#and now of course the sun sets much later so it’s harder if I don’t want to be out of the house forever

[fulokis]

I miss being able to sit outside and look at the stars

[gallaghersgal]

DAY ONE → apocalypse, lip gallagher

TAGS & WARNINGS → honestly not much, js mentions of an apocalyptic society. otherwise fluffy!

WC → 662

you’d never thought you would live to see the day that life as you knew it fell to ruin. it happened quicker than you could’ve ever imagined. one day you were nineteen, smoking a joint out the gallagher boys’ bedroom window, swapping kisses with lip while ian rolled his eyes, and carl tried to steal the goods right out of your hand. then suddenly your family was gone, the city wasn’t safe anymore—not that it ever had been, but it was much worse now—and you were piling into a van with all seven gallaghers, your eyes set on the safety you’d heard of in more rural, southern parts of the country. the way veronica cried and clinged to fiona as she said goodbye was burned forever into your brain.

three years later, you were making do in the shadow of the appalachian mountains. it was honestly cruel, the beauty of what surrounded you. outside of chicago the land had stretched on forever in uniform, level plains, and while you’d always said you hated it, what you wanted now more than anything was to see those stupid boring fields again. the land here was sickeningly gorgeous, with the high altitude making way for clouds to kiss the mountaintops which your town was settled beneath. 

lip sits in the open window, his eyes glancing between your sleeping form, and those same mountains you’d traveled through years ago. he watches the faint lights of the high society assholes who drive up there, passing over the dark underbelly of their society without a thought. he watches as the sun rises, then watches as you slowly blink awake in the pathetic excuse for a bed the two of you share. 

“lip? come t’bed, please,” you mumble, and he obliges. the bed dips as he lays next to you, bringing one arm to circle your waist. “’s apple pickin’ day, y’need to rest” you murmur to him, one finger gently stroking the bridge of his nose. he would never admit it, but he loves the sensation. 

“eight fuckin’ mile walk, all f’some apples,” he says in a low grumble, but you can see his mouth is turned into the barest hint of a smile.

it’s not long before he drifts off, the exhaustion taking over his body. you untangle yourself as quietly as possible, giving yourself time to take some semblance of a bath and tuck your hair into a neat style to keep it out of your face. when the sun starts to crest above the mountaintops you wake him.

lip grumbles, of course he does, but he drags himself out of bed and the two of you start off towards the orchard. a few hours in the cool autumn air have you arriving at the small, abandoned tourist town.

lip catches sight of an old country general store, and he elbows you gently. “y’think i can find a pack ‘f cigs in there?” he asks.

you shrug, standing at the top of the hill and looking down over the expanse of the orchard. neat rows of trees with rotted wooden labels boast bright red fruits on their untrimmed branches. for the first time in recent memory you truly smile. 

wind sweeps across your face as you turn back to him, slinging the empty backpack off your shoulder to fill it with the prized fruits. “i dunno, i’m gonna go pickin’,” you say with a kiss to his cheek. 

before you can take a step lip hooks a finger in your belt loop. “nuh-uh baby, y’re stayin’ with me.” he ignores your grumpy expression, gently tugging you with him towards the store. “we don’t know what fucked up shit is down there. i’m keepin’ you in my sight so i know y’re safe.”

you want to pout, but the simple action shows you how much he cares for you. words are hard for him—emotions even harder—but he shows you in these small ways. it warms your heart.

MASTERLIST || INBOX

[faster-faster-aster]

Gold and Gravel ~2k words, marcnaia immediately post-Aragon 2024

Pecco has been watching the patch of sunlight on the wall of his motorhome change shade and shape for the last several hours. White fades to gold; the rectangle slants into a diamond as the sun slants towards the horizon. Good, he thinks. The sooner it sets, the sooner he can set this wretched weekend behind him. 

If he closes his eyes, strains his ears to listen, he can still hear the cheers and chants of Marc’s fans. It’s not so loud, anymore— the roar giving way to a low and distant rumble, like thunder on the horizon. Going out like the tide, washing into the streets of Alcañiz. It will go on all night, he is sure of it. And maybe if things were different he’d be celebrating too— if he’d taken Acosta’s place, or better, Martin’s— if he had shared the podium with Marc again. Alex could have joined them too, but that possibility is gone now. Buried in the gravel, crushed somewhere in the mess of metal and limbs. 

Pecco shudders. Shifts the ice pack on his shoulder that has long since melted. It’s not his fault, he knows. The stewards said it wasn’t, laid the blame evenly between them— but the guilt creeps in all the same. At very least he was too harsh on Alex after the race. He’d meant it then— hurting and angry and embarrassed—  he wouldn’t say it now. 

Because if he were better, he would have known not to take the risk. If he were better, he’d deserve the title he may as well have handed to Martin. If he were better, he wouldn’t have been battling Alex at all— would have been running at the front. Fighting with Marc, maybe, like they had three years ago. 

He sighs. Maybe if he were better he would be able to rein in his thoughts, wouldn’t be sitting here spinning his wheels and going nowhere. He’ll be up all night, at this rate, unless Carola comes and drags him to bed. 

There’s a knock at the door. Pecco winces as he pushes himself up onto his elbows. It’s probably Bez, he usually likes to stop by after a bad race, so he heaves himself the rest of the way up, walks stiffly to the door and opens it. 

And stands there, blinking in surprise, because— it’s Marc, on the other side of the door, one hand fiddling with his watch. 

It takes at least a minute for Pecco’s brain to reboot. When it does, all he’s able to say is a quiet, questioning, “Uh, hi?” because— this is the last place Marc should be, today. 

“Hi,” Marc says. “Can… can I come in?” he asks, a moment later, and Pecco realizes he’s been blocking the doorway. 

“Yeah, of course,” he says, stepping aside. 

He follows Marc in, goes to the counter and sits on it. Marc leans on the table opposite him— Pecco watches as he glances over, as he frowns at the ice packs on the shelf by the couch, the half-empty packet of ibuprofen. 

The guilt washes over him like a wave again, pools cold and heavy in his chest. The only reason why Marc would come here, when he should be off celebrating somewhere with his team, is because of the crash. Because of what Pecco had done to his brother, what he’d said about Alex afterwards. Marc must be here to bite back. Harder, Vale had said, now that he’s seen Pecco bleeding. And Pecco doesn’t want that— can’t stomach any cutting words from Marc when he’s heard them enough in his own head. 

Marc opens his mouth but Pecco speaks first, ducking his head as he does. “If you’re here about Alex, I’m sorry,” he says, and it feels too much like baring his neck for slaughter, but he continues. “I was upset, hurting; the interview, what I said, I meant it then— but not anymore. I know he didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Pecco,” Marc starts, but he just shakes his head. 

“And I— it was a stupid move. Too risky. Another lap and I could’ve caught him anyways, it was my mistake.”

“Pecco, I—” Marc starts to say again, but Pecco presses on. The longer he’s talking, the longer Marc isn’t— the longer he can delay the inevitable. 

“I’ll apologize. Next chance I get, I will— I will walk it back. I don’t want to make trouble for him.” And that’s all he has to say— all his cards laid on the table. He clenches his jaw, grips the counter with white knuckles. Braces for the bite. 

But Marc’s voice is soft as he says, “Pecco, look at me,” and it’s so unexpected— what can he do but lift his head?

Across from him, Marc is standing in the patch of sunlight he was watching earlier. It paints gold over the planes of him, his face, pools warm and honey-rich in the dark of his eyes. Catches in his hair like a glowing halo. Winning looks good on him— there is a weightlessness, an ease to him now that Pecco has never seen before, only marred by the concerned slant of his brow. 

“I appreciate it— you should apologize to Alex,” Marc says, slow and measured, “but that is not why I am here.”

“Then why?” Pecco asks before he can stop himself. “You should be celebrating, no?”

“No, actually. We are leaving for Madrid in an hour— no time.”

Pecco must look confused because Marc waves his hand in a vague gesture and says, “Eh, I’m too old for all of that now. Maybe in a few years you’ll understand.”

Pecco just shakes his head. Doesn’t want to think about being Marc’s age, having to endure the same things he has. “You look— you looked fantastic all weekend,” he says instead. “On the bike,” he clarifies. “Even if it were just a few drinks, you would deserve it.”

He watches Marc’s reaction closely, half-hoping the praise will catch him off-balance like it does to Pecco. But Marc just smiles at him, all relaxed lines and incandescent teeth, and Pecco is the one knocked unsteady. 

“Eh, maybe,” Marc says. “But look at you, distracting me again.” 

Pecco just blinks at him. If he’s not here about Alex, or to fish for congratulations, then why the fuck is he here?

He must be making a face, because Marc laughs, shakes his head, and says, “Pecco, I came here to check on you.”

“What?” Pecco breathes, feeling like he’s suffocating under the bike again. Because that— that doesn’t make any sense. That’s not who Marc is, not ruthless or cunning like Pecco has come to expect. Surely it’s just another mind game. 

But Marc sounds entirely genuine as he says, “The crash— I saw on the replay. It was bad for Alex but it looked worse for you.” He winces as his eyes flick down to the collar of Pecco’s shirt, where the bruising edges its way up his neck. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Pecco shrugs. “It could have been worse— my helmet did not catch on the tyre,” he says, slow and measured, trying not to give too much away. “Both of us walked away from it. No broken bones.”

“That’s always good,” Marc says with a knowing look. 

There’s a beat of silence between them. Marc seems unsatisfied, somehow, waiting for more— and maybe that’s the game, Pecco realizes. Offer a bit of vulnerability, see who flinches first. He hasn’t made a good counter to Marc yet, but he can. 

“Still fucking hurts, though— I am very bruised,” he says. “Do you want to see?”

Marc perks up at that. “Sure,” he says casually, but the way he leans forward belies his interest. 

So Pecco hops down from the counter, turns his back to Marc, and shucks his shirt off over his head, wincing as the movement strains his sore muscles. 

He doesn’t dare look at Marc, but he hears his sharp intake of breath, how the table shifts as he stands. “Shit, Pecco,” he hisses as he steps closer and then— 

Marc’s hand brushes the curve of Pecco’s shoulder blade, feather-light, testing. The sensation sings up his spine, sets him alight— he only just suppresses the urge to shiver. Because he knows what Marc must see, the pale skin of his back mottled purple from neck to tailbone; he’d caught a glimpse of it in the mirror and had to look away immediately, feeling ill. He’d hoped Marc would do the same.

But he seems to have no such reservations. He splays his hand out over the bruise, gently probing with his fingers. It feels— it feels good, Pecco thinks, the warmth and pressure like a soothing balm over the ache. He had tensed up, when Marc had touched him, but he relaxes into it as Marc rubs little circles down his spine. Then he reaches the small of Pecco’s back, where the skin is flushed pink, raw and irritated. It stings when Marc touches it, little jolts of pain, but then he presses down—

“Ah, fuck,” Pecco hisses, flinching away. “Gentle, please…”

“Sorry,” Marc says, and Pecco looks over at him, needs to know if that was intentional or not. But Marc does look genuinely contrite, brow furrowed in concern as he studies Pecco’s face. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, reaching out to rest his hand on Pecco’s shoulder. “That is— that is not a bruise, is it.”

