why don’t you cook dinner today?, and I’ll wash the dishes, so you can text with that guy if he replies to you by the time we’re done eating.”

“I’m gonna ignore the fact that it was your turn, Jo” she pointed out but made her way to the kitchen anyway, “and you better wash, dry, and put the dishes back in the cabinets.”

Cooking was the perfect distraction, and the glass of wine she drank while they were eating helped her loosen up just enough to check her phone without feeling like she was getting back some important results.

Charlie: It’s in Canada Charlie: Sulphur Mountain Trail! Charlie: I like your smile btw

She smiled with excitement when she opened the app and saw those three messages, and just as she was about to respond, Charlie sent another one.

Charlie: How was your day??  Y/N: It was good, pretty relaxing actually Y/N: Yours?? Charlie: Great! I went hiking with a friend, so now I’m just chilling at home Y/N: I’m assuming you’re into hiking, don’t you??? Charlie: Hahaha yeah you’re right Charlie: I guess I enjoy being outside, it keeps my mind occupied

Y/N: I get it, I’m not really into outdoor activities Y/N: I mean Y/N: I don’t mind going on a hike once in a while, but I prefer reading, painting, or playing some music  Y/N: To keep my mind occupied 

Five texts in a row. Was that too much? She didn’t want to appear intense, but she also didn’t want to send just one massive text and type it for way too long.

Charlie: You play an instrument?? Charlie: I love music Y/N: Yeah I play the piano Y/N: I just don’t have one with me now, so I haven’t played in a while Charlie: Oh! That sucks! Charlie: When I moved here I think I packed my guitars first and then the rest of my stuff

Y/N let out a soft laugh at his text, he did seem like the kind of guy to pack random stuff before things that he might actually need. She should’ve done the same, she missed playing the piano, and now that she was miles away from her parents’ house it wasn’t like she could just go and play. Especially because she didn’t even know how to drive a car.

Y/N: Should’ve done the same if I’m honest Y/N: Where are you from? You said you moved here

After reading his answer to her last question, she groaned in embarrassment because it was the most obvious answer, and yet she didn’t notice it.

Charlie: I’m Canadian

She lost track of time talking to him about things they both enjoyed doing, what was their favorite movie, favorite musician, and to her surprise it was so easy to talk to him about small things like that could help you a lot to get to know another person. Y/N got startled when Jo touched her shoulder to get her attention.

“I’m off to bed, babe,” Y/N dodged when her friend tried to ruffle her hair as if she was a little kid, “don’t go to bed too late.”

“I won’t mom,” she replied jokingly, “sweet dreams, Jo.”

With a heavy sigh, Y/N typed a message, telling him that she needed to get some rest and that she was hoping they could keep talking the next day.

Charlie: Do you mind if I ask you for your number?? Charlie: I’d love to call you or FaceTime with you if you’re okay with that

“Shit, shit, shit,” she whispered, wishing her best friend hadn’t gone to bed already. Of course, she wanted to give him her number, but was she supposed to give her number to the first guy she talked to on Tinder? “fuck it, I’m doing it.”

Y/N sent him her number and after telling him goodnight, she closed the app and got ready for bed. She really had a good feeling about this whole thing, and she couldn’t put her finger on what it was, because the feeling started even before they even matched. 

Maybe it was just fate doing its work.

[buckyswinterbaby]

Rule Number Four — Oneshot **

Pairing: softdom!Bucky Barnes x reader

Synopsis: Bucky returns home early from a mission to find the reader in a compromising position. Rules are broken and new ones are made.

Warnings: language, smut (18+), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), fluffy ending, softdom!Bucky, daddy kink (not ddlg), reader is submissive, nipple play, orgasm denial, metal arm kink, fingering (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degradation and a size kink (if you squint), aftercare, established relationship, masturbation.

Please like and reblog (I love that shit)! Click here to fill out the form to be added to my tag list!

Divider is made by me. Please as permission to use it. Click

Word Count: 2,291

Note: Here’s my first attempt at actually posting an “x reader” or smut fic so please be gentle with her. This was based on a post I saw a bit ago about submissives masturbating while wearing their dom’s hoodie, so I thought I’d give it a go. I hope you guys enjoy!

You had become his wife nearly three months ago and this was the longest stretch you had been apart since.

