#bigger houses chapter 7: then again

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 7: Then Again

From: Bigger Houses Series

Pairing: Mountain Ranger! Ari x Reader

Summary: Everyone’s got regrets they might wish to go back and change, but then again, you would have never gotten here

Word Count: 3,304

Content/Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, SMUT, honest conversations, hiking, cuddling, soft intimate shower, oral sex (f receiving), p in v protected sex, lotsa kissing, praise and lowkey size kink, swears

Author’s Note: O. M. G. This is the first time I’ve written smut, so I wanted to make it super soft and loving like I feel really pairs for this couple. Nine months into the relationship, wowza. Talk about true love, somebody pls find me a bear of a man like this.

Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are sooooo welcome and appreciated!!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Below is the song which inspired this chapter. It’s my favorite on the entire album. It just kinda puts warmth and longing into my chest, so I hope the vibe matches what I’ve written.

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“Yes Mom, I promise I’ll be safe.” You looked into the camera of your phone as your mom looked right back at you.

“As long as you promise. I don’t want you eaten by a bear, but apparently you’ve got your own bear of a boyfriend to ward them off.” You laughed along with her own chuckle at that joke.

“Yes, Ari knows these woods well. I have no doubt he’s taking us on a good and safe route.” Your head turned away from the phone at a knock at the door.

“That’s probably him now.”

It was Sunday morning and Ari had asked you on a nice hike with him. The weather was set to be sunny, yet brisk, perfect for a rigorous walk through the mountains.

You opened the door and Ari greeted you with a kiss on the top of your head. “Morning, Duchess.”

He turned to see you were on the phone. “Oh, good morning Mrs.—“

“Ari, please. Call me mom. How many times do I have to tell you?” You both smiled and blushed at that as Ari went into your kitchen and dropped off his things. You sat on the couch, continuing your phone call.

“I knew there was something about that boy the first time I saw him. I’m so glad the two of you are so happy together. I can’t wait to come visit and officially meet him in person soon.” Ari had spoken to your mom on several occasions over FaceTime now, each time garnering more of her respect and adoration, which was rare for her. She always had sky high expectations, and you were her daughter after all, but she didn’t want you to have to face the same struggles she did, both career and romance-wise.

You rolled your eyes, thinking she wouldn’t catch it, but of course she did. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady. You know I’m right. I’ll let you go have fun on your date, though. I love you!”

You smiled back. “Love you, too, Mom.”

Once the call ended, you walked over to Ari, watching him bent over and looking through your fridge. You just couldn’t resist the urge to smack the plump, ripe piece of ass in joggers before you. Just as you were winding up, a large hand went and covered both cheeks.

“I know what you’re, thinking, Angel. You’re not gonna get me this time.” He rose from his hunched position, and towered over you, eyes glinting with mischief, pairing with the sly grin on his face. Before you knew it, Ari had scooped you up and plopped you back on the couch, peppering your face with kisses and tickling your sides. You were helpless, kicking your legs from under his body, doing your best to fight off the attack.

“Ari, quit it! I give, I give, you win!” You squealed through your giggle.

Ari’s hands and lips stopped their assault, but he didn’t pull away, instead, leaning in and putting a fat kiss on your lips. “Get on your hiking boots! We’ve gotta go before it gets hot.”

You nodded and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “Help me tie them?”

Ari’s head drooped down as he sighed and grabbed your boots off the floor. He could never say no to that look. He kissed each shin as he slid the boots onto your feet. “Anything for you, Duchess.”

You helped by tying one of the shoes as Ari tied the other. He was just such an expert, having to do this everyday for however many years now. Looking at the single knot you had made on your right shoe, he untied it and pulled the laces tight, making his own double knot in its place.

“You’re so much better at that than me.” You huffed. He laughed back, kissing the wrinkle away from your forehead that showed up when you were frustrated.

“Nonsense. You’re great at it. I just like ‘em extra secure.” He grabbed your hand and helped to lift you off the couch, the two of you putting on your hiking backpacks and heading out the door, ready for the trail.

Your hike was filled with amazing views and sightings of so much wildlife. You truly loved seeing Ari in his element, as well. He constantly checked on you as he led you through the winding trails, pointing out his favorite spots and, of course, stopping for snacks and photo ops.

He could tell when the exhaustion was starting to creep in, but luckily by that point, the two of you were nearly home.

As you came back, Ari started on heating up the leftovers from dinner the night before. You went out to your back porch which overlooked the rolling landscape, rich with colors of green and rocky gray, mountains graced with snow caps when you looked up at the peaks surrounding you.

Ari came out carrying two warm plates of Thai food from the good place in town and you snuggled up on the couch of your patio furniture and ate together.

He grabbed your plates and set them aside, as the two of you chatted, the sun casting a warm glow over the landscape. Ari pulled you close so your back was against his chest, his strong arms tight around your waist. He wiggled to scoot until his back was up against the arm rest, finally placing his head on your shoulder as the two of you settled.

Ari kissed your neck, his beard lightly scratching the sensitive skin, as you sat there pensively. “Ari, do you ever wish you could go back and change things? Go back to a time that was simpler, where you didn’t know what it was like to live through so many hardships? Do it all differently?” You felt his chest heave with a sigh and he exhaled out of his nose, the warm air hitting your collar bone.

Ari let the question hang in the air for a moment, thinking over everything in his life while he formulated an answer. “If I could go back, I probably would’ve held onto my old Bronco. It used to be my grandpa’s, and it was getting old, so I traded it in for the truck. I probably would’ve visited him down in Atlanta a little more, too, before he passed.”

You nodded as he hummed, thinking of more things. “I probably would’ve stuck around for graduation, finished my degree so I could become rich.”

You giggled as his chest rumbled behind you. “I’d probably apologize to Savannah for wasting her time, would’ve hung out and vacationed with my childhood friends a little more….”

“Had a little more patience, or sent a few more prayers to heaven, but I don’t know if that all was really in the cards. If it were up to me, who knows where I’d be? I look back at all of that. The heartbreaks, the hard goodbyes, they led me here.”

You turned to look up at him, his gaze distant in thought before he looked down at you. “If it was all different, though, I wouldn’t be sitting here with my whole world in my arms, stealing kisses on a Sunday afternoon. Sure, there are a few things that I might’ve changed if God put me in charge, but then again, I would have never met you.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes at his words. “Why? Is there anything you regret?”

You laughed and sniffled as you shook your head. “No. Not at all.” He used his thumb to wipe the tears falling down your cheeks.

“I feel really dumb right now. I was gonna say something stupid like buying bitcoin to be rich. Or like, maybe just not date at all until I found you. But you make a great point. I wouldn’t have come up here if it weren’t for all that. I think I love you too much to regret anything that led me here. Anything that I thought was a wrong turn definitely turned out right.”

He shook his head, laughing along with you, kissing away the rest of your tears. “Trust me, I love you more.”

The two of you sat there, basking in each other’s presence, before you began to become overly aware of the dried dirt and sweat that sat on your skin.

“I, um…. I think I’m gonna go take a shower. Get the outdoors off of me.” Ari nodded and helped you up off his lap, preparing to head home and do the same when you lingered before heading inside.

“Do you want to….join…me?” Ari sprung up out of his chair, head nodding vigorously. He grabbed the plates off the table and ran to drop them in the sink. He watched as you sauntered, hips swaying while you discarded pieces of clothing, one by one, completely naked before reaching the barn door that closed off the master bathroom from your bedroom.

Ari shimmied down his pants with much less grace, shucking off his shirt and socks, before joining you in the steamy room. He watched in awe as you stepped into the water and it ran down the curves of your body. Ari reached his hand under the stream and immediately retracted at the sting of the heat.

“God, Duchess. I love you, but I don’t think I could stand it if the lava you’re standing under burns my skin off before I even get to touch you.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Bear, it’s not that bad.”

You begrudgingly turned down the temperature as Ari joined you. This wasn’t the first time you and Ari had done anything, but it was the first time you had seen each other fully naked all at once, since you hadn’t fully had sex yet.

You turned around as Ari grabbed your shampoo, gently rubbing it into your scalp. You moaned in satisfaction at the feeling of his fingertips massaging your head, basking in the intimacy and ecstasy of the moment.

“Angel, if you keep making noises like that, I don’t think we’ll ever get clean.” You laughed as you leaned back to wash the shampoo out of your hair.

Ari leaned under the stream with you to wet his hair. You squeezed the shampoo into your hand and began to massage it into his scalp, scratching your nails through his hair just the way he liked.

“Oh, fuck Angel, that’s good.” You giggled, hitting him in the chest.

“If I’ve gotta stop, so do you, mister.”

The two of you continued to wash each other, sharing kisses and feather light touches here and there before getting out and drying off.

Once you had brushed out your hair and Ari’s, the two of you made your way to your bed, sheets freshly washed just the day before. You had your towel wrapped around your body while Ari’s hung low on his waist. Ari held your hips, looking into your eyes, as you slowly backed up until your knees gave out from hitting against the bed.

Ari moved to crawl over you, his towel coming undone as he did so. Your eyes trailed down his firm chest, to his chiseled abs, until you could see how hard he was. You moaned at the sight, watching how his dick twitched in response.

His eyes stayed locked with yours until he leaned down and kissed you, trailing away from your lips and down your neck before retracing the path with his tongue.

You shuffled under him, removing your towel and discarding it on the floor with his, adjusting yourself so your head laid against the pillows. He kissed you again, deeply, passionately, before smiling and pulling away.

“I love you. I’d never change anything about my life unless it meant I could have met you sooner just to love you that much longer.”

You could feel his heavy cock tap against your leg as he kissed down your chest, eyes never leaving yours. You watched intently, lips parted in a light gasp as he finally reached where you were yearning for his touch.

Ari’s biceps bulged when he pulled your legs apart, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. Your breath shuddered at the sensation.

“Is this okay, Angel?” You nodded and whispered back.

“Yes, please. Please keep going.”

Ari’s tongue darted out of his mouth licking a stripe up your slit. Your back bowed as he dove in, licking and sucking. You knew he called you Angel, but his tongue was heavenly.

You let out a high-pitched moan, entangling your fingers through the wet strands of Ari’s hair, using the leverage to grind against his face. He inserted a finger into you, pumping it and curling it against your spot just right. You felt your legs began to shake, but pushed Ari’s head away before you could reach your peak.