“No, it’s not,” Pecco says. “It is a burn, from the exhaust— got me through the leathers.” 

Marc makes a small sound, low in his chest, eyes flicking back up to Pecco’s face. Before he can react, Marc is sliding his hand up to the nape of his neck, pulling him down into a hug. 

And he’s caught completely off-balance, again, stands there for a moment before it occurs to him that he should reciprocate. So he winds his arms around Marc’s back, feels him stroke a hand down his spine. Marc is so warm, pressed to him front-to-front like this— what can Pecco do but tuck his head into Marc’s shoulder, melt into him like honey, golden and sweet? 

He doesn’t want the moment to end, but all too soon Marc is stepping away, trailing his hands to rest on Pecco’s arms. “I am glad you are okay,” he says, looking up at Pecco wide-eyed and earnest, and he— he believes him, Pecco realizes, rocking him like a punch to the gut. 

But just as quickly Marc’s face relaxes again, into that easy, winning smile, as he says, “Rest well for Misano, yeah? When I said I wanted to share a garage with the world champion next year, I meant it.”

Pecco can feel his face flushing, shakes his head and says, “Okay. If only so I can beat you next weekend.”

Marc laughs and lets go of Pecco, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t push it,” he says, mock-scolding. He heads for the door— Pecco has half a mind to offer him a drink or something, get him to stay a little longer, but he doesn’t. 

Instead, he just says, “Congratulations, Marc. You were incredible.”

Marc opens the door, looks back and smiles at Pecco one last time. “See you on Thursday,” he says, and then the door is swinging shut behind him. 

The latch clicks, and it’s like a spell has broken, leaving Pecco standing there blinking in confusion. Because— he buries his face in his hands and groans, loud and long— what the fuck possessed him, to make him act like that? Marc must have laid the trap, somehow, and Pecco blundered directly into it. There’s no way he’ll be able to rest— he’ll be up all night thinking about warm hands grazing his shoulder, about deep brown eyes looking up at him with open, genuine concern. 

But it wasn’t genuine, Pecco knows, it wasn’t anything real. Just another mind game— so why, he thinks, does he wish it wasn’t?

[ruewrote]

𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑤𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑦.

PAIRING: ashley brown x gn!reader WARNINGS: miscommunications, no use of y/n GENRE: angsty comfort SONG INSPIRATION: hostage by billie eillish WORD COUNT: 1k REQUESTED: yes

navigation | ask | ashley brown masterlist

you and ashley had always been inseparable. closer than anyone else in your group of friends. 

it was something everyone noticed, even if no one ever said it out loud. 

the kind of connection where sharing a bed at sleepovers didn’t feel weird, where cuddling up during movie nights wasn’t something to giggle about. it was just natural. it was just you and ashley.

you’d call each other every night, voices hushed under blankets as you talked about your days until one of you fell asleep to the other’s voice. even when one of you was sick, you’d keep the line open, content just to listen to each other breathe. 

so, when ashley started pulling back, it was like the ground had shifted under your feet.

it started slowly. she’d message you that she was busy, and you didn’t think much of it at first. everyone gets busy sometimes, right? but the hollow feeling in your chest, that sense of something being off, lingered long after you put your phone down. 

you tried to shake it off, convincing yourself you were just being paranoid. but the messages from ashley came less frequently, and when you did reach out, you’d be left on delivered for hours, sometimes even days.

it stung. more than you wanted to admit. you’d send her something funny, hoping to make her laugh, only to get a short, almost dismissive response, if you got one at all. you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d done something wrong, if maybe she had finally figured out how you truly felt about her. 

you had fallen for her, plain and simple. and now, it felt like she was slipping away, right when you realised just how much you needed her.

the silence between you stretched on for weeks, it became harder to act like everything was fine. every time you saw her post something on instagram or laugh at a joke in the group chat, the longing for her gnawed at you. 

you wanted to reach out, to ask her what was going on, but every time you picked up your phone, your thumb hovering over her name, paralyzed by the fear of what she might say. 

would she even want to hear from you?

it wasn’t until one friday night, when you found yourself alone in your room scrolling through old pictures of the two of you, that you realised you couldn’t take it anymore.

before you could second guess yourself, you called her. the phone rang once, twice, and then a third time before it went to voicemail. you almost ended the call, but something made you stay on the line.

“hey, ash,” you said, trying to keep your voice light even though it cracked at the edges. “um, i don’t really know what’s going on, but… i miss you. and i just want to know if i did something. if i did, i’m sorry. just– call me back, okay?”

you hung up, tossing your phone onto the bed as you covered your face with your hands. you dreaded her reply, but at least you’d finally said something. 

now, all you could do was wait and hope.

hours later, long after the sun had set and your room was cast in shadow, your phone buzzed. 

you scrambled to pick it up, heart leaping into your throat when you saw ashley’s name on the screen.

the message was short. 

can we talk?

your chest tightened, fingers trembling as you typed back. 

yeah, of course.

not even a minute passed before your phone started ringing. you took a deep breath and answered, bracing yourself.

“ashley?” you said, your voice almost a whisper.

there was a long pause on the other end, a shaky exhale. “i’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “i didn’t know how to handle this. i thought… if i pulled away, maybe it would hurt less.”

you frowned, confused. “handle what?”

“you,” she whispered. “us. i–” her voice broke off.  “i saw you and josh getting close, and it hurt. i thought you liked him, and i didn’t want to get in the way. i figured if i backed off, it’d be easier for you… and for me.”

your heart sank, the realisation hitting you. “ashley,” you said, almost breathless. “it’s not like that. it was never like that.”

“but it looked like it,” she murmured, voice wavering. “and i thought… i thought maybe you didn’t feel the same way about me, so i just–” she let out a broken laugh. “i didn’t know what else to do but pull away.”

you could hear the raw pain in her voice, and it tore at you. “ash,” you said softly, “i thought i was losing you. i didn’t understand why you were acting so distant, but i never– god, i never wanted you to think i had feelings for josh. i don’t. i never have. it’s always been you.”

the silence that followed felt heavy, but not unbearable. it was filled with the weight of everything left unsaid between you, but also with something softer, something hopeful.

“always?” she asked, her voice small and fragile.

“always,” you repeated. “i’m in love with you, ashley. i have been for a long time.”

you heard her gasp, a sound caught between a sob and a laugh. “you have no idea how much i wanted to hear you say that,” she whispered. “i love you too. i was so scared i’d ruined everything.”

“you didn’t,” you reassured her, your own tears slipping down your cheeks now. “you couldn’t. not even if you tried.”

there was a shaky, relieved laugh on the other end of the line. “i feel so stupid,” she admitted. “i wasted all this time when i could’ve just told you.”

“it’s okay,” you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips. “we’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

“i’m coming over,” ashley said suddenly, her voice now lighter, happier.

“i’ll leave the door unlocked,” you replied, wiping your tears away as a sense of calm settled over you. for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

hanging up, you realised that the silence between you two wasn’t something to be afraid of anymore. it wasn’t empty; it was filled with the promise of everything you’d been too afraid to say before.

and now, you had all the time in the world to say it.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2024.

[cyanspica]

Please talk abt Thomgelica! I don’t ship them but I’m open to hearing about it & potentially shipping them

Oh boy... now you've done it hahah

In essence, Thomgelica works for me the same. major reasons that Hamgelica does.

Thomas and Alex are, in my view, the definition of same input, different output. Their personalities are pretty similar: both smart, educated, outspoken, sassy, vain, good writers, ambitious, but the way they interact with the world is so different. It probably comes down to their backgrounds, with Alex having to fight much harder to get to the place he is than Thomas and not always having the same respect, so he's the one responding to rumors that Thomas just lets slide right off. And their views are different, too, but if they weren't, I think it's quite easy to imagine them becoming the kind of tight friends/allies that James and Thomas are.

So, moving onto Angelica: the biggest thing she wants is a mind at work, someone who can match her in wit and conversation. That's Alex at first for her---and who matches Alex's mind in turn, later on? Thomas. So if you put her and Thomas in a room together, I think she'll very quickly identify that. And she did, as she says, want to convince him to write a sequel to the Declaration, so there's already that motivation to talk to him, that background knowledge that he's produced brilliant things and that she wants to be part of it, someone who can improve upon what he's already done---or at least persuade him to do it.

I think depending on the setting and time, there's a touch of resentment that drives her towards him, too. Especially if Alex has fucked everything up with her sister. She sacrificed him for her, and then he's going to go fuck up Eliza's whole life? Hell no. So what if Angelica goes and fucks his worst enemy? Alex doesn't deserve anything from her anymore. Even if Alex hasn't blown up her sister's life, I think there's still some appeal in doing something she shouldn't. She can't have Alexander. She doesn't get her mind at work and marries someone who she finds boring, but Thomas is everything she wanted. Why shouldn't she take it later, when she already gave up what she wanted for Eliza? She can trust on Thomas's discretion. So there's some forbidden appeal there too.

Of course, if it's a modern setting, she can and will fuck whoever she wants as she pleases, and Thomas is hot, smart, and accomplished, just like her, so of course she's going to take the opportunity to fuck him.

In turn, I think Thomas is totally charmed by this sophisticated woman who comes up to him, challenges him, and tells him point-blank that he should do better. Thomas, in my opinion, is always striving to be better and never shies from a challenge. And he doesn't get many of those---like her, there's very few people on his level. She's not going to take his shit. She intrigues him, and she's going to stand up into him, but in a less obnoxious way than Alex and with a lot less yelling (can you tell I also ship Jamliton LMAOO??).

And Thomas would absolutely lean into the forbidden angle too and fuck his enemy's sister-in-law/ex/situationship/whatever Angelica happens to be to Alex, because Thomas thinks Alex is an asshole and he likes to spite him. That she happens to be stunningly attractive is just the icing on the cake.

If we also get historical, there's a lot of fun background there to lean into. The two of them actually met in real life and keep up a running correspondence, and Thomas was (understandably) totally charmed by Angelica. He's a fucking simp for her. He writes to her after she leaves France (where they met around 1785) and literally says the sun is shining wrong the day after she leaves France and invites her to Niagara Falls. Angelica sends him a gift and gets one a copy of one of his portraits that she says is a worse copy of the one Thomas's lover Maria Cosway has, but that his likeliness is better preserved in her heart. Totally normal things to say to your platonic friend.

The two of them make a perfect couple---they're both aligned in their goals, intelligence, and interests. In a modern world, they're the ultimate power couple. In a historical one, there's so much forbidden energy to lean into, and all of the same appeal.

Plus Angelica will totally peg him, and Thomas is totally into that.

[gvfgal]

Bound- Chapter Seven

Chapter Six

18+, minors get the hell outta here.