Even before marriage, the two of you were practically inseparable. You were often found curled on his inviting lap with two arms circled around you, one flesh and one metal, holding you tightly to his chest. To say you had missed the comfort of his warm embrace would be the understatement of the year. It was more like you had been lost without it.

His arms were far from the only thing you missed about your soldier. Before his departure, Bucky had listed off a few rules to follow in his absence. Possibly enjoying your long standing dominant and submissive dynamic a bit more than he was willing let on in that moment.

Rule one: No touching yourself without permission. Cruel but simple enough.

Rule two: No orgasms. Bucky knew you too well to believe you wouldn’t find a loophole that didn’t involve dipping those delicate fingers between your folds.

Rule three, possibly the worst of the set, which was likely his intention: Nipple play, at least once a day. He wanted your delicious buds oversensitive and aching by the time he found his way home to you. While your cunt was left thoroughly neglected and needing his touch.

It was that one rule, one single command that had you breaking all the rest. You had held out for nearly his entire time away, only crumbling when you went to fulfill the rule one last time, the anticipation of his return clouding your senses.

You had intended to do as he said. You laid yourself out on the large bed that had felt overwhelmingly cold and lonely without him, clothed in nothing but his oversized sweatshirt that adorned the S.H.I.E.L.D logo on the front. Perhaps that was your first mistake, opting to forgo the panties you had been wearing the entire day. Leaving your dripping core exposed to the night air with your husband still, as you believed, across the world and unable to claim it.

Your delicate fingers traced the familiar path up the length of your torso, trailing along the valley between your soft breasts that Bucky so often spent his time worshiping. The hem of the sweatshirt rode up more and more as your hand made its way up. A flame flickered in the pit of your belly as you found your hardening nipples, the cool metal of your wedding ring ghosting over. For just a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine it was Bucky’s hand in place of your’s. The cold and unyielding vibranium working your body into fits of pleasure.

It was that thought that had your other hand trailing down instead of up, finding its way to the apex of your thighs. One finger wouldn’t hurt, you surmised. Though that one quickly led to two with a thumb working furiously on your throbbing clit.

Bucky heard your soft moans before he even approached the door, a wide grin spreading across his face. He was home hours earlier than anticipated, a fact he was suddenly so very grateful for. After another moment of listening, he heard the gentle string of gasps you would always release in pleasure, an undeniable sign that your orgasm was quickly approaching.

His interest was thoroughly peaked as he quietly slipped his way into the barely lit bedroom, drinking in the sight of you spread out before him like a man dying of dehydration.

“Y/n,” he called out, alerting you to his presence. Bucky licked his lips as he zeroed in on your now stilled hand, fingers slick and deep within you.

You knew better than to remove them, he’d tell you if that was what he wanted. Your breasts heaved as you breathed out, waiting for him to say something or act, you’d take anything over the silence that now hung in the air between you.

In two steps, Bucky crossed the distance and now stood at the foot of the bed. “I gave you three rules, doll, just three. Thought I’d be nice and make em’ simple for you. Seems you can’t even do that right, can you?”

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you called out, your voice sounding more like a pathetic whimper than actual words. You tried to go on and explain how you had tried to be good but Bucky quickly cut you off. You honestly couldn’t remember even making the decision to ignore the rule.

“Don’t bother trying to apologize now.” His metal hand trailed up your thigh as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. Slowly making his way up until he swatted your hand away, not failing to notice how visibly damp the sleeve of the hoodie now was. “You’ve made your bed, baby girl. I think it’s about time you had to lay in it.”

Your walls clenched down, now feeling empty without anything inside. That feeling didn’t last long as Bucky dipped a metal finger between your lips, gathering the arousal you had so eagerly coaxed out only minutes before. He didn’t waste another moment before pushing in two thick fingers, quickly setting a punishing pace as they curled around to rub your g-spot with each pump.

Your back arched off the bed as he drove you to the brink of release in what seemed like a matter of seconds, skilled hands doing what took you at least a few minutes. It was easy to get lost in these moments with the man you loved and trusted without question. Never hesitating to give over control to your husband as you let yourself fall further into the pleasure he was providing. And boy were you truly lost, at least until the pleasure stopped as his fingers stilled inside you, continuing to ever so gently rub that special spot he could find all too easily.

You looked over at him in surprise as your building orgasm quickly dissipated. “Bucky?”