“Wait, hold on.” You spoke while still trying to catch your breath. He looked up at you in bewilderment, beard glistening with your arousal.

“What’s wrong, Duchess? Did I do something?” You shook your head, still gasping for air.

“No, no. It was so good, I just, uh…..I want you to be inside me when I come.” Ari nodded, coming back up your body to kiss you.

“Okay.” He whispered back, a soft smile on his face. “Gimme a sec.”

He ran over to his discarded joggers and fished in the pocket to find his wallet where he pulled out a condom. He returned to you in bed, taking his spot between your legs again, and rolled it on. You knew he was huge, and you’d only taken two of his fingers before, but you couldn’t help the anticipation to feel all of him.

“I’m gonna open you up first, okay Angel?”

You nodded and immediately threw your head back as Ari scissored two of his long fingers against your walls, preparing you and stretching you out for what was to come. You wailed when he added a third and Ari swore he had never heard or seen something so beautiful before. The movie that was you feeling this level of bliss from him made him feel warmth and pride through his chest. He needed to be inside you.

Ari pulled out his fingers, swirling his tongue around them and sucking them clean, moaning at the sweet taste. His eyes rolled back and he nearly came from the culmination of partaking in your pleasure up to that point. You couldn’t help but clench against nothing, watching the specks of lust within the love in his gaze after that as he leaned down and framed your face with his large hands. He leaned in to kiss you, then pulled away as his dark blue irises, thin around his blown pupils, shifted between your eyes.

“Are you ready? Are you sure?” It came out breathy and strained. He wanted this as badly as you, after taking everything step by painfully slow step for nine months together.

“Yes, Ari. Please. I just want to feel you so close.”

He nodded and ran the head of his cock

up and down your folds, gathering your arousal before perching at your entrance. He kept one hand at his base, the other on your cheek as he looked deeply into your eyes. You felt the bulbous tip breach your entrance, almost with a pop as your tight warmth welcomed Ari.

“Ah, oh, Angel, you’re so tight.” Ari nearly yelped at the feeling of being inside you. You watched as he couldn’t help but let his eyes flutter closed from the overwhelming pleasure. “I’ll take it slow, promise.”

All Ari wanted was for you to enjoy this as much as him, and when he was able to pry his eyes open to see the way your face was contorted, your eyes as sincere and pleading as his, he knew you were. He slowly pushed in further, accompanied by a deep moan from you. Neither of you were virgins by any means, but something about this moment with Ari felt like being born again, straight into delectation.

He pushed another inch in, slowly, and your hands flew to his broad back, nails digging in the muscles that firmly blanketed his scapulas. His hips jumped at the sting, pushing him in to the hilt, causing you both to brace against each other at the fullness and all encompassing warmth.

His head dipped into crook of your neck, breath fanning your collar bone and beard sending tingles through your body as he sucked on the spot that gave you chills.

Your hands ran down his back and to his ass, pulling him in closer to you, if that was even possible.

“Ari, I need you to move.” You felt him nod against you and his hips pulled out only a few inches before rolling back in.

You breathy moans were close to his ear, spurring him on to keep going faster, pulling out farther and pushing in deeper until the warmth from your core began to climb up your body again. He found a rhythm and could feel as your pussy began to clench.

“Duchess, I can feel you’re close. It feels so good. You’re always so good to me.” His praise pulled you that much closer to the edge, hands grasping for purchase across his back, slipping slightly from the thin layer of sweat.

“Fuck, Angel. So tight. It’s okay, you can let go. Let go for me.” Ari needed you to come for him. He needed to feel your body sucking him in, holding him tighter. He pulled his head from your neck to look into your eyes when it happened. He moved his thumb down to your clit, rubbing tight circles and sending you over the cliff you were hanging on.

“Oh god, Ari!” You keened, your ankles locking around his narrow hips as your entire body contracted in ecstasy. Ari wasn’t far behind, the tightness surrounding him causing him to drive his hips all the way forward and spill into the condom. He collapsed over your chest again as he grunted lowly into your ear.

The two of you stayed there for a few minutes as you caught your breaths. He pulled back, his now dry hair draping over the sides of his face and framing yours, making a small world where it was only the two of you. His silky brown locks blocked everything else out. The only thing in existence was your shared gaze, filled with hazy satisfaction and dopey smiles.

Ari leaned down and kissed your lips, and then your forehead before he whispered to you. “I’m going to pull out, okay? You stay here while I go get a washcloth.”

You nodded and gasped as you felt the sensation of the ridges of his dick passing against your walls until you were empty. On instinct you rolled over to your side and closed your legs, still sporadically convulsing from the orgasm. Ari returned and cleaned you up, pulling up the covers and crawling into bed behind you, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you closer.

He kissed you shoulder and muttered. “I’m so happy to have you. I love you so much.”

You turned over and tangled your legs with his, pulling him in for a lazy, filthy kiss. “I love you, and I’m the luckiest person in the world. Or more like, my whole world was just in me.”

You winked at Ari as his shoulders bounced in laughter at your ridiculous statement. You were drunk in happiness, but neither of you would have it any other way. You slung your arm around his waist and nestled deeply into his chest, a satisfied smile on your face.

Next >

Bonus A/N: as Paris Hilton says, “that’s hot”

Series Taglist:

@patzammit

@hawkeyes-queen

@identity2212

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 7 part 1/2

Masterpost

“I see,” said Alfie, hands full of breakfast dishes. “When can I expect you to return home, Miss Cassandra?” Calm. Composed. She followed at his back with the empty water and juice pitchers.

She hummed, doing math in her head. 90 minutes on a fast bike, unknown time there, 90 minutes back. “Dinner?” Cass guessed. “Will message again at 3 with updated estimate.” She put the pitchers down beside the sink silently.

Alfie gave a brisk nod at that sensible plan. Approval. “Very well, Miss. Please drive carefully.” He paused. “And do not forget hydration and your sunscreen.”

“Love you too,” she said, and went to put on the sunscreen. Then she was a whirlwind to get ready. Athletic undersuit, first. Pullover mask in the back, a long hood design that hooked back in on itself. Convenient! Gloves in black jeans pockets. Ankle boots, good for kicking and for driving. 

Cass put her flying suit in her student backpack and put her hands on her hips. She looked around. Room? Clean enough. Equipment? Packed. Reasonable projection of needs? Cass crinkled up her brow and made her best judgment. Probably minimal. Combat not expected, companion powerful. 

“Jacket,” Cass muttered to herself, sudden realization! She darted across the house to get it. The green jacket was important. It was a talisman. It was representative. It was a civilian flying suit that reminded her she was powerful and beautiful. 

When she had it on, she went back for her student back bag and then left from the upper level garage. Black bike, nondescript. Mid range price. 

Cass paused astride the bike, feet firmly planted on either side on the crunchy white gravel of their long driveway. She unzipped the front left pocket and withdrew her phone. To Marvel, she said,

🦇 🏍️ ⬆️ == 1.5 h ⌚ 

Then she opened a new message to Batdad. She didn’t want him to worry. So she said,

💕 👋🏼  🏍️ 

The last person to get a message was Stephanie, who was not flying because she was still in medical schooling. Cass sent,

Just because it was funny. It would make Stephanie laugh.

Then she was off.

Cass pulled her black bat hood down when she found the right area. It was day. Many stares that she loftily ignored. The meeting spot wasn’t Gotham or Fawcett. The laughing magician was in dingy small town, smoking and drinking. Captain Marvel found him first and hauled him out, friendly arm over shoulder. Cass crouched on the roof of nextdoor building to silently peer down, batting a little for the comfort factor of bat things. He was still big-man Marvel-lie, but with new clothes. Happy face with torn jeans and t-shirt. She squinted. Same Marvel shoes. Hmm. No budget, Cass decided. If any budget, better shoes.

Constantine blinked up at Captain Marvel, dazed from alcohol but interested in big handsome man. “Where are you taking me, prettyboy?” He slurred. He was a mess. He reached up and cupped Marvel’s face.

Cass moved. 

Constantine noticed her rapid approach and stumbled upright. Eyes sharp, intelligent. Then: dismay. “Fuck,” he said. Very unhappy. Genuine dislike. “A bat. Which one are you?” Disdain. 

Cass frowned. “Hands off,” she demanded. She crossed her arms. “He’s baby.”

“What?” Marvel said, sounding distressed. Ah. He didn’t know that she knew.

“Really?” Constantine said, wrinkling his face up and looking between her and Marvel pointedly. Because he was a foolish little man who didn’t understand facts that walked into his life. “A nightmare like you pulled this bloke? Fuck my life.”

Yes. A nightmare. Your nightmare.

Cass stretched her mask mouth wider so the teeth would stretch and pull even bigger. She leered at him with all her scariness. He looked like he wished she would leave. Wondered if he made good decision. Regret. Regret. I run my big damn mouth.

“Hey!” Marvel rallied, totally missing the body language interplay. “She’s not a nightmare! Black Bat is very kind and smart.” He put his hands on his hips, which happily meant he had to stop supporting middle-aged wizard weight.

Constantine said some curses under his voice that she didn’t know. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. The rattling from inside told Cass: three cigarettes. No metal, no secret hidden weapon unless it closely resembled cigarette shape. Maintain wariness. He lit it on fire with his fingers.

What? No lighter? Cass saw no lighter.

While Cass was busy frowning about that the wizard turned on his heel. “Toodles,” he said, and then Marvel grabbed him. 

“Wait! We need your professional help.”

“Do I look like I’m working?” Grungy wizard demanded. He waved a hand up and down his body, showing off his sleeveless tank top and tight pants. 

“Yes.” Black Bat took a couple steps closer. She knew this. “You were working. You’re not so intoxicated. You were running a scam for funding. You need money?” She kept anything out of her tone that could sound like judgment, leaving it cold and empty. No-nonsense. “I pay for consultation.”

Grungy wizard paused, looking her up and down. He took a drag on his cigarette. Stinky wizard. He blew it out at Marvel, RUDE wizard. “Really?” He was dubious. “Where’s the catch?” Stinky wizard scrunkled his face at her. “Usually it’s all ‘you owe it to the world, it’s for the good of humanity, don’t you have any decency?” with you people.