A/n: As promised, here’s chapter seven. Enjoy <3

Warnings. Explicit sexual content, sexual situations between reader and another male character, smoking, drinking, swearing, plenty of angst for you.

Word Count: 4k

April 4th, 1977

Nashville, Tennessee

3 weeks later…

The sun warmed your face as you sat on your front porch babysitting a cup of coffee. The morning was as quiet and as still as you were, some type of metaphorical mirror for you to gaze into.

Jake has done nothing but consume your thoughts since you last saw him, and it was times like this that thoughts of him seemed to trump anything else.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

July 22, 1972

Townsend, Tennessee

You gripped your stomach from your painful laughter, doubled over in Jake’s bed as he put a show on for you.

He was completely naked other than the cowboy hat on his head and the electric guitar slung across his front, obscuring your view of his member. On the record player, Elvis was turned up to maximum volume, and Jake imitated his stage presence in an overly dramatic fashion.

“Jake, you look ridiculous,” you wheezed, clutching your stomach harder.

He did look ridiculous. His hair was disheveled from the round of sex you’d finished minutes ago, and his face was flushed red from the heat outside and inside the bedroom.

But he didn’t have a care in the world. Your laughter was like music to his ears, some symphonic melody fit for dreams.

And your smile.

God, your smile.

He’d do anything to see it surface and light the world, even if that meant making a complete fool of himself.

Once the song was over, Jake sat his guitar back on the stand, and leaped onto the bed with you. He removed the hat from his head and placed it on yours, you sat up and struck a pose.

“How’s it look?”

Jake’s eyes dropped down to your bare chest before he looked back at you with a drunken grin, “I don’t think I’ve ever loved that hat this much until now.”

You fell into a fit of giggles as he attacked you with kisses, then he rolled over on his back, pulling you on top of him to straddle his waist.

He was smirking up at you, “so what do you say, cowgirl? Wanna take a ride?”

You could feel him twitching beneath you, and you raised up to your knees, bringing two fingers to rub slow circles on your clit.

“You’re so corny,” you breathed out before biting your lip. Then slowly, you sank down on him. He gripped your hips with rough fingers, his hold so tight you moaned audibly.

Jake’s head fell back to his pillow with a loud groan of his own, and he let you take him to euphoria.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Hey.”

You jumped so hard that the coffee you were holding spilled onto your lap. Luckily, it had been sitting unattended for so long that it was lukewarm, and you didn’t have to bear the sting.

“Shit,” August gasped, setting his briefcase down and rushing to assist you, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you baby.”

He took the mug from you and sat it on the table, “want me to go get some napkins?”

You stood from your seat and looked at him for the first time that morning. He was dressed for work in one of your favorite suits he owned. It was simple navy, but paired with a crisp white shirt, it made August look like a million bucks.

Just like he did right now.

You smiled up at him, completely disregarding the spilled coffee and your interrupted day dream.

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, “I’ll just go inside and shower.” You walked up to him and threw your hands over his shoulders, careful not to press your front against him, “you look handsome. Headed to work?”

He nodded, and his hands slid around your waist, but he didn’t pull you any closer, “thank you baby, you don’t look so bad yourself.”

You knew he was teasing, your hair was still in the tangled bun you slept in, and your pajamas, of course, were drenched in coffee.

“And you smell good too,” he continued, placing a soft peck on your nose, then your lips.

“Yeah? What do I smell like?”

He took a long inhale into your head, holding it in then blowing it out roughly.

“Coffee. Medium roast, I think.”

You burst into laughter, and this time he did pull you into him, placing a much firmer kiss on your lips, “I love you. I’ll see you later. Hold down the fort for me, okay?”

It was Monday. Monday’s we’re your days off.

He released you and picked up his briefcase, turning to hear your response.

You smiled, giving him a thumbs up, “you got it.”

He grinned back, “that’s my girl.”

You watched as he got in his car and drove out your short driveway.Once he was gone, you went inside to clean yourself off, a feeling of despair clinging onto your back, unwilling to let go.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After you showered and changed, you began cleaning. If you sat still for too long, you knew your mind would wander back to Jake again, and you refused to allow him to take up any more of your time.

There wasn’t much to be cleaned in the house, but you scanned every nook and cranny you possibly could, finding corners that needed to be dusted or picture frames that needed to be straightened.

Once the house was spotless, you decided to go to the store and pick up ingredients to make August’s favorite meal.

Ever since you’d seen Jake at the bar, you’d been rather distant from August. He didn’t seem to notice it much, but you feeling it was enough to scare you.

You wanted to do something to show August that you loved him, and that you were his.

Only his.

The store run was quick, and you were back with plenty of time to start dinner before August returned from work. You grabbed the mail on the way in, and set everything on the counter to wash your hands.

Once your ziti was in the oven, you settled yourself into one of the barstool chairs with a glass of wine. You tapped your foot along to the Patti Smith song on the radio as you sorted through the pile.

Bill.

Spam.

August.

Spam.

Me.

Bill.

Spam.

Catalog.

August.

Spam.

You froze when you came across an envelope that didn’t look like the rest of them. Your first and last name, along with your address was scribbled on the front in a messy, yet familiar, handwriting, but there was no return address on it, so you couldn’t pinpoint who it belonged to.

Placing your wine glass on the counter, you tore eagerly into the envelope, retrieving the first thing your hands landed on, which just so happened to be a postcard.

Montana?

You frowned as you eyed the snow capped mountain printed on the front, but once you flipped it over on the back, your breath hitched in your throat, and you felt your palms growing sweaty.

There was no mistaking the handwriting now.

It was Jake’s.

Your initial thought was to rip the postcard to shreds. You were doing everything you could to erase Jake from your brain, and reading his words surely wouldn’t help. But you also couldn’t ignore the way your heart was beating inside of your chest on double time, pleading for you to see what he had to say.

Your brain wanted nothing to do with him, but your heart was fighting against the current of rationality for any morsel of him it could get its hands on.

Poor troubled heart, you know we shouldn’t do this, you thought.

You swallowed down all of your doubts and read anyways.

Y/n,

I know this letter is probably the last thing you were expecting to receive, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let things stand how we left them at the bar that night. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night, and if I’m being honest, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for the last five years.

I’ve spent every day since the day I left trying to convince myself that what we had was finished, and there was no chance of fixing it. But after seeing you in Nashville, I know that's not true.You know just as well as I do, y/n, that this thing between us isn’t over. The look in your eyes when you saw me, it told me everything your mouth wouldn’t.

I understand that things are different now, I really do. But I’m begging you, if you still believe somewhere in your heart the way I do that there’s still a chance for us, no matter how small that somewhere is,

Come to me.

All my love,

With hands that trembled furiously, you reached into the envelope and took out the rest of its contents.

A show ticket.

A backstage pass.

A plane ticket. Scheduled for a week from Friday.

You dropped the items back onto the counter and picked up the post card again, staring at the last three lines.

Come to me. All my love. Jake.

Jake…

You blinked, and you blinked again. On your third blink, a tear fell from your eyes and onto the card, smearing the ink and distorting his name at the bottom.

The front door unlocking startled you out of your trance, and you scurried to stuff the papers back in the envelope before running to tuck it away in your purse.

“Smells good in here,” August called out as he shut the door behind him, you wiped vigorously at the remainder of your tears. Moments later, he entered the kitchen with his briefcase in hand and his suit jacket thrown across his arm. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone and his hair was tasseled about his head.

But he was still just as handsome as when he left that morning.

You were leaning back on the counter, attempting to appear as casual as possible, though it felt like the room was closing in on you.

“I’m making your favorite,” you smiled.

You felt like breaking down.

He crossed the room over to you, leaning down to plant a slow kiss on your lips, “have I ever told you you’re the best fiancée on the planet?”

There it was, that guilt again. You felt like anything but in that moment.

“Every once in a blue moon.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Dinner was ready twenty minutes later, and you and August sat across from each other at the table as he ate and told you about his hectic day at work.

You’d only managed to take a bite of your garlic bread, and had now resorted to poking around at your ziti. You hadn’t even looked at your salad.

Your mind was steady fixed on the envelope that waited in your purse. It was as if it were beckoning you, drawing you to its contents, to Jake’s words.

Come to me…

Every few minutes your eyes would flicker over to where your bag sat, but August was so engulfed in his meal and ranting that he hadn’t noticed.

“It’s just ridiculous, you know? It’s like these clowns get in the courtroom and forget all about the freedom to assemble? And it’s bullshit because—”

“August will you fuck me?”

His jaw slackened, and he tilted his head to the side.

“Right now?”

You were well aware that you sounded deranged, but you couldn’t have cared less. You needed something, anything, to obliterate Jake from your mind. The longer you sat there, the longer thoughts of him consumed you. Soon enough, you’d be nothing but a smoldering pile of Jake.

You shot up from the table, and August, even in his confusion, followed suit.

“Right now.”

As you marched over to him, August turned to shove his plate and drink back on the table, tipping the glass over in the process, but he’d worry about that later. He caught you just as you crashed into him, your lips meeting in an ugly way. The kiss stayed sloppy as you wrestled to get his pants down, and he took the chance to shove your shirt up your torso to grab a handful of your tits.

Once his pants and underwear were around his knees, he hiked your skirt up and pulled your panties to the side, and with one swift movement, he thrust himself into you, and began fucking you. Hard. Just like you asked him to.

Just like you needed him to.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You were wide awake that night, watching the ceiling fan rotate above you as you thought about the one thing you were trying to forget.

Jake.

August was sound asleep beside you, his back to you as he snored lightly. You always loved the way he snored, it reminded you so much of…

Fuck.

You threw the covers back and slid your house shoes on, deciding to go out back to smoke in attempts to calm your nerves. Quietly as possible, you reached into your purse for your stash, but your fingertips brushed against something else instead.

You glanced back over to August just as he turned over, and once he settled back into his sleep, you grabbed the letter, and your lighter, and those damned cigarettes and tip toed out of the room to the back door. Once settled, you opened the envelope again and retrieved the post card.

You smoked, and you read the letter. Then you read it again. Then you smoked some more, then you read it again.

By the time the cigarette was finished, you had read Jake’s words a dozen times.

And before you went back inside, you read it again.

Come to me…

When you fell asleep that night, it was those three words on repeat until you woke with the sun the next morning.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You carried Jake’s postcard with you everywhere for the next week, and at any opportunity you had, you were fishing it out of your purse, reading it as many times as you could in the time you had.

You also hadn’t slept much in the last week either. Day in and day out you wrestled with the challenge that faced you, and you were completely torn.

On one hand, you knew it was absolutely ridiculous to even entertain the idea of going to see Jake when you were engaged to someone as incredible as August. He was a great guy, an amazing guy, and he came into your life just when you needed him to, pouring himself like concrete into the shattered parts of your heart, making you feel whole again.

Still, it was a different type of whole. It could never measure to the entirety you felt whenever Jake was in your life.