“Patience. You’ve got a few questions to answer first.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at your huff of annoyance. “Was this the first time you broke rule number one while I was gone? You better be honest with me.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to form an understandable sentence as his thumb rubbed slow, lazy circles against your clit. Your hips bucked involuntarily against his ministrations, he didn't seem angry, though.

“Did you break number two?” he questioned, his free hand roaming up to tease your sensitive nipples, purposefully giving the right one more attention than the other just to drive you nuts.

It took a few more seconds for you to compose yourself enough to speak. “I didn’t,” you moaned out, throwing your head back after a particularly hard pinch to the right nipple.

“Not for a lack of trying, it seems.”

A dark blush crept onto your already flushed cheeks. “I wanted to, daddy. I needed to. I followed rule three the entire time and I just couldn’t take it anymore.” You knew Bucky’s dominant side loved a lusty confession. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t trying to butter him up into finally allowing your release. If you only knew how much you’d end up regretting that wish.

“I left you alone too long, didn’t I? Your greedy little pussy isn’t used to not getting what she wants. And I think I know just the punishment to remind you that when you cum, how much you cum isn’t your decision.” You nearly came around his fingers then and there, which likely wouldn’t do much to fix your predicament besides providing momentary relief. “So you’ll get your orgasm, baby. Then you’ll take every other one I can give you and you’ll say thank you for being so generous. Scream it, even. Loud enough that Steve feels like he needs to go to confession.”

Your breath got caught in your throat at his words, goosebumps rising up behind the path of his flesh hand as it found its way to rest on your lower stomach. “How many?” You recognized that you should likely be afraid of his answer, but honestly nothing could prepare you for the reality.

Bucky seemed to debate the question for a moment before meeting your gaze, giving you the playful smirk you had fallen in love with some five odd years ago. “I dunno,” he admitted. “I haven’t decided yet. You’ll know when I’m done with you.”

His thrusts had been relentless for what seemed like hours, maybe it actually had been that long, you honestly couldn’t keep track. Orgasms blurred together as he used his super soldier endurance and sex drive to deliver the punishment he promised and then some.

Your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, holding him closer to your sweat covered body as he continued to rut up against your abused sex, riding you through your most recent release.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes from how sensitive you had become, the multiple orgams and brutal pace allowing you no mercy. His thumb swept away a fallen tear before it could run down your cheek, his swollen lips capturing your’s in a far more passionate and intimate kiss than the others you had received throughout the night. Everything seemed to soften after that, besides his cock, of course. His thrusts slowed to a steady but more gentle rhythm as he recognized you were nearing your limit, but also not quite there yet.

Bucky spared a glance at where you bodies were connected, momentarily becoming captivated by the sight. His eyes returned to your’s, pupils still dark and blown, yet they seemed to be more passionate than ravenous now.

“One more, baby, can you do that for me? Give me one more and you can rest.”

You nodded while letting out a string of deep moans, desperately bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts in chase of your final orgasm. It didn’t take long for you to feel the familiar pressure building in your belly, raising you higher and higher in bliss. Words were far beyond you now, only a breathy string of his name escaping your parted lips as you buried your head in the space where his neck connected to his shoulder.

His thrusts grew sloppy as he attempted to hold out until you came crashing around him. His left arm was resting beside your head, holding his large frame up above your’s as not to crush your smaller body beneath him. Metal fingers found their way into the locks of your hair spread out on the pillows. Gentle tugs forced your head up, your eyes meeting his piercing blue ones.

“I want to watch you when you cum.”

Your eyes never left his as he brought you to the rising crescendo that would bring the night to its end. The unyielding intensity and intimacy of the moment had you feeling small but so very safe underneath him. Bucky was home and he was in control, you didn’t have to worry about a thing. You came undone around his cock once again, your tight walls pulling him across the finish line with you. A few more lazy thrusts followed as he painted your pulsing heat, gently pulling out once he was spent.

Bucky moved to lay down beside you, taking a moment to catch his breath before moving to check on you.

His nose brushed against the rim of your ear as he leaned over to place a kiss on your flushed cheek. He whispered soothing words against your skin as you came down, knowing you needed the reassurances and affection after a rough session. “You did so good, took everything just like I told you to. You’re too good to me.” Calloused hands that had spent so many years committing unspeakable acts now gently smoothed down your wild hair. “How about we get you cleaned up, okay?”

He waited for you to nod before moving you into his arms, carrying your spent body to the bathroom so you could take care of your needs while he ran a bath.