Cass rolled her eyes. “Can we cut the-” her eyes darted to Marvel. “Bullshit?” she finished, because it was the right word even if there were little ears present. “One thousand dollars American.”

Captain Marvel looked at her, eyes wide. Shocked. Envy. Small.

Oh. She hid her sudden bad feeling. 

“...Make it one and a half thousand, Bird, that’s a love,” oozed the Stinky Wizardman. He didn’t expect, but-

“Fine.” Cass said briskly. She didn’t want to spend a lot of time on money. She pulled out her wallet and withdrew one hundred dollar bills until she had 15. The Wizard cursed jealousy and ran a hand through his hair. Marvel was fascinated. Hmm. She held it out.

The wizard wanted it. He looked. He really wanted it. But: wary. No trust. Can’t trust a bat.

She let out a disgusted sigh. Black Bat shook the bills at him impatiently. “My Black Bat fund,” she said, in a tone that meant ‘do you have a brain that thinks thoughts?’ She continued, “For my use in-suit. Obviously real money. Obviously non-consecutive legal tender.” Duh.

“Okie Dokie!” Marvel said cheerfully. “We’re back on track.”

The wizard snatched it and stuffed it in his back pocket, hungry dog, don’t take it from me, I need it. “Let’s not talk here. I have a hotel room.” 

‘Did the stinkyman invite Marvel-baby to his hotel?’

Cass cut the wizard a death look.

He coughed and avoided looking at her. 

That was a yes. “You’re a bad judge of people,” she told the wizard, voice full of disdain. “Yes. Let’s go.” She pointedly moved in between him and Marvel-baby. 

[tamurilofrivendell]

Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 18

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care of Radagast, who is actually the ‘lost’ daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad. Taglist (it's been so long, if these are wrong now or you want taken off, let me know): @jinlizz-dragondrama @firelightinferno @bubbleyukismile @coopsgirl @achromaticerebus @sleepyamygdala @smalltownbigheart @qmabailor @genderfluid-anime-goth @0chemicalwaste0 @silvercobra @thesunschild777 @atlanticowe @whore-of-many-hot-men @whiteladyofithilien @vintagelizziesblog @synx-h

The silence was unnerving, to say the least. There was a distinct absence of sound and every step you took seemed to be magnified in your ears. It was akin to when a child got up in the middle of the night and crept through the house to sneak a snack, and every single noise seemed bigger than it was in the daytime, and you were certain you'd be caught out because of it. Your heart was beating so hard and fast in your chest that you were almost convinced that she would hear it from where you now hid. That it would act as a beacon that would guide her directly to you.

After fleeing the Enchantress, your legs had carried you blindly out of the door and through the winding halls of the fortress and you were now completely, utterly, hopelessly lost. The darkness was pressing in on you and every small sound, every minor echo, caused you to practically jump out of your skin. Certain that this time you were caught.

You were currently standing behind a large pillar with no real idea of how long you'd been there, too afraid to move. Huddled in the dark. Listening, waiting. Ready to run.

An eternity stretched by.

Then there was a scuffling sound. Like someone creeping closer and closer. A cold chill ran up your spine as you tensed, ready to flee.

After your unexpected escape, the Enchantress had been briefly bewildered, not anticipating such a move, not expecting it from the likes of you. She had expected it to be much easier. Much less trouble. She'd swiftly come after you, her near-silent footsteps bringing her ever closer to your hopeless hiding place.

She could sense you.

You were close, she could tell that much.

She could practically taste your fear.

A twisted grin pulled at the Enchantress's lips. "Anarórë," she taunted in a singsong voice. "I know you're in here."

Silence.

But she'd expected nothing in return. She'd expected you to be terrified and quiet. Meek as the little mouse you had been raised to be. Hidden away in that forest all these years under the overprotective care of a Wizard! The most inept wizard of all of them, at that! In her eyes, Radagast had done most of the work for her. You were so easy to lure in, to lure away, and you would be so easy to ensnare...

A second later, something hard hit her from behind, over the back of the head, and sent her tumbling to the floor. With a ragged snarl, she turned in time to see the hem of your dress fluttering round the door of the room, slamming it shut behind you.

Wretch! she thought as she pulled herself back onto her feet and turned to see what had sent her tumbling. A marble bust from one of the many displays around the room lay on the stone floor behind her. Hm. So the little princess knew how to play dirty, after all? Perhaps she had underestimated you.

No.

She shook the thought off as quickly as it had come. You had simply gotten lucky this time, having found something within reach to act as a weapon. You would not get another chance.

With a snarl, she swept towards the door and yanked roughly at the handle.

Nothing happened.

Frowning, she pulled again, harder.

It held fast.

Your footsteps echoed through the empty hallways as you ran. Ran and ran, it seemed, with no end.

After hitting Luithien over the back of the head with the marble bust, you'd turned and fled, slamming the door behind you... and then wedging a rather conveniently placed large wooden slat through the handles, praying to the Valar that it would keep the doors shut, just long enough to cause a delay if not for good, enough to give you a bigger head start.

The fortress was like a maze and as you ran you were certain you had to be going the wrong way. It felt as though you were only being given the option to travel up and deeper instead of down and out. You had no choice but to just keep moving, however, fearing that if you stood still you would be dead. Well, not dead... but in a terrible sort of stasis for the rest of your life. As grateful as you were that Radagast had managed to add any kind of loophole, it was still quite a terrifying concept.

With yet again no other option presented to you, up another staircase you ran, hiking up your dress so as not to trip and lose precious seconds.

It was brighter up here, somehow, and it served to fill you with a false sense of hope as you moved further down the corridor.

Thranduil had made it to the clearing in good time and was secretly dismayed to find it empty. Nobody in sight.

What was he expecting? To find you picking berries in the middle of the clearing with the birds, singing a song much like how he'd first found you? Ridiculous. You were gone. Gone, and nobody had seen you slip away. How was that possible?

It wasn't. The only explanation was that the Enchantress had somehow gotten to you, inside his own castle walls. It was absurd but it was the only thing that made any sort of sense. You could not get out of the building, the room even, without at least one other being seeing you.

Urging his horse on, he thundered away from the clearing, heading in the direction of Radagast's little cottage. He dismounted and rushed inside, not expecting to find you but he had to at least look. Thranduil still could not believe that you had been here this whole time, right under his very nose, and he had had absolutely no idea. How could he, he'd thought you were dead, but... he almost felt silly for not realising. He trailed through the rooms like a man lost, looking for nothing in particular and growing more and more frustrated by the feeling that he might be too late.

In the little room that you had called your own, he ran his finger over the spines of books, looked at the tattered little teddy bear on the windowsill that you had had since you were but an elfling. He found himself thinking about all the little stories about your life, all the hundreds of years of history, anecdotes and such, that he would never know. He could ask Radagast, he supposed, but it wouldn't be the same... plus, his ego would never allow him such a thing.

A sudden commotion outside caught his attention and his horse gave a loud, almost frightened, bray.

He spun on his heel and rushed back outside, coming face to face with two orcs attempting to terrify his horse, probably kill. He drew his sword in one fluid motion and advanced, cutting them down easily enough but their appearance got him thinking.

Orcs.

Amon Lanc.

The name of the fortress flickered through Thranduil's mind like a wildfire and he turned his hard gaze south.

[starberry-cupcake]

we have only one chapter this time because a) a lot happened here and b) I think we'll have two next time, so buckle up for school!!

previously in nona del 9:

this happened

general tag for those finding this in the wild

CHAPTER 17 (a plant??????)

nona wakes up and camilla is there but pyrrha is still missing

nona, because she's in a cumple 24/7 (for an explanation of this term, check this recap), doesn't tell camolive (camilla and palmolive switch) about having seen the broadcast

she does, however, tell palmolive that coronabeer lied and told angel teacher that she was dating camilla

to which palmolive replies "On Crown's head be it"

I'm high-fiving palmolive because of this

palmolive, however, is very busy cursing and thinking that pyrrha might have gone to the shuttle by herself to ask about nona's whereabouts

nona falls asleep right after, eating an ice cube like my puppy does

and this is weird because we don't have a dr john interlude in here

she says her dreams were blurry and confused with reality and that makes her fuzzy on whether or not she saw gideon dream girl in the necromancer stream fest or not

she still chooses not to tell camolive about it

camilla is making breakfast so she asks nona to record her dream things herself

maybe this is why we don't have a dr reverend emperor john interlude? because nona fucks up the recording?

because yeah, nona does fuck up the recording

but this is good for us, because we get to hear a camolive conversation that was recorded before

they're discussing why they'd want harrow, what use they have for a lyctor in their power

they think it doesn't have to do with the "RB" and that coronabeer isn't lying when saying that judith is kept due to her being a way out

which reminds me, last time I thought 'if judith hears this necro stream, she's gonna bolt from that place with her IVs still on and half her guts out'

palmolive then feels really bad for eating up camilla's life energy

and camilla says "I've carried you, Warden. And I've carried your memory...I'd rather carry you."

and "Love and freedom don't coexist, Warden."

"We are one flesh" "I am your end"

"I hope you know that I adore you, Scholar"

"Indubitably, Warden"

girllllllllllllllllllllllllll is this a beautiful qpr or what??????????????????

I don't know if it's meant as a qpr but that's what I'm picking up from what it's being thrown down and I'm gonna go with it

IS THIS A BEAUTIFUL QPR OR WHAT???????????????

sixth house qpr forever

goals tbh

anyway, nona then hears a bit of an earlier recording of her and camilla finds her listening

but camilla isn't worried about that, because we've got bigger problems atm

when don't we have bigger problems in this book series, though

remember when all the problems we had was that harrow was being a dick to gideon?

good times

(also, small pause, since I went there, we're over here wondering if this is harrow's soul or gideon's soul or ice cube barbie's soul

and like, those are three very not normal individuals

one is a baby blender, another is tlt jesus and the last one I'm unsure of yet but the lyctors were afraid of her, so she can't be normal

so, who's surprised this is a soul and body mess

when you combine that with lyctor shenanigans????

anyway, footnote over)

camilla says pyrrha has been gone for 24 hours and they need to start looking for her

she also mentions having not seen the broadcast which is 1) very bad for my nerves and 2) a very badly planned tactic by yandere twin, since a part of the message was aimed at the gang

but when you're a lyctor prince living in the emperor's bolthole and, before that, you were a third house princess, maybe you don't think that putting up some screens and repeating the message a couple times will mean accessibility to all in times of war

anyway, I can't roast yandere twin too much because you guys love her and sometimes get mad that I roast her

I can't promise I won't do it again, though

camilla thinks that pyrrha's choice of allegedly going to the shuttle was last minute because she didn't take her guns

nona "really truly" needs to go to school first, though, because she wants to check on people and because angel teacher asked her

camilla is ok with it because she wants to thank angel teacher personally for taking nona home safely

we're all very thankful for that

camilla tells nona that, after, there will be no more school and no more seeing her friends

I forgot at this point when the birthday party was supposed to be but, guess it's a no-go

she lives in a cumple every day anyway, she doesn't need an extra birthday party

nona proceeds to talk to varun in the sky and asks them for help in these trying times, tells them not to do anything weird because there's enough going on right now

what if varun is actually sentient and is "really truly" listening to nona when she talks to them and this matters later on?

making friends in high places, am I right?