You felt guilty for thinking that way, but you knew it was useless to try and convince yourself otherwise. Some people just impact your life in more meaningful ways than others, and you can do nothing to control it. Every single night for the past seven days, when August was sleeping peacefully beside you, you’d stare at him, trying not to imagine the hurt he would feel if he knew about the silent battle that waged on in you mind. You’d call on all the higher powers you knew by name, begging them for their forgiveness.

But through all of this, Jake’s words were the strongest force compelling your next move.

Come to me…

And you wanted to, despite everything, and more than anything, you wanted to.

And the more you thought about it, the more you started to believe you needed to.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

April 11th, 1977

Nashville, Tennessee

“I’m going to Montana this weekend.”

It was another Monday dinner, and you’d spent your entire time cooking trying to map out how you’d approach the conversation. You had settled on a much more eloquent delivery, but when the time came for you to speak, that was all you could manage to get out.

August was chewing when your words rolled out, and he froze momentarily, cocking a brow at you before returning to his food.

“Really now? What’s happening in Montana?”

“I’m going to visit a friend… from college.”

You hated the way Jake made you lie to someone you loved, and the irony of it was almost laughable. But you’d just add that to this list of things to repent for. Your next sentence was nothing but strategy. You planned it out this way, hoping that it would throw him off your scent, and it would either work perfectly, or completely come back to bite you in the ass.

You were hesitant as you spoke, “you could come too, if you want.”

He smiled at you, “that sound sounds like a lot of fun, babe.”

Oh fuck…

Your heart began hammering in your chest, but before you could go into full panic mode, he spoke up again.

“But I’m slammed with work getting ready for this hearing coming up on Monday. So I’ll have to skip this trip,” he shoved another forkful of food in his mouth, “but maybe next time, yeah?”

You were swimming with relief, but your face reflected disappointment, “yeah, maybe next time.”

And so it was decided, in five short days, you’d be going to Jake.

Just like you wanted to. Just like you needed to. Just like he needed you to.

You had no idea what to expect when you got there, and this was in no way your parting from August, but you also knew you’d live the rest of your life in regret if yo didn’t get on that plane to Montana.

Who knows, you may get there and realize that five years is just too much time to pass between two people, that too much has changed. But maybe, just maybe, the barren fire that was once you and Jake carried enough embers that it could ignite again.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

April 15, 1977

Kalispell, Montana

Jake waited in agony for weeks for this day to arrive, and now that it was here, he wasn’t sure how to feel.

There was no way for him to tell if you would show up or not, but for the sake of his own sanity, he hoped that you did.

He was staring at his reflection in his dressing room mirror, the sounds of their opening act vibrating off the walls around him. He assessed his reflection, and silently cursed at the way his exhaustion was painted all over his face. Hopefully you wouldn’t notice it as much as he did.

That was, if you even came.

There was a knock at the door that made him pause his daydreaming, and he froze as he watched in the mirror as the door slowly began opening, not able to draw breath into his lungs.

When Josh appeared, he slouched back in his seat, realizing this was another one of his routine twin check ins.

Jake surprised everyone when he hadn’t completely gone off of the rails after Nashville, and while most of them saw it as a good thing, it only worried Josh further.

To him, it was a sign of a bigger storm coming, a storm that he believed even Jake wouldn’t be ready for. So as much as he could, Josh was constantly checking in on his other half, hoping that the storm would never come.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, I know you were looking for her,” he apologized as he shut the door behind him, giving him a sheepish smile.

Josh was the only one aware of the letter. He didn’t see it as the best idea, but he knew when it came to you, Jake couldn’t help himself. So no matter what the outcome was after tonight, Josh would be there for him like he always was.

Jake sighed, slouching over onto the vanity, “she probably isn’t coming anyways, Josh.”

“Ahh, come on brother,” Josh shook his head as he approached his twin, patting him on the shoulder, “you can’t think like that. Gotta stay positive.”

Jake’s eyes found his in the mirror, “easy for you to say, you fucking ray of sunshine.”

Josh laughed loudly, snatching up the unattended bottle of tequila from the tabletop and taking a swig, “so they say.”

Someone from the stage crew knocked on the door, “five minutes till curtains.”

Jake stood now, adjusting the sleeves of his suit jacket, and against his better judgment, Josh handed the bottle off to him.

“You ready?”

Jake nodded with his mouth around the bottle.

“Don’t be nervous, alright? If y/n is somewhere out in that crowd tonight, play like you used to play when you were trying to impress her when we were kids.”

Once they were situated, Josh turned to leave, but before he could make his exit, Jake was calling out his name.

“You think there’s really a chance she’s out there?”

He always asked him the most difficult questions. But Josh could see from the look in his eye that he really needed some hope right now, no matter how fleeting.

He smiled, “she’s bound to be out there somewhere.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

When the curtains fell, and the sea of faces in the crowd were visible, Jake began scanning the venue for your face in particular.

It was dumb, really. There was no chance in hell he’d be able to spot you among the hundreds of people in the crowd, but all he needed was a glimpse, just to know that you were there, and that everything he felt that night in Nashville wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

By the middle of the set, there was still no sign of you, and he was beginning to lose hope. And by the time it was over, Jake was ready to go drink himself into a stupor.

You didn’t come… Of course you didn’t, you were engaged.

You were getting fucking married.

As soon as they were no longer visible to the audience, Jake snatched his guitar from his body and shoved it into the hands of one of the stage grips. He felt a little bad about it, but he’d apologize later.

“Jake, wait!” Josh shouted behind him, doing his best to untangle himself from the mess of cords before chasing after him.

“Would you slow the hell down?”

“She didn’t come, Josh,” he responded as he made a b-line towards his dressing room.

To everyone watching, it appeared as if the two were playing a game of tag, and it earned them lots of curious stares from different crew members.

Josh caught up with him, stopping him with an urgent hand on his shoulder.

“Jake, just calm down.”

Jake swiveled around, slapping Josh’s hand away, “you don’t fucking get it, Josh.”

His tone was venomous, and his eyes were burning into his brothers.

Josh stood taller, crossing his arms over his chest, completely unphased by his brother’s threatening posture.

“What don’t I get?”

Jake was huffing now, but just as he was about to lay into him, a voice pulled straight from the heavens interrupted him.

“Jake?”

For a brief moment, his heart stood still in his chest before pounding back to life with a thrum so hard it could’ve knocked him off of his feet.

His eyes found Josh’s again, with a stunned look that read ‘is it really her?’

Josh glanced over his twin’s shoulder at you, then gave him a nod.

Slowly he turned to face you, your tense body appearing at the end of the corridor, purse clutched tightly at your side.

Even more beautiful than the last he saw you.

She came to me…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Chapter Eight

Tag list: @jakesgrapejuice

[behind-the-veil-of-sanity]

I’ve never kept a diary, but I guess if I had, the entry for today would run something like this… September 5, 2024. It is summer again. Did summer actually ever leave? 21C and not a cloud in sight (teeny fib, the late afternoon turned hazy, but still warm). Shorts and T-shirt. Short socks in sneakers :D No response from real estate agent on web query. Wrote direct email re next possible viewing. Yay, a fast response! Viewing planned for today. In two hours time… find bus route and get there on time. Arrived on time, no agent in sight. Wait. Wait. Ah, eff it, I take a stroll around the property to get my bearings and make use of MY TIME! Apple trees, red and blackcurrant bushes. Nice. Pick up Newtonian apple (allowed!). Take a bite. Soft… pick a few red and blacks (don’t tell!). WHERE IS THE EFFIN AGENT??????? call agent. Auto response: can’t talk right now. What? Text agent: where are you, I’m here!!!! Out of town? Misunderstanding? Oh. Well yeah you didn’t spell that word right did you, but I also did not read that word properly. Next week you say. Okay. Fuck. (sneaks off the property hoping no one saw me). Now what? Stroll down the high street. Check out the local shops and dining places. Quaint, my final verdict of this village. Check bus time table, last bus an hour away. Hungry. Take aim at the local pizza place. 45 minutes later I roll out of the pizza place, one calzone and a beer lining my stomach. Buy orange fizz for desert (why? There wasn’t any coke!). Take last bus back home. Same driver as before. He recognised me… Get off bus, walk for 30 mins to get home, plus stopping off at the local grocery store. Note to self: always bring two bags for groceries. One bag makes life just so much harder. Arrived home. Sweating like a roasting pig. Huffing. Puffing. Watch warns me my pulse is too high for a sedentary position. Fuck #2. Feel stuffed two hours after pizza. Too much mozzarella I reckon. Also, too little tomato sauce. TV time. Watch TV. Time passes. The sun sets. Nice. Takes photo and posts to tumblr. TV. TV. Bang. Darkness. Power gone. Look out the window and realise the whole neighbourhood is dark. Get candles. Light candles. Get phone. Wait for cell service to be restored. Check power company website. Planned work? Power restored in 6 hours! The text to mum contains too many expletives to mention, but how the fuck can EON (electricity company) be allowed to run planned maintenance without telling their customers. Getting annoyed. Write complaint email to EON using even more colourful language. Press send. Feel no remorse. Fuck. (#3) I was supposed to enlist in the next uni course today. Today. The last day. But the power is off… I can access the computer with all the docs. Fuck (#3 still echoing in my head). Get phone out. 30% battery left. Might just work… Log on to Uni. Select course. Enlist. Proceed. Sorry? What? The online system can’t determine how much I’m supposed to pay cuz I’ve moved… BUT I DONT NEED TO PAY TODAY!!!!!! Contact Uni using web form. Write long explanations but try to ignore the frustration from the power fucking company idiot still bouncing in my head. Press send. Get automated reply immediately. Okay, that seemed to have gone to the wrong department. Try again. Contact student support. Sigh. Repeat the same info, adding a few extras and further queries. Press send. Fuck it. Walk to fridge. Open door. Get beer. Drink beer. Sigh. Gawd, I just feel the urge to whinge, into the void where no one can hear me. Huh, I know — Tumblr.

[cardcaptorsakura96]

Taxes, Taxes, Taxes- Chapter 7

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Kara Danvers, Clark Kent, Samantha Arias, Lena Luthor, Lillian Luthor

Summary: What if superheroes had to pay a property damage tax every time they had a fight in the city?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Kara looked up and smiled. Above her was Rao’s light shining down on her. She was surrounded by rolling green hills with a bubbling river nearby. She lay down with her eyes closed in the warm grass feeling the light tips against her fingers. She smiled as the heat from the red sun warmed her face. She felt a gentle hand nudged her. She looked up and saw her mom sitting next to her. She was wearing her blue ceremonial outfit for the House of El, with their family motto printed boldly in the center of her chest. Her long, curly brown hair hugged her face as she stared at Kara with so much love and warmth.

Kara smiled and said, “You’re here.”

Her mother chuckled and said, “Where else would I be?”

“I thought that you would be with Dad and the other scientists discussing the tremors around the city.”

“I think I had enough time listening to pompous men thinking that they know everything.”