Once he knew the water was just how you like it, he moved into the tub, helping you position yourself between his legs with your back against his toned chest. Your head rested back against his shoulder as he moved the soapy loofah across your arms. It took a few more minutes, but slowly Bucky noticed that you were coming out of the headspace you always seemed to slip into when you truly relinquished control to him.

“Was I too rough?” His question broke the comfortable silence you both had fallen into since entering the attached bathroom.

A soft smile graced your lips in response, your heart swelling at his concern just as much as it had on your very first night together. You raised a hand up to rest on his cheek, pulling him down into a gentle and loving kiss. “You were perfect. If that’s what happens every time I misbehave while you’re away, I might just make a habit out of it.”

A chuckle rumbled from deep in Bucky’s chest as he shook his head in amusement. “Doll, you say that like you aren’t already the biggest pain in my ass since the day I met Steve.”

You didn’t hesitate to send a playful jab between his ribs in protest. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Barnes, I am a delight. The light of your damn life, even.”

An adoring smile made its way onto his features as he captured your lips in a brief kiss again. “Now that...that’s something we can agree on. Rule number four is that you never forget it.”

[monsoonblooms12]

Belamour (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Set after Book 3, Pooja finally gets Ethan to dance in the rain.

A/N: A silly something born out of my love for rains and my binge listening to 80s Bollywood classics (I have no idea what kinda mess this is tbh). Also, my first song based fic🤎

A/N 2: The song lyrics are indented (Translation in parenthesis)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Rating: General

Word Count: around 1.5K

Category: Total fluff

Warnings: None that I noticed

Song Inspiration: Aaj Kal Yaad Kuch by Mohammed Aziz

READ ON AO3

A pair of summery blue orbs insistently stare at the world beyond the glass windows.

A world that was now being washed by the consistent droplets that came down from the adobe of clouds to meet their origin.

Their drum was usually henotic, tranquil for him.

But at the moment, it only added to his irritation and deepened the void of disappointment that had formed in his chest.

In another room of the same house, a pair of amber orbs watched the magic of nature with a child-like wonder.

The pleasant, dewy petrichor spread around her, and the mellifluous tunes of Earth's own orchestra made her forget the fast turns her life went through in the past day.

In the faint light, she picked up her hand and let the jewel, the stone that was nothing less than a promise of forever, shine like the billion stars that dot the sky at nights that are devoid of clouds.

As the iridescent lights make her eyes sparkle, a vague idea forms in her brain.

Her thoughts float to reach the person who gifted her happiness, and a smile lit up on her face.

There was a mix of challenge and love in the quest she was about to partake and she was determined to succeed.

In slow, soundless steps, she made her way out of the room and out of the house.

A blur went past and his trained eyes were quick enough to catch the motion.

Shaking his head with realization, he followed behind.

As the steps took him down, and he stood under the shade of the multi-floored skyrise, she stayed yards away from it.

Her hair was wet, her skirt twirling, her face bright and beautiful.

He felt his heart race, whispering an urge to join with hers.

He restrained himself, but the scene in front of him was so spectacular that he doubted just how long his restraint would last.

After what felt like an eternity, she turned to him, half of her face golden under the street lights, the other half bearing the monotones of black and white.

She looked like the personification of their love.

Her life the golden, and his the black and white.

He could write sonnets to describe the picture-perfect scene that played before him like a film, but all he did was stand still, unable to tear his eyes away, unable to speak the words that hadn't already been spoken, his well-thumbed thesaurus gathering dust in the labyrinths of his mind.

She looked at him with a longing, a spoken call for him to join her as the rains continued to fall and purify the earth.

All he did was shake his head in silence.

She took it as a challenge, and he already knew how it was going to end.

For a minute he got lost in her memories, reminiscences from a time, from a moment that passed too quick, yet slow enough for him to remember every moment of it.

And suddenly, the faint tunes of a song brought him back to the present.

Every word of the foreign seeming language lucid clear, setting in a cascade of emotions and bringing pictures etched in past pages of the novel of life, making him go on a trip down the memory lane.

Aajkal Yad Kuch Aur Rehta Nahi

(Nowadays I don't seem to remember anything else)

Ek Bas Aapki Yad Aane Ke Bad

(Once your memories enchant me)

Yaad Aane Se Pehle Chale Aaiye

(Please come to me before the memories reach me)

Aur Phir Jaiye Jan Jane Ke Bad

(And then leave only after my breath leaves me)

The truth of the words came with an epiphany.