*crickets*

walking down the streets the day after the broadcast seems like walking on top of a pan that's in the process of making popcorn

all the kids are at school except for born in the morning (sorry, born in the morning) and sriracha girlie

ruby and honesty hug nona and almost spill the beans of her running away to go to the necro music festival in front of camilla

which would have been beneficial to me, personally

nona asks them not to tell, which makes me want to spray water in her face

nona takes kevin's little hand while he's playing with the zipper of his jacket with the other

we love kevin

I want to adopt this child

my cv for the sixth qpr polycule will come with an appendix form in the back which is actually kevin's adoption papers

if someone hurts kevin, I swear I'm gonna lose my mind

DON'T TELL ME

everyone is very jealous of the fact that sriracha girlie got to spend the night in angel teacher's place and was driven there by an actual driver

ruby tells nona not to worry about pyrrha, because pimping is a complicated job that sometimes takes the whole night

they proceed to argue about whether or not it's tactful to talk about the intricacies of pimping

angel teacher and sriracha girlie arrive together soon after

everyone is worried about born in the morning (sorry, born in the morning) because they think his dads must have joined up to fight

camilla proceeds to thank angel teacher and she responds by inviting her in to what might be the last day of school

ruby has a complicated relationship with his mom at this moment because she wants to accept the houses terms out of fear

sriracha girlie calls her "weak"

I get the mixed feelings, though, these are kids and this isn't something any kid should be pondering on

angel teacher is very wise and very right about a lot of things and tells them that it isn't what you say, it's what you do that matters

and isn't that a truth people forget all the time

sriracha girlie is trying to argue with that, because her background makes her angry and distrustful, which is understandable

sriracha girlie would 100% be chief of security on the enterprise

angel teacher says they don't have to engage in a fight, they have to find cover and mentions she is from lemuria

camilla and I: ???????

for what I understand, they were the third settlement of people sent in to sort of "colonize" what they thought was the remnants of long lost cities

shit hit the fan when the sea lost oxygen and things started coming out from there, which mutated

the houses were like "our job here is done" and left them to fend for themselves

when the settlement started to use the stuff they found, the houses came back for it

they won the battle for it and re-settled the people

angel teacher was a zoo director there, which means I was sort of right last time

I still think there's some important bit of info on angel teacher, though, something not yet revealed

"If you think in black and white your brain can't be agile" she says

it's refreshing to find some adults who say stuff that is worth nodding along to and isn't some insane stuff about murdering planets for energy, you know

wild seeing this side of the situation

angel teacher proceeds to use the last class to teach the kids how to stay out of trouble by making a map of the areas to avoid, areas that are safe and a hiding spot

during this part, we find some remnants of places that aren't there anymore due to the fights against the cohort

like the water plant and the terraced graveyard

the graveyard is a hard no because angel teacher says people will shoot first and ask later and will be alert looking for necromancers

"'What we know is that we don't know anything.' Nona quite liked this motto. It was an accurate summary of her entire life."

when she talks about the southgate being a safe place, nona repeats what camilla told her about the reasons why that is and angel teacher goes "An interesting group, your family"

sometimes a family is a cavalier in the body of her necro who used to be a lyctor, a qpr sharing one body in turns and a girl who is in a cumple and might or might not be one of three weird ass people

nona is both lilo and stitch

sriracha girlie shares her secret hiding spot, which she's very proud of, and tells people not to steal stuff from it

especially honesty, who wants to sell everything he finds

the hiding spot is a watchtower

I sure hope nothing bad happens there

I have a bad feeling about it

angel teacher brings up the fact that this time there's a lyctor

and not just any lyctor

the lyctor prince

the saint of awe

aka the only one left

also, just, coming back to yandere twin and chad for a sec

(I know I said I wouldn't but, I need to come back to this)

I remember dr reverend emperor john the joke of a man said once that the nicknames weren't referring to the necros but their cavs

so am I supposed to understand that 'awe' is for chad????

did they ask him and he said he wanted "awesome" to be his title and they shortened it out of cringe?

so, the lights go out and a generator kicks in, which won't last for long, so the kids are allowed to raid the fridge

(you wouldn't guess where the hecko that illustration is from, my brain is an intricate maze)

nona thinks camilla is gonna want to leave now, but she's very busy writing stuff down in a very intense manner

angel teacher says she has "a lot of bosses"

this person's true identity becomes more and more mysterious the more I know

world's most influential vet

nona picks up everyone's drawings from the previous day and is able to identify them by their content, which says a lot about every kid

and nona, as we have established, might be in a cumple but is also very observant of people around her

the thing is though that when angel teacher sees nona's drawing, she almost has a heart attack

sadly for me and my need for straightforward information, she doesn't ask anything or describe anything or makes any form of explanation of what the shit is in the drawing

sriracha girle offers to take care of everyone and their families if they need to retreat to the safe hiding spot

even ruby's mom

which is so nice and would be very wholesome if I wasn't dreading every time they mention the safe hiding spot and wondering if things are gonna go terribly there

they all put their hands together to swear loyalty to each other

kevin has to put his underneath, because he can't reach too high

I want to protect him at all costs

he even says "kevin" instead of I swear, like a pokemon

they laugh at him about it and he says "Don't make fun of Kevin"

I would kill for kevin istg

yandere twin, you touch one hair out of kevin's head with your regenerated sex arm and I'm gonna go feral

born in the morning (sorry, born in the morning) returns for the last moments of swearing to protect each other and they help him get home after

sriracha girlie says he'll come to them when his fathers die

"His dads are baggage"

you're allowed to be less intense, sriracha girlie, chisus christ

THAT'S IT FOR THIS ONE!!! I'll get to the next one after the real life adult problems of the week (aka potential work meeting that I hope goes well and doctor's appointment I also hope goes well). See you in the next one and have an amazing week!! ♥

[slimybeth69]

Touch: Part 7

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary: Your future with Din seems bleak in the darkness of the ship, that is...until it's not so dark anymore.

Warnings: Consume at your own risk. No tags due to chapter spoilers. Non-spoiler disclaimer- Scenes from the Mandalorian season 3. The story arc diverts from canon, but it does follow the series pretty closely for a couple chapters.

wc: ~13k

a/n- sorry for another no tag/warning chapter. if you need to see a list of the potential things in here, refer back to the series masterlist to see what tags could be upsetting to you.

a/n pt 2: I try so hard to make sure that this is formatted correctly, and makes sense and flows well. I work on the dialogue a little bit-- and it's gonna have mistakes and maybe a spelling error. UNBETA'ED PROOFREAD BY TIRED EYES.

Sleep doesn't come to you easily that night. The only thing you can feel is the shattering of your heart- and it's turning into real, physical pain. It's like something alive and venomous crawled inside your stomach, and is twisting, stinging— biting you, as it moves all around, making you feel sick.

You wonder what Mando is doing now while you lay here all alone in the silence of your room— he probably is sitting in the cockpit, driving you right back to Cantonica. That's probably exactly what he did when he got up and left without a word! Turned the ship around so he could drop you off at Canto Bight Casino.

You could be a tender again, maybe a waitress too. Maybe your room in that woman's house was still available. You still had some credits saved up from before.

You'd be okay.

Everything was going to be just fine now that you didn't have to worry about Mando coming to ask to touch and watch, or put things inside you that weren't him- even though you've never stopped thinking about him, and those nights you shared together. They run through your mind at least once a day— sometimes more.

Mando won't bother you in the night to call you nice, sweet things, and to make your heart feel bigger and also lighter at the same time, somehow. Mando won't come to touch you and watch you and make between your legs feel things. too. Good things. Amazing things. 

Eventually, after every single tear left inside of you has been cried out, you drift off to sleep.

The heat that wakes you up isn't confined to just your upper arm like it had been the night you came home from the temple. It encapsulates you, it overtakes everything that you are, and you love it because it's familiar.

You hum, ignoring all the sadness and anger that had been inside of you just hours ago before your teary eyes closed for the last time that night.

Strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you in close. A calm, pacifying voice whispers, "You think I do not care for my little one?"

"You're mad at me," you murmur, pushing your body back against his as tightly as you can, savoring in all of this. "Gonna leave me," you almost whimper, stealing all of the warmth you can from him, even though it's almost too much.

Hands as hot as the sun roam across the supple, soft curves of your body through your clothing. It's hard to think about anything other than the way he feels pressed against you like this, the way that his fingers tease you, tugging the hem of your shirt just over the of soft, gentle curve of your stomach before his hands move to your thighs, or up over your chest to your neck.

He is all over you, and you feel drunk because of—Mando!

"Get out—" you huff, pushing his exploring hands off your eager and excited body. "-of my—"You've betrayed yourself at the hands of a trickster! A slithering sneak who slips into your bed under the veil of the void. "-bed!"

It's probably he fact that you're twisting and turning, pushing against him, and trying to get him out of your bed that brings an urgency to his explanations. Din grips both of your wrists in his hands, his fingers closing around them completely.

"Listen to me, please, pretty girl in her white dress," His soft whisper in your ear melt your spine into liquid that pools somewhere in the core of you. The words, and the way he says them so softly, smooth like the richest velvet you've ever felt, quell the rage inside of you. “You need to understand that I have to wear my helmet,but I would show you if it would tell you how much I care."