“Even dad?” smirked Kara. 

Her mother chuckled and lightly slapped Kara’s arm.

“You know your dad is the exception. Your father is the only one other than me of course with common sense in that group.”

“Maybe, if you guys collected more data, you could…”

Her mother shook her head and said, “The tremors aren’t my main concern right now. I am more concerned about you.”

Kara frowned and asked, “Why?”

Her mother looked back out at the grassy hill and sighed. 

“I often worried that we set you up with an impossible task.”

Kara sat up, grabbed her mom’s hand in hers, and said, “You never did such a thing.”

Her mom gave her a forced smile and said, “But, we did. We sent you off into the unknown to watch over Kal El. I was 28 when I had you and felt overwhelmed. You were only 22 with no support…”

Kara hugged her mom and said, “You don’t have to worry. I arrived much later than Kal. He is an adult now.”

Kara looked down, sighed, and said, “He obviously doesn’t need me around. He just thinks I am a nuisance.”

Her mother shook her head and said, “You are no such thing. You are one of the bravest people that I know. You are always the first to volunteer to go into situations where I have seen grown men falter. Did someone forget that they were the youngest cadet ever to become a corporal?”

Kara chuckled and said, “I remembered the baffled look on Major Sans’ face. He told me I would fail out my first year.”

“And you proved him wrong.”

Kara looked at her mom wistfully and said, “I wish I had a chance to be in my new position. Back then I had a purpose.”

“Purpose is ever evolving.”

Kara frowned and asked, “What do you mean?”

“You still have the same purpose of protecting Kal El. It is just the method of what you have to do has changed.”

Kara rolled her eyes and said, “That jackass could care less what I would think. Besides, he is doing fine on his own.”

“Are you so sure about that?” asked her mother. 

Kara frowned and tried to look up at her mother. However, everything had turned blurry. The red sunlight had intensified around her making it harder to see.

Kara placed her hand over her face and winced.

“Mom, I don’t understand.”

She heard her mother’s voice but she felt it was drifting. As the light became brighter and brighter, her mother said, “Remember the first principle of your training as a cadet. Kal El’s life depends on it.”

Kara jolted up breathing heavily. She looked around and noticed that she was sitting in a bed that had a sunlamp right above her. 

No wonder why I felt like there was sunlight on me.

She looked around more at her new environment and was startled. She was in a cave. A very well-lit cave. There were bats flying overhead. 

I guess that answers where I am at. 

She heard rumors before about Batman's supposed lair. She thought it was all myths about hiding in caves with bats especially considering how high-tech his weapons were. She shook her head. 

Looks like there was some truth to the rumors.

She looked to her left and was startled. There was a man unconscious in a bed a couple of feet from her. She didn’t recognize him at all. He had brown hair and peach-colored skin and wearing a white shirt. He appeared to be similar in age to her. 

Wonder if he is one of the Robins or even Nightwing. 

She tried to get up but winced. It felt like her body had been hit by a ton of bricks. She looked down at herself and was startled. She wasn’t in her Supergirl outfit anymore but in a nightgown.

“Hopefully my suit wasn’t destroyed,” muttered Kara.

She groaned again as she slowly made a second attempt to get out of bed. Once she got on her feet, she had to steady herself for several minutes. She looked over again at the unconscious man. He seemed to be the only person near and she wasn’t sure if she could make it around to explore. 

Hopefully, he is up for questions about this place.

Read the rest on AO3

[pas-de-duex]

The Black Swan Ch. 10

Remus flew away.

He flew and he flew and he flew until he was far away from the lake. Far away from the small town.

Far, far away from Logan.

He landed on Roman’s balcony. He gently tapped on the doors, and his twin brother quickly pulled them open.

“Remus, are you alright?”

Remus shook his head. He waddled into Roman’s room then flew to the top of his bookshelf.

“Remus, what’s wrong?”

Remus did nothing. He simply curled into himself, head into his wings, and fell asleep.

He woke up to shots of pain.

He quickly flew off of Roman’s bookshelf and landed on the ground as he completed his transformation. He sat on the ottoman at the foot of Roman’s bed and placed his head in his hands.

He didn’t know why he came here.

He rarely ever visited the castle these days. It was too much, everyone mourn over him like he was dead. They treated him like he was a fragile child, and he couldn’t prove them wrong.

He had lied to them for so long.

He had spent days, no, weeks in the enchanted forest after Rothbart’s curse. He had been scared. So, so scared of what everyone back at the palace would think of him.

He had just learned how to fly.

Rothbart had returned with his son, Odile.

“Daddy! That Spider would look gorgeous attached to my silver chain! Oh get it for me daddy, get it for me!”

The large owl man had swooped up the young Virgil into his talons.

“No!”

Janus had already taken his role as Remus and Virgil’s protector. As the only two children in the forest, he had felt it was his responsibility to care for them. The snake tried to slither after them, but as quick as he was, he was no match for Rothbart’s large wingspan, which allowed him to travel far.

Remus hadn’t even noticed until he was in the air. He had been running after them, and was waving his wings around wildly. It must have been enough to get him into the air, because the next thing he knew, he was right on Rothbart’s tail.

“Remussss! Be careful!”

He heard Janus’s shout from below. But he persisted on. He rammed himself into Rothbart, causing him to release the young spider.

“Remus! Help!”

Virgil began to fall.

Remus aimed downwards. He felt the pain start as the sun began to set, but he remained determined. He flew faster, harder. Harder. Faster. Faster. Harder. Until he was finally underneath Virgil. He felt Virgil’s small spider body land on his back.

And then the pain grew.

Remus wasn’t used to it yet. His swan cries turned into human screams as he and a now human Virgil plummeted to the ground.

He was thankful he caught Virgil. He was less thankful that they both landed on a large pile of rocks.

“Remus, Remus are you ok?”

Remus felt himself slipping into unconsciousness as Virgil shook him.

“Remus!”

The next thing he knew he was being lifted off of the ground.

“Your majesty! I’ve found him!”

It was Wolfgang, Patton’s father. He was the Prince’s tutor, and had volunteered to join the search after Patton had been partially responsible for Remus’s disappearance, as Roman later told him.

He woke up a few hours later, back in his room in their Eastern Castle.

“Remus,” his father had enveloped him in a large hug, the first one he ever remembered his father giving him.

Remus should’ve been happy. His father missed him. Roman missed him. Even Patton missed him.

But instead he was terrified.

What would happen when they found out? That Remus spent the entire day as a swan, returning to his human form only in the dark of the night?

“Remus, can you tell us what happened?”

Remus looked out the window, and saw the rising sun. He didn’t have much time.

He forced himself to cough.

“I… I’m sorry father, I, I feel so weak,”

His father nodded.

“Of course, son. Why don’t you get some rest? Well, we’ll leave you alone for now.”

“Thank you, father.”

The moment everyone left the room was the moment he began to transform again. He stifled his screams in one of his swan-feathered pillows. He almost laughed when he realized.

When his transformation was complete, he threw the pillows on the ground. In the evening, he would request new ones. Ones without feathers inside.

From the look his father had given him, he knew his wish would be granted.

He paced the room the entire day. He had to think of something that he could tell them. Not only about what had happened in the woods, but something that would explain his new constant absences from their lives.

He had decided to stick with the sickness route. After a few days of feigning illness during the day, only re-emerging at night, and a very large bribe, a doctor officially diagnosed Remus with an allergy to the sun.

“How, how is that possible? He has never had anything like that his entire life!”

The doctor told his father that his “extreme sun exposure” from his time in the woods had most likely triggered it. Remus was to be confined to the Eastern Castle until he was strong enough to return to the sunny Northern Castle permanently.

A day Remus knew would never come.

He bribed the doctor to come to the Eastern Castle every few months to say he is still unable to go home.

Of course, Remus goes to the Northern Castle for important events like Roman and his father’s birthdays, royal balls, and big feasts his father occasionally throws.

The rest of the time he’s in the enchanted forest, far away from society.

So for Remus to show up on Roman’s balcony unexpectedly,

Well, Roman must’ve known something was seriously wrong.

[natlacentral]

‘Avatar: The Last Airbender’: Kid dentures, prison buff Iroh and more during PaleyFest

The animated fantasy action series Avatar: The Last Airbender has a passionate fanbase that can be very protective of the franchise. After a failed movie adaptation over a decade ago, some approached the most recent live-action television show with skepticism. However, this version was better received. At PaleyFest 2024, the cast and creatives came together to discuss the first season and their expectations for the future. 

Showrunner Albert Kim, executive producer and director Jabbar Raisani, and actors Gordon Cormier, Kiawentiio, Ian Ousley, Dallas Liu, Paul Sun-Hyung Lee, Arden Cho, and Elizabeth You all took to the stage.

During the panel portion of the evening’s events, the audience heard some behind the scenes stories during filming. For example, Kim did not realize how young his lead actor was until he received a call from the production office about an accident on set. There was no fight or stunt accident, but Cormier did lose one of his baby teeth. A week later he lost another. Kim hired a denturist on staff to create dentures for the star. Imagine, a twelve-year-old with dentures.

Lee was the oldest cast member on stage, and he reflected on how when he was growing up, he never saw himself in the shows he watched on television. He felt blessed to be part of Avatar: The Last Airbender with such a diverse cast. He was especially excited to work with Daniel Dae Kim, who plays Fire Lord Ozai, and Ken Leung, who plays Commander Zhao. Lee loved Leung’s character on Lost so much, that he named his son Miles.

Near the end of the discussion, the actors were asked what they were excited to explore about their characters in seasons two and three. 

Kiawentiio touched upon how Katara has gained a new confidence over the course of the first season earlier in the night. She would like to see more of that confidence, and just more of the main trio. Ousley spoke how Sokka experienced his first catastrophic emotional situation with a love interest in the season one finale. Now there is a lot that he’s going to have to work through emotionally.

One of the most engaging pairs in Avatar: The Last Airbender is the uncle and nephew duo of Prince Zuko and Iroh. Liu is anxious for fans to see more their relationship.

“You get to really see how close Uncle Iroh and Zuko really are compared to the animated series. Carrying that over to the future seasons of our show, if you’ve watched the original, you know how big some of those moments are in the ending and at the beginning of season three,” Liu said.  “I’m really stoked for Uncle Iroh and Zuko’s moments in those seasons because I think they’ll hit that much harder because of what we built in season one.”

Lee felt that his TV nephew stole his original answer. He then jokingly responded with Prison Buff Iroh to be aided with the use of CGI. 

Yu is looking forward to playing a bigger role in Avatar: The Last Airbender. “Towards the end of season one, I think Azulah gains her freedom from the Fire Nation when she’s able to reign terror on the rest of the world.” With that new sense of freedom, Yu is hoping to finally be able to interact more with the other characters.  

For Gordon, his thoughts came back to his character’s flying bison. He shared, “In episode one we get to see Aang’s relationship  with Appah a little bit, and if we did get to dive into that more in season two and three, that would be so amazing. That would be awesomeness.”