Every day of knowing her had been a way of painting the monotones of his life in colours he thought didn't belong to him.

Every moment she had ever spent away from him had made him yearn for her more than ever.

And yet he was foolish enough to think that miles of distance and hundreds of hours could make him forget her.

All the distress he felt could have been so easily ended if she had been with him then.

And now, as he dreams of an aeon with her, he promises to only let her go when his breath leaves him alone.

Apni Aankhon Me Mujhko Basa Lijiye

(Allow me to settle in the world of your eyes)

Apne Dil Me Mera Ghar Bana Dijiye

(Make a home for me in your heart)

Kya Karu Dil Kahi Aur Lagta Nahi

Pyar Me Aapse Dil Lagane Ke Bad

(What's the fault of mine if I can't concentrate on anything other than you, since our hearts connected by the string of love)

As the minutes pass by, melting into each other to form an hour, he loses all tracks of time.

And amidst the sweven he was living in right now, at a moment he could not pinpoint, she had taken his hand into hers and now he stood, lost in the amber of her eyes, forgetting all about the shower that now fell upon him.

As she continued to mutter the tunes in a harmony that went on in rhythm with the rain, he wished he could live in the world of her orbs.

To see the world as she saw it, to live the life from her perspective.

All he wanted was home in her heart, a tiny place on the lands of her soul.

Ishq Ke Maine Kitne Fasane Sune

(I have heard many tales of epic romances)

Husb Ke Kitne Kisse Purane Sune

(And stories about beautiful people from bygone eras)

Aisa Lagta Hai Phir Is Tarah Tut Kar

Pyar Hamne Kiya Ek Zamane Ke Bad

(But I feel I have been broken and got mended by love after centuries)

In muted harmonies, the two of them twirled, forgetting the world around them.

The way their eyes held onto each other, as if holding onto their lives, reminded him of the tales of love the folklores talk about.

The romances of princesses and maidens, and of beauties who earned their fairytale.

But as her palm stroked his cheek in a feather-light motion, he concluded that all those tales faint in front of the story of theirs.

There were no royals, no cruel witches setting up spells and no poisoned apples.

There were just two people, broken by the storms life made them navigate through, fitting perfectly as if parts of a whole.

He tried to remember if he had ever experienced anything as he did now, his lip tracing her ear as his hands wrapped around her waist.

It didn't even take him a second to know the answer.

He hadn't.

Aapka Naam Dil Se Nikalta Nahi

(Your name never leaves my heart)

Dillagi Me Koi Zor Chalta Nahi

Dillagi Me Koi Zor Chalta Nahi

(No force is strong enough to stop the meet of two hearts)

Aapko Bhul Jane Ki Koshish Bhi Ki

(I tried a hundred times to forget you)

Aur Tadpa Hun Main Bhool Jaane Ke Baad

(And suffered a suffering of pain and agony once I forgot you)

The rains accelerate and become a downpour. The mist envelops them but there was no care for the changing environment.

The distance between them ceases to exist as their hearts finally get the pleasure of beating in unison.

In the next moments, she whispers close to his ear, the last of the melody, and it's his story.

The story of how he couldn't get rid of the five-lettered name since the first time he ever came to know about it.

Of how no force in the world could stop two hearts from meeting if that's what destiny had in plan for them.

Who one loves and who loves them back determines so much in one life.

And for him, it was a chance, a risk he was scared to take, dreading the destruction it may cause.

After all when had anything ever-blossoming flowers in the city of his soul?

But this time not only did spring finally arrived with its flowery footsteps but also led to a discovery of himself, a part of him that was buried under layers of snow from the winter that reigned in his life for years.

She taps twice on his heart, indicating how he had tried to forget her, all those years ago. And how he broke himself in the process.

As she hummed the last lines, he bowed down in front of the forces that brought the two of them together.

He thanked the stars which aligned the way did to let him fall for her and agreed to hide, to let the rains fall, to let him have this night with her.

And looked in awe at the woman who brought about the sweetest catastrophe mankind has ever known.

And without uttering a word, he picks her and kisses her, saying all that was left unsaid with it.

PS: I actually have another version of the song, that I sung specifically to go with this, but Tumblr is giving me troubles to upload it. Do let me know if you would like to hear it someday.

Anyways, If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

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