There is no inflection, or teasing in his voice. The Mandalorian is serious, and it makes your heart almost still completely in your chest.

“Mando—"

“If you call me Mando again," his voice growls in your ear, but he sounds almost hurt or offended, like he can't believe you're still calling him that. "Offers revoked."

Shit.

There isn't enough time for you to say anything else before he continues.

"I left earlier because I was upset with you…for being upset with me," he starts, his lips pressed to your ear tightly so he makes sure you can hear him. "I was selfish, I should have stayed here with you," he sighs, his breath plumes against the side of your face, and you inhale to take in the sweet scent of him, and it makes your head spin.

This isn't how you wanted this to happen! Din was supposed to show you his face because he wanted to, not because you guilt him into doing it!

The last two years you thought of all the ways you could get him to show you his face and now, you only want one way. For him to want to show you. Not because you made him feel badly for not showing you.

Maker!

“Din, you don’t have to show me— this isn't what I want.” There is hesitation in your voice because you're reluctant to say it, but it's the truth

Din stiffens behind you, his grip on your wrist goes slack, but his mouth stays pressed to your ear.

Everything in the ship is quiet besides him breathing quietly.

“You’re right, though. I should have shown you before I left, like I showed Grogu. I hoped the talk we had the night before was enough. You said you’d do it for free, and I thought…” Din trails off.

You hate when he does that. You never need to. All your thoughts are front and center at all times ready to be said fully at any given moment. And he’s always searching inside that head for something to say.

“I hoped the meaning behind me making Luke and Ahsoka let you stay was worth more than words," he breathes against the shell of your ear.

If you’re really thinking back on it right now in this bed…the man did wait two years for you. Beskar-man got you a pretty focus crystal, said he’d get you a lightsaber to put it in. Took you into his clan earlier…he’s never done that before.

He said he came to visit, and was denied entry.

Din only mirrored your reaction getting off the return ship to the hangar to see him. 

Shit.

"Why did you hope it would be enough?" It comes out a whisper, and croaked because of how dry your mouth is.

It feels like the ship hit turbulence, but really, it's just your body trembling— vibrating in anticipation.

What could he mean?

Din's breath grows shaky, like he might be just as scared as you. He starts to say something, but is so hesitant now, like maybe this was too scary, even for Din. 

There isn't a time that you can remember him being scared- not that you've seen at least.

"What if you don't like it— what if you don't like me?" He finally says, and the words stab you right in the heart. "Would you still… do all of this for free?"

Din releases your wrists from his grasp; you hadn't even realized he was still holding on to you because you had stopped fighting him the minute he asked. He places his hands on top of your shaking ones, and slips his fingers in the spots between yours.

Deep down you are kind of scared because…what if you don’t like it? 

What if he was warning you that first night about you doodles that he didn’t look the way that you thought? 

What if he puts that helmet on and never takes it off because what’s under it isn’t nice to look at?

What if the man who has been touching you, and being so good to you; who you think you could potentially be in love with…isn’t what you want to look at?

What do you do then?

Din can put that helmet back on all he wants, but you’ll know.

You’ll know, and you’ll never be able to un-know what his face looks like. 

Maker. Maker. Maker.You are a special star- you are. A sick star!

This is unfair. Absolute shit timing, and situation.

Putting you in this position to know? How dare Din, and Maker himself, do this to you!?

Even though this is all you want!

Just not like this!

Another part of you thinks that you couldn’t ever not care for the man who is under that helmet. Despite his looks, right? You’re not shallow, not really. As you think back on it right now, he’s done everything for you, and is willing to do the most everythingright now. By showing you his face.

How do the clans of Mand'alor work? What is their religion? Who are the people of that planet that had been destroyed so long ago?

Bathe in the living waters. What’s livingin the waters? Why does he have to wash himself in them?

You’re unsure. If it was explained in the cave— you blacked out for a minute looking at the nice sand. It felt like you had sand in your ears for most of the conversation.

It's no wonder you don’t know shit about fuck-all right now.

You stare at the wall in front of you, looking at all the rivets and welds that keep this giant, metal monstrosity together while it flies through the sky—

Hold on just one Maker-loving second! You can see things!?

There are all different shades of blue and purple and white filling the room. You tilt your head up and look out the windows, and all those colors are streaking past so quickly, it's all a blur. It's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You realize how fast you're moving when you look at it.

If you turned around right now…you'd be able to see Din. His voice has been non-modulated this whole time, his warm cheek and scratchy facial hair has been present against the side of your head since you woke up.

You shut your eyes so tight it almost hurts,

You flip around in Din’s arms, and pepper kisses across his entire face because you can. He's right here in your bed, and you can touch him, feel him, kiss him as much as you want- but you won't look.

You start speaking quickly, urgently— because you feel like such an ass, such a dumb idiot for because you were selfish. Everything he did for you, starting from the notebook, the credits to go to the market, the opportunity given to only you to train with the Jedi? How many others get that? The focus crystal?

He also could have completely kept you in the dark about all of this. Made you stay on the ship while the Armor lady Mandalorian reamed his ass out for taking off that stupid helmet.

Din didn't do that though, he gave you an opportunity to hear the truth and now, he's offering to show you his face.

“Din, I’m so sorry. I’ve been so ungrateful. I care for you so much- with the helmet. It’s enough. You’re enough with the helmet.” You keep your eyes shut tight–and you're glad you do, because you could cry again. You feel so foolish for not appreciating him more."

“Open your eyes, little one in the white dress. Please, before it’s too late and I have to put it back on again for good.” Din moves his face closer to you, the tip of his nose touching yours, his warm breath on your lips.

Din kisses you lightly, his lips are so soft, and so warm just like the rest of him. His hand gently presses into the small of your back.

“Is it going to change everything?” You mumble against his lips, worried.

You're worried everything’s going to be different. What does all this mean? You'll get to see his face once, and then never again? 

Do you get beskar’gam like Grogu did? Do you have to learn Mando’a? Because it’s hard! You hear Din speak it sometimes, and it sounds so hard to learn!

You don’t know anything, and you can’t find the strength in your lungs to make the words come out. What is going on? This is a dream. Has to be.

“I don’t want it to change. I want you to rest your head down at night knowing I care,” Din nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours gently. "Rest your head down on me at night— every night."

You exhale loudly—

"Were you holding your breath?" Din chuckles, and steals another quick kiss before you can say anything, or even react to what he said, “This way you know, you can stop wondering. You’d have something to think about besides the helmet.” Din’s voice is so soothing.

If your heart wasn’t about to speed out of your chest and hide somewhere else in the ship his voice could lull you to sleep.

“I willhave to leave again, like before, but I’ll ask you to come when it’s not too dangerous. I won’t keep you trapped here like before.” Din’s offering all you want. To be with him sometimes off the ship. To come with him.

“You want me to look?” You ask again.

This is really going to happen this is not a dream.

Din’s one-million-degree body lets you know that you're not still asleep. This is all really happening, and you’re going to see him for the first and probably last time. That’s okay with you.

Honestly, he could tell you he’s too nervous— and you’d say that you were too and you could both just go to sleep. Your heart, dear Maker, your heart is beating and pounding so fast, there is no way he cannot feel it pressed up against you like this. 

“Yes. Please look. I want you to see.” Din speaks so softly and so calmly and he doesn’t sound nervous or uncomfortable anymore. Just amazed to be here sharing this little bed with you. 

The calm quietness of the ship is ruined by screaming alarms. Loud ones. Bright, flashing lights fill the ship.

Everything inside of you feels like I could jump right out and lay beside you on the bed.

As fast as the alarms went off, you and Din start scrambling, limbs flailing. Your elbow connects with something hard, and then Din groans loudly.

"Did I!?" You exclaim, already knowing what you've done.

You clamor out of the bed Din is already standing beside, and has his hands covering his nose and most of face.

But you can see his eyes, and they’re dark and perfect—and he’s bleeding.

Fuck.

Everything is so loud, it feels impossible even form one single helpful thought with the alarms going off, you just stand there looking dumbstruck.

Din runs out of the room with blood dripping from his hands and elbows leaving little droplets on the ground.  You run into the main hull and look for some sort of first aid kit to help the man whose nose you just probably broke, but you see nothing.

The hallway back to your room is flashing red and white over and over and you think you’re going to pass out. It’s so fucking loud.

There is blood dripping all down the hall to where Din took off, probably the cockpit.

The kid is wailingfrom his room and now you’re on the verge of tears too. Grogu can wait. You need to clean up this blood first. You forget where everything is on the ship, your memory embarrasses you while you try to remember how to clean something up. You’re not thinking clearly. It’s so loud and so overwhelming. Oh, Maker. 

The alarms and the lights stop, and finally there is some semblance of calm.

It's so much easier to think clearly when the ship isn't screaming at you. Cleaning supplies are in the dining area, under the sink.

The drops of blood are focused mainly in the sleeping quarters. You can think again. You start to grab everything you need and start the job of cleaning the mess.

The whole ship rumbles enough rock you from side to side gently, and you hear the hydraulics of an opening door below you. There must be a carrier down there, but you're not completely sure.

There wasn't much Din wasn't willing to show you, but he said one door in this new ship was off limits to Grogu and you- while you were still angry with him- so you didn't even question him.

Where is Din going though? Why didn’t he come say goodbye?

Cleaning the little droplets of blood that start in the bedroom next to your bed, you work you way out into the hallway.

While you're cleaning, your mind races with what happened in the bedroom just a couple minutes ago. With everything that happened between him asking you to look, and right now, it feels like a lifetime has passed.

Din Djarin- the mystery man with a helmet and a secret face. A secret life that you know nothing about, as much as you wished you knew, Din doesn't talk about his life.

There hadn't been much for you to share about your life, either. So, the both of you had just fallen into a routine of being comfortable in each other's presence, touching and talking about easy things.

Grogu has stopped crying, but you’ll still go check on him in a minute. It’s just too much with the blood and the kid and the bleeding man. 

As you stand up Din rounds the corner in his full beskar minus his gloves—

With a woman…who is also in beskar. Her armor is nowhere near as loose fitting as Din’s, and doesn’t leave anythingto the imagination. She is beautiful with shoulder length red hair, and perfect lips that fit her face so well. She's a couple inches taller than you, but most of the people in beskar you've met are larger than you in some way.