The final words of the night came from Kim. He will be stepping away as showrunner of Avatar: The Last Airbender and Raisani and Christine Boylan will be filling in moving forward. But fans don’t need to worry about the change in creative leadership. 

“Both of them were so involved in the first season. They were so vital in making the season what it was so I have utter confidence in what they are going to do,” Kim told the audience. “I know that Christine, who is here today with a bunch of our writers who are all here, they are hard at work on the scripts for season two. I’m looking forward to seeing what they do as much as anyone. I’m very very confident and happy of the hands the show is in and where it’s going to go.”

Check out the rest of the programming schedule of PaleyFest 2024.

[aeoki]

Tri-Lights - Wheel of Fortune: Chapter 4

Location: Yumenosaki Tennis Court Characters: Sora, Natsume, Tsumugi & Madara

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< Thirty minutes later. >

Madara: ♪~♪~

Alright, here comes the next serve. Take that…!

Tsumugi: ………!

Natsume: A service aCE…!

Tsumugi: We couldn’t move an inch. As expected of Mikejima-kun – his athletic abilities are off the charts.

Natsume: Is that what you should be saying right nOW? His serves are so strong we haven’t even gotten one point off him, you knOW?

I think the sun will set before we can rescue Sora at this poiNT. You were the one who accepted the battLE, so you need to put more back into iT.

Tsumugi: I–I know… But I didn’t think Mikejima-kun was this strong. I just thought he was just slightly good at sports.

I’ve seen Mikejima-kun help out a lot of units, but who would have thought he’d be this good at tennis?

Natsume: That’s an overly optimistic outloOK… He’s skilled enough to help other units so it wouldn’t be strange to think that he’d be good at tennis too, rigHT?

Madara: Hahaha! Is this a fallout?

You need to cooperate with each other when you’re playing doubles. Surely, you don’t think you can win with just fighting spirit alone?

Natsume: Fighting instinct and cooperation or whatevER… you’re talking about too many different thinGS…!

Madara: Hehehe. You’ve gotten more fired up, Natsume-san ��� You’re heading in the right direction ♪

On the other hand, Tsumugi-san, you’re still so calm. Maybe I should say you’re cautious instead.

You two don’t look like you’re trying to win – Are you really okay with how things are?

Tsumugi: T–That’s what we’re trying to do…

But I’m not good at showing vigour.

It feels like you’re playing tennis with us out of goodwill, so I can’t feel a sense of urgency.

Madara: Hmm, goodwill, huh… You trust me too much, Tsumugi-san.

Sora-san, could you get Tsumugi-san motivated?

Sora: Well, Sora does want Master and Senpai to work a bit harder~

So Sora wants to see you two work together to beat “Mr Giant”!

Otherwise, Sora would think that’s all our relationship amounted to and would feel sad.

Master, Senpai – Sora believes that you can make up for what you’re lacking in skill by working together!

Madara: The outcome of this tennis game can even affect the unit relationship, huh. Yup, that’s a good way to motivate someone ♪

It’s true “Switch” can’t be called “Switch” if Sora-san isn’t there.

But Sora-san would be put in a tough spot if his two seniors can’t work together.

Tsumugi: I–I’m sorry. Sora-kun, you must be feeling anxious because the game is way too one-sided, right?

Can we take a small break? I’ll discuss things with Natsume-kun and see what we can do.

It’s time to strategise… You’re okay with that too, right, Natsume-kun?

Natsume: Of courSE. We have our pride as weLL.

This may be a battle that’s out of our league but we have to aim for victory now that we’ve accepted iT.

Tsumugi: Thank you. I’m an amateur in all this but this is what I suggest.

First, we should keep the same formation with me in the back and…

Sora: HaHa~♪ Their “colours” have gotten more fired up ♪ I think you might have a hard time, “Mr Giant”~

Madara: Yeah. Tennis is a sport where a larger number of players is more advantageous, after all.

Hehe. It seems things have finally kicked into gear. Even someone like me without synesthesia can tell that their will to fight is starting to show.

Is this what you wanted, Sora-san? Is this closer to the image you had of a sporty “Switch”?

Sora: Yes. This is fine. Probably.

Both Master and Senpai are far too kind-hearted, so Sora is certain that “that’s” the part missing from the sporty “Switch”~

Sora doesn’t know about the past but Sora thinks the past Master and Senpai had gotten tired from all the fighting.

They didn’t want anyone to be hurt anymore, so they became “magicians – witches” who would save unhappy people. That’s what Sora thinks when Sora looks at the current Master.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[itsjustdg]

First Sentence Game

Tagged by @dragonnan

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

Houndsight Is 20/20 (Hudson & Rex) Charlie sighed as he sat back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes, which were starting to ache after staring at a computer screen for so long, and took a moment to gather his thoughts. Nearby, Rex whined. Charlie moved his left hand to see the German Shepherd watching him from where the dog was lounging on his favorite window bench. Rex's dark eyes watched Charlie in concern, his head tilted to the side as if to ask what was wrong.

Call Off the Dogs (Hudson & Rex) It was a beautiful day in St. John's. The sun was shining, the sky was punctuated by a few fluffy clouds, and there was that fresh feeling in the air the world gets after a good rain. But the three men who were carefully ascending a large hill near the coast were less interested in the scenery surrounding them and more intent on the murderer they were after. Charlie flexed his hand where it rested on the grip of his holstered gun and looked around carefully. The open field around him spanned a few dozen yards before it ended at a treeline, where there was a very real chance the dense foliage hid something sinister.

Note to Self: Don't Get Kidnapped (Hudson & Rex) "Note to self," Charlie thought wryly, "don't get kidnapped." Of course, that was easy in theory. It was a lot harder in practice, especially when he was actively in the back of a van headed to who-knew-where. And he was alone, which made things infinitely worse. He couldn't count on Rex leaping out on their captors the minute one of them opened the door.

At the End of His Rope (Hudson & Rex) The clatter of a door being thrown open echoed through the musty old warehouse. "Look who I found nosing around outside!" Charlie winced in pain as his arm was wrenched upward. The tall criminal who'd grabbed him had at least six inches on the detective, and the man was using every one of those to his advantage as he dragged Charlie into the dim warehouse.

Hair’s Breadth from Death (Hudson & Rex) Feet pounded the gravel as Charlie raced after the retreating figure of the fleeing murderer. Rex was nowhere to be seen, but Charlie knew the shepherd would join him before long. They'd set out to track down the man they suspected of killing the victim in their current case, and Rex had run off after something he'd heard in the underbrush. Shortly after, Charlie had spotted Dunn, who had fled the moment he realized he'd been seen. Moments later, Dunn made a split decision and veered off the trail, cutting through the long grass next to it.

Nowhere to Run (Hudson & Rex) The smirk on the criminal's face was downright sadistic as he waved the large knife in Charlie's direction. "Nowhere to run now, eh, Detective?" From the room next to them, Charlie could hear Rex's frantic barking. He let out a growl of frustration as he turned his attention back to the man in front of him. "You think you're going to get away with this, Thompson?" he demanded, not bothering to temper the anger brewing in his voice. "Seems to me I already have," Thompson grinned. "Now get your hands back up!"

A Little Out of the Ordinary (Hudson & Rex) Charlie had seemed fine while they wrapped up the case, so no one thought there might be something wrong. He'd waved off any concern for his well-being, focused on wrapping up the case and getting the criminals put behind bars after his friends had pulled him out of that pine box in the dirt. But now he was home after an incredibly long ordeal, finally winding down from the adrenaline of everything that had happened, and his system finally had time to acknowledge just how much it had been through. "And that's how…" Jesse trailed off. "Charlie, you wanna sit down?"

Not All Superheroes Wear Capes (Chicago Fire x The Incredibles) A dull, distant roaring mixed with the sound of muffled voices filled Gallo's ears as he struggled to regain his bearings. What happened? He felt like there was something important that he should be aware of, but he was having trouble getting his thoughts to catch up to everything else. The shouts echoing around him finally separated enough for him to understand what was being said.

Dance With the Devil (Magnum PI) It was another bright, sunny afternoon in Honolulu. A rainstorm had passed through earlier in the day, but now the clouds had cleared. The only evidence of the bad weather was the rainbow painted across the blue sky. Anyone driving on one particular residential street that afternoon with their windows down would have been treated to good-natured, arguing voices coming from the Ferrari cruising down the road with its top down. The man behind the wheel was engaged in a spirited conversation with the woman in the passenger seat. "I'm telling you," the dark-haired driver was saying as he braked for a stop sign, "it's just simple math."

Psychics Are People, Two (Psych) Hello, everyone! It's me! I know what you're thinking: this website looks a whole lot like my other one. I assure you, however, that it is completely different. All the pictures on here are legitimately taken; I didn't hide behind any bushes. I also deleted the fanfic section. You might be asking yourself, 'Didn't you get put in prison two years ago?' or 'Did you ever get Detective Lassiter's blood out of your favorite dress?' or, my personal favorite, 'How did your therapy go?'

Tagging with absolutely no pressure as always: @disappearinginq, @amandagaelic, @cajun-fangirl, @vix-has-arrived, and anyone else who wants to play!

[justmybookthots]

This Time It's Real

5/5 stars

I AM SCREAMING. I AM SCREAMINGGGGGG.

You know, I’ve always thought the fourteen-year-old romantic I used to be was dead? But maybe… it isn’t?? How is it that this cute little YA made me feel a gazillion more things than most adult romances? 

Ann Liang, I love you so much. I’m officially a hardcore fan now after I read If You Could See The Sun (which I reviewed) and this book. And there’s another book of hers coming next year (I weep! I WEEP! Why are all the books I’m looking forward to only out next year?) which I will DEFINITELY be reading. I am so excited. 

This book. This book. I am incoherent. I am squealing. And this is coming from a person who hates the fake dating trope, and YET. There is definitely an exception to every rule. Maybe it’s because Ann Liang writes her stories in Beijing, with a Chinese cast and setting (I love the personal rep). Or maybe it’s because Caz, AKA the male lead, is soooooo cute. Oh my gosh. CAZ.

Okay. Okay. Let me get my thoughts together before I spiral. The premise is simple: two Chinese high-schoolers, one an aspiring writer, the other a teenage heartthrob actor, fake-dating. I have to say that Eliza's reasons for needing to fake-date sound very valid, but I wasn't convinced by Caz's. All he gets out of it is… Eliza writing his college applications? There's also another reason—him cleaning up his image because of this "scandal"... which never gets touched upon again later in the story, so I don't count that.  

But whatever. I didn't dwell too much on it, because there are so many things I loved:

Caz trying to make Eliza jealous (LMAO) by going into lurid detail about his kiss scene with a girl and getting disappointed when she doesn't seem to care

Caz getting worked up over a pimple and not going to school

Caz being a vain little shit, period

Caz telling Eliza that he wanted her (for real, and not pretend), point-blank. T_T

Caz helping Eliza find her friendship bracelet 

Eliza trying to jog and getting outrun by an old man

Eliza and her PowerPoint Presentation.

Eliza and Zoe. PLATONIC BREAKUPS ARE HARD, IN A WAY HARDER THAN FALLING OUT WITH CAZ. THIS PARAGRAPH GOT ME:

What Eliza's dad said about girls in romance dramas because it is SO TRUE (for the non-Chinese folk out there, 'jiayou' means to 'keep fighting/going'):

My main complaint about this book is really how it ended. I think that Ann Liang ends her books in a really abrupt way, to the point where I don’t feel I got enough closure. The story just concluded about a chapter after Eliza agreed to be with Caz for real, and then… the end. Listen, I think that the build-up is always the highlight of a romance, but I still would have liked for a bit more closure. At least let me see them on one real, proper date before ending the book! 

(Since I'm on the topic of complaints—this one isn't from me, but from some reviewers: they say that Caz isn’t very different from Henry from If You Could See The Sun but I don’t agree? Henry isn’t anywhere as vain as Caz, and he is definitely academically more brilliant than Caz, lol. I thought they were notably different, and I was quite surprised by it. I actually found Caz somewhat more immature... but I adored him just as much as Henry.)

One final mini-complaint of mine before I wrap up this entry: I don’t think that Eliza’s hangup about being with Caz is ever truly addressed. She frets that, yes, Caz may love her now, but they’ll grow apart like she did with Zoe because she’s always on the road (and he is, too). In the end, she changes her thinking to: yeah, maybe I was just afraid all along that he really never did love me but now I’m sure he does. To me, that’s two completely different concerns, and the first still isn’t solved. 

But of course, this is just me nitpicking, and I can shut one eye about it because the rest of the book was just so, so lovely. If I were to nitpick further, I'd say boys like Caz really do not exist (re: young heartthrobs who are so swoony both inside and outside) but the fiction is fictioning, and that's how I LIKE IT.

And you best believe I will be eyeing Ann Liang’s next book when it’s out. In the meantime, I just need to make sure I make it till 2024. 

- 19 Aug 2023

[finelinevogue]

I just know these would gossip so much between the two

Like they are inside the pool observing everyone and commenting on every drama and interactions and giggling “those truly hate each other” “davide has crazy eyes when you look him fro the front” oh my good look x person is pulling y for a chat!” Etc

golden-hoax: i can see li!harry & y/n going in the pool more than the others because they obviously have to take their mics off for that and they have some alone time cause most of the time no one is in there. and i bet you they'd try to do the dirty dancing lift in the pool🫶

they are such the gossips yessssss!

“I feel like Dami and Indiyah have more of a connection than Dami and Amber. Or even Indiyah and Ikenna.”

You said, whilst you rested your head on your arms on the side of the pool. Harry was floating beside you, but that boy could not lay still for England so he wasn’t going to get comfortable beside you.

It was a tactic being in the pool whilst you and Harry had chats, because you couldn’t wear your microphones and therefore nothing could be picked up by the producers.

It was an escape.

“You think?” Harry questioned.

“For sure. I hope they figure it out and don’t just settle.” You pouted.

“It’s not really for us to interfere though, I guess.”

You and Harry had both decided that getting involved in between a couple was just wrong and wasn’t any of your business. It made choosing sides more difficult too.

“No you’re right.”

“Oi, Davide is looking at you again.” Harry nudged you carefully, not making it too obvious.

“Oh for fuck sake.” You giggled. “I’m flattered, but no thanks.”

Harry came up behind you in the pool and you could tell it was his subconscious way of marking his own territory. Instead of putting his hands around your waist, he groped them on your ass instead.

“Too right it’s a no. This is mine.” Harry squeezed your ass again, making you kick up a leg, as fast as the water would let you, to kick him in the balls playfully.

“You’re so, egh, sometimes, you know?”

“Don’t care. Still mine at the end of the day.”

He kept his hands on your ass as he rested his chin on your shoulders, staring down Davide as you both kept on talking about nothing.

“Can we try something?” He would ask a while later.

“Sure.”

“Let’s do the Dirty Dancing lift.” He smirked like a teenage boy being told he’d just been bought a new lego set.

“It will go very wrong.” You laughed whilst shaking your head in protest.

“It won’t. I promise. I’ve got you.”

“Har…”

“Trust me, please.”

You rolled your eyes, but allowed him the pleasure of you accepting. Anything to make him happy. He threw his sunglasses to the side and you did the same with yours.

He made sure he was standing with the sun facing his face so you didn’t have to squint. It would make it like him more had he not convinced you to fly in the air above him.

“You ready?” He asked, bracing his legs and shaking off his arms.

“Of course not, you idiot.”

“Great.” He replied, still smiling. “Now just run and jump before you get to me.”

“I can’t run in water, H.” You sighed.

“Um, okay. Well walk really slowly and we’ll just pretend we’re in 2x speed.”

You smiled at his ridiculousness, before wading over to him. As you approached him his smile got wider and wider, making grabby hands as he awaited you.

Once you got close enough you jumped and his hands went to rest on your waist. It must’ve been harder than he expected because to lift you up out of the water, he had to squat underwater. It made you laugh, mainly because his hands were slightly tickling you but also because his face was flat over his face now.

It worked though.

You were in the air like Baby.

Harry was Patrick Swayze too.

Until his arms went weak and he threw you over his head and you dived head first into the water. After you came to the surface Harry was right there to make sure you were okay.

“How was it?”

“Well I hope you’re happy, because we’re not doing it again.” You twisted your nose to free it of water.

“I had y’tits in my face, of course I was happy.” He winked and you just shook your head at him in disgust.

“You’re so gross.” You tutted.

“And I got to relive a classic 80s romcom moment with a girl I really like, so.” He blushed.

You swam over to him and wrapped your hands around his neck softly, feeling his arms scoop around your legs to hold you up securely against him.

“That’s more like it.” You smiled and kissed him softly.

[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!!

[helpimhyperfixating]

Merman Jotaro living in Y/N's house. He stays in either the tub or in the backyard pool, or in an inflatable kiddie pool in the living room where's he's mesmerized by the TV

Stay - Mer! Jotaro x Reader

Word Count: 3589

Never in a million years did you expect your life to take a turn like this. You met and befriended a Merman a few months ago. He demanded that you return to him regularly - which you did. All in all, it was already crazy to think about. But then fall came and going to the beach was starting to get colder and colder. The merman - Jotaro - he didn’t seem fazed by the chill, you however, didn’t much like the cold water and breeze that accompanied visiting your local sea shark.

So, you explained that it was getting a bit cold for you to come this often and stay so long, saying you would come a little less but when spring and summer came around, you would gladly come every other day maybe even every day again.

Little did you know, a certain merman was not happy with that.

So here you now stood, in your garage, with a fucking massive Mer in the back of your pickup truck.

“Jotaro what the fuck!?” You nearly screamed when you saw him casually sitting in the back.

“Don’t be noisy.” Jotaro snarled back and you slapped his tail that was within your reach.

“I’ll be as noisy as I want! What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Good grief, isn’t it obvious?” He questioned and you splayed your arms out in disbelief, clearly stating that- no it wasn’t!

This ticked him off a little cause, were you really that dumb? Could you not see Jotaro had been trying to court you for weeks? And then you had the gal to say you were going to leave him and then get mad when he followed?! The fucking nerve.

When you didn’t get an answer and only had a silent death stare directed at you (as if that was supposed to explain things) you sighed loudly.

“Okay. Guess this is a thing now. You’re looking dry, so we need to get you in some water, come on.” Walking over to the back of your pick up, you unhooked the latches and opened the back, allowing for a flat surface for Jotaro to slip off.

After getting off with a loud smack, Jotaro started tiger crawling into your house. Looking around curiously as to all the new things he was seeing. So this is where you lived whenever you went away from him?

“C’mon keep going, you have to get up the stairs.” You spoke from behind him and he looked back at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Stairs?”

“Yeah. That, right there.” You pointed at the staircase leading to your second floor that sat to the right. “I’ve got to get you into the bath, mister.”

“Bath? You said you had a pool.” Jotaro spoke in confusion but you sighed.

“Did you really figure out that you could- oh my god.” You dragged a hand over your face and muttered to yourself ‘smart fucking fish’ before clearing your throat. “Any other day, yes. Today? No. It’s the last good and sunny day today so people are outside. It’s been forecasted to rain and get colder soon so people are outside en masse to enjoy the last bit of sun and I don’t want them to see you.”

“Of course.” Jotaro grumbled, a faint annoyed growl leaving him as he rested his chin on his arms. He simply sat like that for a few seconds, looking around before he remarked, “Your floor is dirty.”

At that you made an offended noise. “Excuse me, I clean my floors very well, thank you very much. I just didn’t expect a giant fucking merman to act as a duster and health inspection in one today.”

At that he huffed out a chuckle that made you crack a bit as well before you twice lightly slapped his tail, to both get his attention and urge him to go. “You’re really looking dry, let’s get you up those stairs.”

Easier said than done.

Jotaro was about a third of the way up the stairs now, but crawling up when you have a massive and heavy tail behind yourself that you cannot use to help yourself, is quite difficult.

Each move of his arm was met with an annoyed or angry grumble about having to do this. Why couldn’t your neighbours just be indoors then? Why did he have to do all bloody this? (Not once did the thought of going back to the sea cross his mind though.) as he was yet again lifting his arm to place it on the next step higher, his eyes suddenly widened in shock when he felt two hands be put on his tail. With a light pink blush on his face he looked backwards, seeing you with closed eyes and straining to lift his tail to try and help him.

“Jesus, why is this so heavy.” You spoke out through grunts, still barely managing to lift it.

“It’s twice your size, why do you think?” Jotaro answered with his usual gruff tone, but the redness of his cheeks flared out all the way to his ears when you wrapped your arms around it, pressing your chest to the back of it as you tried to lift it once more. “I-I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.” Jotaro cleared his throat before turning his head forward again to get the image of you holding his tail out of his head.

Once he found himself calmed down enough, he continued his slow trek upwards.

- - - -

It took a bit, but Jotaro was in your tub. And by god did he not fit. Even with folding his tail, half of it was still hanging out.

“I- we’ll work on it.” You sighed before leaning over him, turning the knob that regulated heat all the way down to about 18°C to 19°C since you did a quick search as to what the ocean temperature was like during this time of year.

With that set, you turned on the tap. The water splashed onto his tail and Jotaro jolted for a second, curiously looking down at how the water flowed out afterwards.

Going to quickly grab a large measuring cup from the sink in your kitchen downstairs, you returned to your bathroom to sit beside the tub and briefly held it under the running water until it was filled, turning and pouring it further down his tail. A small, barely noticeable sigh of relief left Jotaro when you did that and you smiled a bit to yourself before starting to repeat the motion.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” You spoke between pouring cups, also pouring it over the part of his tail that was hanging out. You had put a towel on the floor by the crack of the door, already accepting that this entire room was gonna be flooded, so you had no qualms with doing it.