“This is Bo-Katan.” Din's rasp cuts through the awkward silence that fills the ship. “I need to go with her for a while, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Then we will go to Nevarro. I’ve already turned the autopilot on so we’ll be closer when I get back. I won’t be long.”

Your eyes flick between Din and this woman, Bo-Katan. “Okay…” You force an uncomfortable, and awkward smile. Suddenly, you feel very exposed in only your nightgown. “Have…fun…okay.” You turn and walk into Grogu’s room and try to shut the door.

There isn’t enough space for you, and you have to stand on his little tiny bed to shut it. Now you’re standing on your tip toes, feet angled and shifting so they don’t step on the baby - who is now staring up at you, confused as to why you're in here, and possibly how. You don’t know how you got in here, either.

You’re pretty sure this is a broom closet that Din put a little tiny bed in.

Oh Maker.

Din and a woman? Out in the galaxy together? Alone? Doing what exactly? He didn’t explain.

You scoop the child into your arms and open the door, peering out into the hallway.

It's empty, so you take this opportunity to scurry down the hall towards the room you and Din share.

Bo-Katan comes out of one of the weapons rooms as you try and sneak by, and slam right into her.

Grogu makes an annoyed, sleepy warble and curls up into your arms.

“I’m so sorry," you apologize and hold your hand out and it lands right on her left tit. You stare at your hand on her breast for several seconds before removing it. “I’m so sorry about that, too.” You look at her. Your lips pressed tightly together. “I’m so sorry. I just woke up.” You lie and purse your lips again and point past her to the room one door past the weapons room. “That’s my room," talking for no reason is what you're doing.

You also just touched her boob.

Which is exactly what Din was probably running off to do with her in the night!!

“It’s okay. Don’t be sorry, I’m the one who crashed your slumber party.” She winks at you. She’s so pretty. Her pretty red hair and her perfectly shaped lips. You’ll have to ask Din later if she’s a good kisser or not.

Humph.

You hate Bo-Katan— Not really. She was wonderful– but why did she wink at you?

Why is Miss Pretty red hair and perfect lips here in the night winking at you? Because she can come in whenever in the night and steal Din right from under you?

Because she sure did. Stole him right out of your bed and made you possibly break his nose. She made you miss your opportunity to see the lower half of his face. 

“Where’s your helmet?”You blurt the question out suspiciously before you can even stop yourself from thinking about asking her. You just noticed that she had perfect hair and pretty lips and now, you’re just saying the first thing that comes to your head apparently. It just came out all fast and dumb, you couldn’t even control it. “I’m so sorry, again. That was so rude.” You’re so embarrassed. Could just crawl right into any one of these nameless holes in this ship and die kind of embarrassed. You’re here blurting out questions to the beautiful Bo-Katan in your nightgown that you realize now has some blood on it. Shit. 

“No, it’s okay! Don’t be sorry.” She shakes her head and puts a gloved hand on your shoulder. You look down at it and she removes it slowly but you wish she hadn’t. She was so gentle and small and felt nice. “I’m not from the same clan as Mando. We just bear different religions and ideas. I don’t have to sport mine all the time.” Bo-Katan winks at you again! Why is she winking at you!? “Our ideals aren’t as severe and old-fashioned as his.” 

Din himself comes from around the corner as she says this as you flick your head to him. He looks between the two of you and Grogu who has passed out again in your arms. 

“I’m sleeping with him tonight.” You say for no reason. Din nods and puts his second glove on. “I’ll see you…soon?” Din nods again and presses his forehead to yours, one hand on the back of your neck. He holds you there.

See this Bo? Hmm? Do ya? 

Din lets you go and rambles off the list. 

“Be safe. Don’t let anyone on. Don’t get off. I’ll be back tonight. Soon. Hopefully.” Din nods and then looks down at Bo-Katan. She is still looking at you, smiling softly. 

“I’ll make sure he gets back to you. Don’t fret.” You wait for her to wink again but she doesn’t this time. She puts another gentle hand on your shoulder; as if she’s trying to comfort you? Maybe she feels bad for you? Because she's about to go touch him like you do!? What is happening? Din gave youforehead touches, which you assume is a sign of affection from him to you when he can’t take his helmet off. You like it. 

Bo-Katan…and her helmet-less head. Who is this woman? How does Din know her? She’s an associateof his. You wonder how oftenand how wellthey’ve been associated.She was nice to you though. And gave you a gentle touch. 

Are you…touch starved?

The thought starts racing through your head as they walk down the hallway.

Why did her touch feel so good? So comforting. And that’s dumb because Din waited two years– Did Din wait for two years? Oh, my Maker. Was this a woman who he had been gallivanting around the stars with while his paid babysitter and touch womanwas indisposed? 

No. 

That didn’t happen. Nope. Not even a little bit. is just someone Din knows. Din can know people. You know people. You know Luke and Ahsoka. And Grogu. And some kids from the temple. And that guy from the sweets shop in the Outdoors Market or whatever it was called. Hmph. You had friends too. Din’s not the only one with friends. Hmph. 

You look around the room that’s still being streaked in all the pretty colors and you take all the blankets and lay them out on the floor. You lay Grogu down next to you and his eyes open. He makes a fascinated, intrigued warbling sound. 

“I know. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You whisper down to him.

He holds your index finger in his three little claws while you watch the stars pass by.

“Well...you’ve seen Din’s eyes, right?” You lift your head to look at Grogu and he coos softly. “Yeah, so those are the most beautiful, and then this is a close second.” You explain quietly.

The baby makes a sound like he could be agreeing with you.

“I know. They are so dark. And his forehead, Grogu.  And his hair. It was so curly and messy and dark.” You start listing off all the things you saw on Din’s face to Grogu who listens happily.

Grogu makes a shocked warble sound that stops you from your rambling list of things you saw.

"He does have a beard. I saw it tonight!" You exclaim. "When was the last time you saw his face? So long ago, it was. I saw him tonight, little green child," you taunt him.

Grogu blinks up at you silently.

"I don't mean to rub it in, I'm sorry," you cradle him to your side and press a kiss to the top of his head. "I just really can't believe it."

You look out the window and sigh. “Do you know Bo-Katan?” You ask the baby who can’t really answer you. He warbles softly. “Is she a good lady? Is she nice and trustworthy? She’ll keep him safe for us?” You look at Grogu again, but he’s asleep next to you. Fell asleep listening to your voice. 

You love Grogu. A real love. Dying for this child would be something you’d do easily. If you knew it would protect him. Grogu snuggles into you as you tuck him into the blankets and snuggle in yourself. It’s hard on the floor. It reminds you of the Crest and your mat. It makes you think of the first time Din ever touched you in the dark.

Sleep comes to you with all the blues and purples streaking overhead. 

“Little one..." Din's calm and quiet voice whispers in your ear as you feel him climb into the makeshift bed on the floor. “It’s me.” He sinks beside you and rests his head on your chest. “Touch my hair.” More quiet, non-modulated whispering.

You bring one hand sleepily to his messy, dark curls and twirl your fingers in it mindlessly. Din sighs, and relaxes against you. The child is still on the other side of you asleep. You’ve got your other arm wrapped around him.

“Is your nose okay?” You whisper to Din through a yawn. “Did I break it?” You try to sound apologetic in your sleepiness because you do feel bad. You never want to hurt Din.

Unless he’s trying to spar or fight you.

He had been being so sweet and trying to show you his face, and you hit him all because of Bo-Katan. 

“It’s fine.” Din murmurs from your chest, like he could be falling asleep. “Not broken.” A sigh and he’s got one hand on your stomach, touching your belly button under the blankets, tracing around it slowly. “W-Want to see?” You feel his body shake softly like he’s laughing.

The weight of his head lifts from your chest. You tilt your head and Din is looking up at you. He’s got one black eye and there’s blood still crusted under one nostril. You laugh at him and let your head fall back to the pillows. 

“Are you sure it’s not broken?” You smirk, your hands still in his hair. “You’re so handsome, even with the black eye and the blood.”

Din chuckles and pulls you into him by your waist, “C’mere.”

You make him rest his head back on your chest and continue to spin his hair in your fingers. You think of his face and how you just saw it and it felt so much more natural and exactly how you had wanted him to show you. Casual. Din cares. You can feel it in your heart now. “Perfect and beautiful.” You whisper into the blue-tinted darkness. “You are.” You wait for a response but Din’s already asleep on your chest. 

The next morning, Din pulls the hood over your head and covers Grogu with your robes. The child is sitting comfortably in his little bag that’s slung over your shoulder. You watch Din’s helmet as he focuses. 

“Am I going to hear any news that might upset me?” You smirk up at him as he clasps the robe closed around your neck with a small metal pin. His helmet snaps up and you can feel his eyes on you. His perfect dark eyes. 

“Stop that.” Din presses his forehead to yours. “No. Maybe. I don’t know?” He sighs, “You can’t get angry with me anymore. It’s the rules.” Then he shrugs his shoulders like he has no say in the matter. 

“You make the rules!” You exclaim.

Din nods down at you as he pulls away. “So follow them. Listen to me. Stay close.” Din rattles off more instructions as you walk down the ramp together.

This planet is nice. It’s got a nice town center and Din leads you down a stone pathway.

“Don’t stray, please.” His gloved hand reaches out for you as you take a couple of steps forward.

It’s been such a long time since you’ve been in a place with so many things, places and people to look at, it's hard to not be overwhelmed and want to explore. The city looks like it's in the process of being rebuilt, buildings are in the process of rising higher into the sky

“This is Nevarro?” You ask, looking up at Din as he looks around in the crowds.

He nods and keeps his head swiveling back and forth, observing. "It used to be a hub for pirates and the Bounty Hunter Guild, but the High Magistrate is trying to change that now." He leads you to a droid statue that’s standing tall in the center of town. "Make it nicer for the citizens that live here."

"That's very nice of the High Magistrate," you continue to watch the people walking by, and the buildings and shops that line the street.

“He’s what we came here for.” Din points at the nonoperational droid now in front of you. 

“What’d you need him for?” You raise an eyebrow and shield your eyes from the sun as you look up at the droid Din pointed to. “He’s a statue.” You point that part out to him.