“I see it differently.” Was his cryptic response and you deadpanned.

“Of course you do.”

The tub was now filled for two thirds and just to get back at him a little, you filled your cup once more, before abruptly turning and pouring it straight over his head.

Jotaro didn’t flinch but he did turn his eyes to you, sending you a look, to which you giggled. Bringing your arm back under the tap, you filled the measuring bucket again, a sly grin on your face as you moved it back to his face.

Jotaro was faster though, as he grabbed onto your wrist before you could angle it over his head. “Y/N, don’t.” He warned, sending you a stern look. Your surprised ‘o’ face turned into a smirk however, as you simply tilted your wrist forward and splashed the water directly in his face.

An evil giggle left you but it was stifled when Jotaro used his free hand to grab the cup from you and throw it across the room, using his grip on your wrist not a second later to pull you towards himself.

Your balance tipped over the bathtub but you managed to catch yourself with your free hand, slinging your arm around Jotaro’s shoulder to stop yourself while the arm stuck in his grip now touched the tiles of the wall.

He had attempted to pull you into the bathtub but you managed to catch yourself as your upper body now hovered over it.

Or, at least, that’s what you thought.

Jotaro never intended to pull you into the bath. Releasing your wrist, Jotaro instead placed his hand on the side of your neck and jaw, putting his other on your side to pull you closer towards himself and lock you in place. All of this happened in less than a second and a surprised squeak left you.

Jotaro found the sound absolutely adorable and when his teeth nipped at the skin of your neck, you did it again, just much louder this time, making the merman chuckle.

“I warned you.” You heard the smugness in his voice, making you take a shuddering breath.

“O-Okay, I get it. Can you let go now?” You were starting to get very flustered, feeling Jotaro’s breath against your neck as well as an occasional brush of his lips on your skin.

Your question earned you another nip however, this time a little closer to your shoulder, Jotaro having pulled your shirt away a bit to expose it. “Not what I want to hear.”

“You want to hear something?!” You exclaimed, making Jotaro let out a ‘mhm.’ Him shifting his face, almost as if he was looking for another place to playfully bite at you. “I- I-“ You started rambling out things but Jotaro was no longer focused on that.

It was like you put a spell on him. Jotaro had never before felt the urge to court someone before. And then you stepped into his life, being so kind yet always ready with a witty retort whenever he shot you one. And now, he had you so close, almost pressed into his chest, breathing in your intoxicating scent.

Without pause, Jotaro opened his mouth and locked his jaw onto the spot where your neck met your shoulder, a little further down.

Oh how he wanted to claim you. He wouldn’t! But the thought of how he simply had to just clamp down and bite a little harder, marking you as his, was way too tempting to not at least tease. Just get a small taste. The tips of his teeth ever so slightly punctured through your skin and Jotaro closed his eyes in bliss.

All the while, you froze and swallowed, because, that was not just a little nip from his front few teeth, this was a lot of them. A slight pain flared up where he bit and you squeezed his shoulder that you were leaning onto. “Jotaro?” You meekly let out and he then started making a noise that he- was that purring? You didn’t even know he could.

You didn’t dare move nor speak a word, not knowing what was going on and just listening to the calming sound coming from him for the next minute.

Finally Jotaro figured that was enough, lifting his teeth away and silently admiring the very light and small mark he made. It wouldn’t scar or stay, but Jotaro already loved the look of it. He leaned his head down and ran his tongue over it, tasting the faintest bit of your blood as he licked it away, treating your wound with utmost care.

This you allowed, a bit more relaxed by the familiar behaviour, for he had done this as well when you had cut yourself on some broken glass someone had left half buried in the sand.

Finally he let go and you quickly shot up, standing straight as an arrow next to the bathtub.

Jotaro was being forward. He knew that. Maybe even a bit too much so. But he felt he could risk it. Now that he was literally in your house, he didn’t have to worry about his forwardness scaring you away. You literally couldn’t run and avoid him. If you hadn’t picked up on his signs up until now, he had to make them more obvious; marking where the mating mark would come being one of the most obvious things he could think of.

“That’s for not listening to me.” He remarked and you opened and closed your mouth like a guppy, staring wide eyed at your tiled wall before shaking your head and snapping out of your state, slapping your hand onto your shoulder, briefly forgetting he had just licked you there and scrunching up your nose a bit cause- ew.

Lifting your hand back off you wiped it on your pants before walking to the cup Jotaro had thrown on the floor, picking it up and walking back over, nearly slipping as you did. This made Jotaro flinch to try and catch you but you already steadied yourself, meaning all that accomplished was throwing more water on the floor, the reason you nearly slipped.

After returning to his side, you continued trying to completely wet him; neither of you really saying anything, just staying in a comfortable silence.

After another ten minutes however, you figured that was good enough.

“Alright!” Slapping the edge of the tub, you smiled at the Mer. “I think that’s good enough. In about three hours the sun will go down, then we can get you from here to the pool.”

With that you stood up, but before anything else, your wrist was grabbed. “Where are you going?”

“I have to do some things.” You smiled, only for the hand around your wrist to tighten.

Jotaro held a somewhat sad and somewhat angry look on his face as he held on. “Stay?”

“Jotaro, I’ve got to do stuff.” You shook your head but Jotaro didn’t like that.

“Stay.” He growled it this time, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“No, I have to go do things. You stay here fish boy, I’ll come check on you after I’m done.” With that, you went to turn away, trying to pull your wrist from his hold as you moved to take a step.

Yet you yelped loudly as you were suddenly tugged sideways, falling towards your bath before a pair of arms caught you. You were spun around and pulled down, the sensation of cold water flooding over and enveloping your lower half making your breath hitch.

The water sloshed dangerously, threatening to spill over the edge of the tub as Jotaro settled down, tightly holding you against himself and basically on his lap, his arms like chains around your middle and barely even giving you enough room to breathe, definitely not leaving you any room to squirm.

“Stay.” Jotaro’s voice was low, a faint, deep, rumbling growl from the back of his throat accompanying his words as he spoke almost directly into your ear.

Almost immediately you starred, instinctively doing as he said as you sat still, your eyes staring wide in surprise. Your chest was going up and down fast with deep breaths. It wasn’t that you were afraid of Jotaro, he wouldn’t hurt you, you knew that. It was more that it made you realise how large and dangerous Jotaro actually could be if he so chose to be.

Taking in a deep breath to calm down, you tried to ignore the coming stress of not being able to complete that task for work today (it was fine, you could do it tomorrow, right?), as well as trying to not make your teeth clack thanks to sitting in the cold water. Cause while Jotaro was made for it, you definitely weren’t.

Seeing as you weren’t trying to squirm out of his hold, Jotaro happily started purring, his chest pressed directly into your back while he placed his chin on your shoulder. Shifting his tail, he turned the end around until it was splayed out over your lap in front of you, allowing you to play with the fins.

You gently grabbed hold, starting to stroke over them and Jotaro revelled in your soft touch. You guessed this was gonna be your life for the next three hours. Freezing your butt off in water while in the hold of a grumpy Merman who would not let go.

- - - -

“Jotaro, please don’t splash!” You called out from the kitchen.

“I’m not!” Was the response you got, making you look over at your living room. There, past your dining table, in front of the couch, sat the ginormous Mer ...in a kids pool.

You had bought it about two days ago after Jotaro kept complaining that you weren’t coming outside to see him. He loved to ignore the fact that it was bloody cold and raining so hard that you only had to stand outside for a second to be drenched. So, to solve this and not have Jotaro forced to sit in the bathroom on his own, you bought a kiddie pool. One of the bigger ones you could find yet was still able to fit there where your coffee table once stood.

Right now, you were just making something to snack on while Jotaro sat and ‘patiently’ waited for you. He had discovered the television yesterday and was absolutely enamoured. Just now coaxing and urging you to turn it on again. You had agreed and were thus now getting some snacks ready to eat and drink during the marathon.

Marathon of what? No clue.

Walking over to the couch area, you placed the different snacks down on the pushed aside coffee table, walking back to the kitchen to grab the drinks as well before returning.

“Here, drink something first.” You offered the glass in your hand to Jotaro and he scrunched up his nose, as if a kid who has just been asked to take his vitamins. “You haven’t been in the bathtub in a bit and you know chlorine can’t be the best thirst clencher.” You sighed. “So unless you plan to faceplant in the kiddie pool, drink up, Jojo.” You used the nickname he had asked you to call him on purpose, knowing he loved it when you did that.

And it proved true, for he took the tall glass from your hand and threw it back as if it was a shot without any more complaint.

Happy that he did it, you quickly refilled the glass before placing it down on the table by his side, stepping over the furniture with a bit of a wobble (you had to put the table in the walkway or else the pool wouldn’t fit) and walking to the front of your tv.

“So, what do you want to watch?” You asked as you sat crouched down.

A wet hand suddenly got placed on your lower back and right thigh, Jotaro having pulled himself up to you as he was now curiously looking over your shoulder.

“What’s that?” Jotaro asked, lifting his hand from your thigh as he pointed to a certain dvd case sitting at the bottom of the pile in your hand.

“This? It’s a Barbie film. I have it for when my niece comes over.” You raised a brow and turned your head to look back at Jotaro. His eyes were transfixed on the box and you couldn’t help but silently giggle at his cute look. For him, it was the colours. The vibrant pink and silver sparkles just drew his attention and curiosity, having not a clue about anything else. “You wanna watch it?” You asked but didn’t get a clear answer.

And so, you just decided for the both of you. “Fuck it, let’s watch it.” You chuckled, putting all the other DVD’s away and taking the Barbie disc out of its case and into the player.

Standing up, Jotaro finally took his hand off your lower back - where now sat a wet spot - and slinked back to the other side of the pool, patiently waiting for you and for the movie to start.

Snorting softly, you shook your head as you grabbed the remote and walked around the pool, climbing onto the couch and to the middle of it, taking your fluffy socks off as you sat behind Jotaro in your short summer pyjamas, choosing the language of the Barbie film like they always asked before putting your feet in the pool.

A happy rumble left Jotaro as you did that, your legs running under his arms and at his side, the Mer now grabbing your ankles as he made you lock your legs around his torso, leaning back into the bottom of the couch as if it was a backrest. His elbows pointed down, he held onto your legs around his torso, making you keep them there as he petted and lightly scratched them. A content rumbling sigh leaving him as you pressed play on the movie.

You just looked at the back of his head for a bit, feeling his hands glide over your legs. It was a strange, the direction your life decided to take you on, sure. But you had to admit that you did not mind per se.

Leaning forward, you patted the top of Jotaro’s head twice, making him start a bit and look at you wide eyed while you leaned over and grabbed your bowl of snacks, leaning back into the couch cushions afterwards, ready for the movie.

In the end, Jotaro didn’t like it. Barbie was annoying. But the colours were pretty!