Din tilts his head down to you. It’s almost like you can sense that his patience with you is worn thin already. You smile regardless, because you've seen his face, and he wouldn't show his face to just anyone. It brings you a sense of pride to know that he trusts you, cares for you enough to have let you see him like that.

and bring your hand back to your side. It slips into your robe and you rub your fingers along Grogu’s ears. He gives you a satisfied sound of enjoyment as you do. 

“Where are we going now?” You ask Din excitedly as he leads you into the crowd. His strong hand finds your upper arm and he holds you close to him. “Are we going somewhere nice? Ooh! Somewhere we can get food!?” You exclaim, seeing a bakery. “Din. Din. Din. Din.” You point to the tarts and sweets in the window excitedly.

Din pushes you past the bakery, obviously in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Okay… But I want to go there before we leave.” You look back at it over your shoulder. It’s been so long since you’ve had anything that wasn’t a bowl of broth or rations. 

“Fine. We have to be somewhere now though.” Din continues to lead you through the crowd. You catch people's eyes and smile at them politely. It’s nice to be out in the world again. Not on a ship caring for a child or in a Jedi temple getting whacked with sticks. It feels good to be integrated with the galaxy again. Not just looking at it through windows. 

“Mando!” A voice calls out from behind you. You and Din both spin around. “I heard you were back, but I didn’t believe it.” The man in gold and red robes booms as he walks towards you. 

“Magistrate Karga.” Din rasps from behind the modulator. Your eyes look up to Din as he talks. You’re unsure if he likes this person yet.

“That’s High Magistrate to you.” The man laughs and slaps Din on the shoulder. 

“My aliit.” Din speaks a word of Mando’a that you’re not familiar with as he gestures to you. You’ll ask later. Grogu peeks out from behind the robe as the four of you walk into the building Din had been leading you to before the Magistrate stopped you.

Din walks with Karga up the stairs and they speak quietly to one another. You follow with Grogu still behind your robes. They lead you into a large room with a giant balcony. The High Magistrate motions for you and Grogu to sit in the chair behind his desk as he and Din walk outside the doors and look over the city.

Grogu climbs out of the bag and sits in your lap. You’re suddenly being spun around slowly. You see Grogu holding his little hand out. You try to stop him, push his hand down into his lap or something but your chair is still spinning. You put your feet down onto the floor to try and halt yourself but you just end up kicking a metal trash can from under the desk with a loud crash. 

The chair slows down and when it finally stops, Din and the Magistrate are staring at you. Grogu’s head won’t stop turning from side to side like he is still moving. You’re still dizzy, if we’re being completely honest. The room is still moving in your eyes and you just smile at Din and Karga. Holding Grogu in your lap. The trash can is still spinning beside you. 

“Sorry. It’s hard to stop him when he’s focused on something.” It comes out stuttered and nervous. “He’s just…bein’ a kid.” You pet the top of Grogu’s head softly and he makes a purring warble you’ve never heard before. You look down at him and he’s chewing on something from the Magistrates desk. “I am…so sorry.” You press your lips together tightly and attempt to take whatever the child has in his mouth away from him but he holds on tight. “Do not...embarrass me.” You whisper into his ear and pull– what you come to find is a tracking beacon– out of his mouth and set it back onto the desk in a puddle of slimy saliva. “So so sorry.” 

Din hasn’t moved, or stopped looking in your direction once since he and Karga turned around.

The Magistrate looks at you up and down and then at the child in your lap. “...as I was saying… There’s a lot of money to be made on Nevarro. Set you and your group up in a nice tract over by the hot springs.” Karga points out over the small town and out onto the edge of the city. “You, the woman, the child. Hang up your blasters. Live off the fat of the land.” 

Is that why Din brought you here? To settle down? You’d have absolutely no issues with that at all. Being Din’s woman and Grogu’s mother doesn’t sound half bad. Sounds all good, actually. You see nothing wrong with this and love that Din brought you here to live with him. He’s so smart. Take his helmet off, settle down. You can try to bake tarts and sweets and breads like in the shoppe you passed earlier. 

“Grogu.” Din says curtly.

Karga looks at him oddly and then flicks his eyes at you. “Huh?” The Magistrate looks you up and down again like he can’t believe that’s your name. 

“His name is Grogu.” Din turns again and walks to you, taking the child out of your arms; leaving you just sitting in that nice comfy, spinning chair. All alone. Din walks back to Karga and holds him up. “Grogu.”

Karga curls a lip lightly and looks back at you once more before turning back to the town below him. “If you say so,” he doesn’t sound amused. “Like I said, there is a beautiful parcel down by the flats.” 

“I appreciate the offer, but I have matters to attend to.” Din explains, less curt and more in his normal, raspy soft tone.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. It was too good to be true. You knew it deep down inside you wouldn’t be staying here. Even if you do want to bake tarts and sew Grogu new robes in a nice little house with a yard to play in. 

“Oh? I’m…confused. I thought your mission was over, but you’re still with the chi—Grogu, and the woman I've heard about. They're still with you.” Karga waves a hand at you like you’re not there.

You sit quietly and watch, just happy to be involved. Happy to not be stuck on the ship, so they can talk about you like you're not here— because you could not be here. And you don't want it to go back to that.

“I completed my quest. My aliit returned to me. I removed my helmet and now I’m an apostate.” Your head turns to Din now, looking at him now instead of Karga. 

“All the more reason for you to stay here. Where you come from, you may be an apostate but here…but here you’d be landed gentry.” The Magistrate explains to Din as he looks down from the balcony. 

Karga is right and Din should listen to him. Stay here, on Nevarro. Din can watch as you bake him tarts and play with Grogu. It’ll be perfect. 

The door to the room opens and a droid walks in. Karga groans at the intrusion and lets his head fall back in frustration. The droid explains that there are pirates in the courtyard.

You stand but Din puts his hand on your shoulder and hands Grogu back to you. 

“Stay here. Don’t move.” Din sits you back down in your chair with the child.

You humph quietly, and are left alone in the High Magistrate's office.

There is a commotion down below the balcony right outside. You go to look because Din isn’t here to tell you not to. The balcony isn’t high, maybe three or four stories up. The wind blows the hood of your head as you peek over. You’re watching as Karga and Din walk side by side down the road in the center of the courtyard. They stop at a group of mismatched pirates outside of a building. You can’t hear what they say. 

Karga steps in front of Din and begins to speak to the pirates. Just talking. Din leans against a tree a couple of feet back from him and watches. They just talk for a while. Nothing crazy and then the pirate Karga has all his attention on; walks out into the street with his hands held out down to his sides. He speaks. You wish you could hear what he was saying. Din pushes himself off the tree he’s leaning against and takes two steps forward as the pirate talks to the High Magistrate. You swallow hard as Karga pulls his red and gold robes back away from his hip. You can see the blaster pistol strapped to his thigh even from all the way up here on the balcony. 

It’s so tense. People run past them on the street below you, a woman shouts for her kids to come inside. You swallow hard again as your free hand– the one not holding Grogu to your chest for dear life– grips the stone railing of the balcony. Everyone below looks like they’re frozen in place they’re still for so long. Your heart is pounding in your throat and then it happens. They both reach for their pistols but High Magistrate Karga is faster and unholsters his weapon, aims, and shoots all before the pirate can get his pistol up to his chest. Karga disarms him; shooting the blaster pistol right out of his hand. You let out a long sigh of relief as you can hear Karga say loudly enough,

“Tell Capitan Gorian Shard that Nevarro is no longer friendly to pirates. Now get outta here.” 

There is no movement from anyone below you. It makes your heart almost beat so fast you can’t feel it. Din moves his hand slowly to the blaster pistol on his waist and you hold your breath as you know what’s about to come. It happens so fast that you almost miss it when you blink. The rest of the pirates withdraw their weapons but Karga already has his own pistol out and Din had been fingering the trigger on his for at least thirty seconds before the pirates even reached to draw. Every single one of the pirates fell to the street except for the one Karga had disarmed first. The one he had been speaking to originally. 

The High Magistrate speaks again but you can’t hear him anymore. The pirate takes off running down the stone-laid street in the opposite direction. Din turns his head and sees you on the balcony. You wiggle your fingers at him from way up in the air and turn around, back into the office you were left in.

You set Grogu down in the chair and watch as he picks up little orange pieces of candy from a bowl on the desk and brings them to his mouth with the Force. 

“You cheat. You’re a cheater.” You say to him as you grab yourself a handful of candy and begin to pace, tossing them into your mouth as you think. They crunch delightfully between your teeth with a sugary coating and then the inside is fruity and chewy– you need to find out where the High Magistrate got these– they’re phenomenal. 

Din’s not taking any offer of land on Nevarro. It makes you sad but you enjoy your time on the ship. That’s your home, even if it doesn’t really feel like one. You live there, make memories there. Watch the child learn new things. You learn new things too. Inside the ship, you learn about Din. He wants to teach you how to pilot. You’ve seen his face even if it was all beaten and bloody by your elbow. Maybe Nevarro isn’t where you’re supposed to settle down if that was ever even an option. You don’t know.

You also need to learn more Mando’a. What had Din said to Karga and did Karga even know what he called you?

Grogu ate all of the candy out of the bowl on Karga’s desk. You may have helped- it was too good. You just kept scooping up handfuls and handfuls mindlessly as you paced his office. Grogu watched you from his place in the chair. 

“What did Din come here for? Did he tell you? I think he tells you more than he tells me.”

Grogu watches as you stand in front of the desk and talk to him.

“What does he need a broken-down droid for anyway? From what I can remember him saying long ago, he doesn't like droids...or they don't like him...or something about a dislike between Din Djarin and droids?” You rest your hands on the desk and lean into Grogu. “C’mon, kid... you've gotta give me something! Anything! What are we doin-”

The door to the office opens and you snap up, taking your hands off the desk. You bring them back up behind you and turn to see Din and High Magistrate Karga walking in. 

“Sorry about that, Mrs…” Karga looks at you and then glances back at Din, who says nothing to correct him. “Mrs.” He finishes. “Just had a couple of things to take care of.” He smiles at you apologetically for leaving you here in his office. You shake your head and take a small step to the left, showing him the empty bowl where candy used to be.

“I’m the one who should be sorry. Grogu ate all your candy.” It’s a lie. You ate it all. You couldn’t stop yourself. 

“Oh, it’s easy to get. They have it in stock down at the shop on the main road. I’ll send a droid to get more. Don’t worry.” Karga smiles at you, taking a couple of steps towards you. “Miss. Mando, it was a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard plenty about how exceptional you are with the ch-with Grogu while Din is away. Impressive. He’s a handful from what I can remember.” Karga is an attractive man, older with a dark complexion. His facial hair is white and contrasts beautifully against his skin. 

“Thank you.” You can feel yourself blushing for all different sorts of reasons. “He’s definitely a lot. Fun though. And a good bug catcher if I ever need one.” You smile up at Karga as he places a hand on your shoulder. 

“Don’t let Mando keep you out in the stars too long. Try to get him to accept my offer once he’s done with whatever matters he’s attending to.” It’s said quietly as if Karga didn’t want Din to hear him say that to you. Doesn’t matter, Din’s clearing his throat because he did. 

“Those service droids should have brought IG-11 in now, yes?” Din asks, walking to Grogu. He picks him up and cradles him in the crook of his elbow. Karga nods and keeps his hand on your shoulder as he leads you down the stairs. 

“I offered him the marshall position here in Nevarro.” The High Magistrate explains, again hushed as Grogu and Din follow behind. “If you can get him to change his mind, I’d also have a job for you here. There is plenty that needs to be done. You wouldn't be forgotten about, Miss. Mando.” 

Karga takes his hand from your shoulder and leads you all into a room. The top half of the droid statue Din showed you earlier is lying on a slab of metal in the center of the room. 

“Huh.” You look back at Din as he hands you the child. “You’re gonna fix it?” Din nods. You watch Din start pulling on wires, and removing things from the inoperative droid. “We need a droid I trust to help us explore Mandalore. This is that droid.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. We. Us. Mandalore. What’s he talking about?

“There. He’s hooked up to power.” Din says as you hold the child in your arms next to him. “Let’s see if we can wake him up.”

“Isn’t this an assassin droid?” Nervously, you look up at Din. He nods. “What are we doing with it then?” 

“Before I met you he was the one who took care of the child.” Din explains. He presses two wires together but nothing happens. You watch the droid's head and wait for movement, holding Grogu against you tightly. Nothing. 

“There you go.” Karga laughs and points to the droids pinchers at the end of his arms. 

“S-subparagraph sixteen-teen-teen of the B-B-Bondsman G-Guild p-protocal waiver.” IG-11 stutters as it sits up, its head twisting and turning right to you and Grogu. “Immediately p-produce said…” You look at Din with worry in your eyes as you turn the child away from the droid. IG-11 reaches for Grogu and you turn further away from it. “That b-b-bounty is mine.” You’re taking steps back but the droid has fallen off the slab and to the floor and is now crawling towards you. “Terminate asset. Terminate asset.” It’s repeating itself over and over. Now Din is shooting at it with his blaster pistol but it does nothing to stop the attacker directly in front of you.

“Miss. Mando!” Karga calls out as IG-11 reaches for and clasps around your ankle. It’s squeezing so tightly you’re sure it’s going to break your bones. It’s happening so fast. Karga holds his hands out and you toss Grogu to him. The droid immediately lets go of your ankle and starts crawling towards Karga with determination.

“Terminate asset.” IG-11 repeats over and over.

“Shoot it!” You shout at Din who is already shooting at it. The droid is about to pass under a large bust of High Magistrate Karga. Another droid, not IG-11 pushes the bust off the pillar it’s resting on and it falls onto the head of IG. 

“That’s one way to use your head.”

You stand next to Din with Grogu in your arms. You’re watching the Anzellans work on IG-11. Your ankle still hurts and you’re sure it’s probably already bruised. The little creature in front of you starts to talk in his native language. You understand everything and nod your head, pursing your lips together. 

“Huh.” You keep nodding.

“Uh…okay. I don’t understand. Do you speak Huttese?” Din shifts uncomfortably next to you. You look up at him with raised eyebrows.

“He said it broke.” You motion to the small creature who is still talking intermittently with the other Anzellans. You nod as you listen to them carefully.

“That’s no good. I need this one. This one is my friend.” Din speaks slowly to the creatures working on the droid so they’ll understand him.

“Mhm. Yeah…Okay.” You keep listening to the little creature speak. “Yeah. No. The memory circuit is busted. He said this droid is not your friend anymore.” You look up at Din. 

“How do you know what he’s saying?” He asks curiously. “Tell him to put in a new one.”

“I learned things while on Canto Bight.” You turn your nose up at him. “I know things.” You look back at the little creature and smile. You ask very nicely if he can put in a new memory circuit. The little man speaks up to you quickly. “Mhm.. really? Okay. Okay. No? Ohhhhh, okay.” You look back at Din and shake your head. “Not happening. The part you need is too hard to find. They don’t make them anymore. He said to buy a new droid. This one is…” You look back at the Anzellan in front of you and raise an eyebrow. He mutters something and you nod. “Poodoo.”You nod at Din. 

“Can they fix him without the memory circuit?” Din’s annoyed. The little creature pipes up now so Din can hear him. 

“Yeah. IG no think. No think.” His little accent is so cute. Din sighs.

“What if I bring you the part?” Din looks back at the little creature. 

“Oh. Then no problem. We fix.” The little man looks up at Din and says it so he can understand. 

“He said he can-” You start but Din shoots you a look. Grogu throws one of the Anzellan's wrenches across the room. He must have picked it up when you leaned over to listen and translate for Din. 

“I’m so sorry about that.” You apologize and reach for the wrench but Grogu grabs a chain hanging from the ceiling and pulls it as you walk by. It rattles loudly and something from above falls down to the ground. The Anzellans start to mutter again in their own language. “No. No. He’s not a pet. He’s a baby. He’s just young!” Now all the little creatures surround you as Grogu looks down at them from your arms. 

“Bad baby.” One of the little creatures says. Grogu throws another wrench you didn’t even know he had down at the creatures. They all scream and go running. 

“Yeah, he’s  a bad baby!” You growl down at Grogu who is still watching the Anzellans scatter down by your feet. “So bad.” 

Grogu is back in his bag. You have a bag of orange candy in one hand and a box of baked goods in the other hand. 

“Aren’t you so glad we stopped? They had those tarts! The same one from the market so long ago.” You look up at Din who is focused on getting you back into the ship. Din shakes his head and sighs. 

“Are you glad we stopped?” He looks down at you, one hand on your lower back as he gently pushes you through the crowd. You nod happily and lead him back to the ship. “Then I’m glad. C’mon. Speed up a little.” Din pushes his hand into your back and steps directly behind you. One gloved hand slides down and cups your ass while you're walking. It makes you blush. 

“What are you doing?” You whisper. Din doesn’t say anything, just gives your ass a nice squeeze or two before his hand moves to your back again. “Do it again.” You look around to see if anyone’s watching but no one is looking at you. Din slides his hand back down to your cheek, gripping it tightly as he presses his chest into your back. 

“Being bad.” He rasps into your ear as he continues to push you towards the ship.

Grogu is asleep in his bed. Din is waiting for you in the ship's dining area when you walk out after changing into your nightgown. 

“You look strong.” Din nods as you reach into the cupboard for your orange candy. You smirk and flex your bicep for him. 

“I’m getting lazy here on this ship with you. Eating candy and sweets.” You smirk at him and sit down at the table. You watch him puttering around with something from his beskar. The question you want to ask is a little scary, you don’t know if you want the answer. You ask anyway. “What does ‘aliit’mean?” The candy is just as good as it was in High Magistrate Karga’s office. “You called me that when you introduced me.” Munching happily on your sweets. Din doesn’t answer you for a couple of moments. 

“It means family.” The helmet tilts up to you and you freeze with a piece of candy in your hand. “I hope that it’s okay. Me addressing you like that.” Din looks at you. You toss the candy back into the bag and look at him. 

“Is that what we are to you? Grogu and I?” Din places his hand on yours as you speak and nods. “Then it’s fine. I like it.” A smile spreads across your face. “I liked Miss. Mando better but, it’s fine.” You tease as Din squeezes your hand gently. 

“C’mon. I wanna do something.” Din pulls you up from the table and leads you into the entry hull of the ship.

“What now? What could The Mandalorian want now?” Din tilts his head down to you and starts to unbutton the top of your nightgown. You watch and smirk down at him. “Ohh, what The Mandalorian always wants.” Din presses his forehead against yours as he slides the fabric off your shoulders. 

“You look strong enough for it now.” He rasps quietly.

Frowning, you pull your head away from his but his hands on your shoulders keep you close. “Strong enough for what? Do I want to know?” You’re nervous now. 

“I was too worried before. That I’d hurt you.” Din rasps from the modulator and pulls you in close, and presses his forehead against yours. “I didn’t want to hurt you but I think you can do it now.”

You’re still frowning. Hurt you? Do it? What is he talking about?

“What do you mean?” Din takes his helmet off and looks down at you and you almost cover your eyes with your hands but you remember you’ve seen it. He’s just as handsome as you remember. Even with a black eye. 

“Let me show you.” Looking at him while his non-modulated voice speaks is like standing under a waterfall you imagine. The weight of it just presses you into yourself. You feel so encapsulated by the deepness and softness and beauty of it. It drowns out all the other sounds you could hear.

Everything happens so fast. Somehow, the both of you are completely naked, even his helmet is off, and he has you sitting on the edge of the table in the dining area— his two thickest and longest fingers pumping in and out of you slowly, stretching you open for what you've been waiting so long for.

Din's forehead is resting against yours, his other hand is wrapped around the back of your neck holding you close to him as he pushes you closer and closer to that edge.

For the first time since you've met him- Din hasn't stopped talking.

"Don't want to hurt you," he whispers, his eyes locked onto yours. "Never want to hurt you."

You capture his words on your tongue and let them slide down your throat, and moan your own wanton desires out to him, "Want you to."

Din pulls back only an inch, giving you a perplexed look as his fingers curl against that spot inside of you once again, the heel of his palm now pressed and rubbing against your clit while he eases you back onto your elbows.

"Really, ad'ika? You want that?" His fingers move faster at the idea of bringing you some sort of pain that mingles with your pleasure.

The words what does that mean, leave your lips, but they're laced in with a moan, and a shiver through your whole body that makes it hard to actually speak.

"Means 'little one'," Din leans over your torso, his chest flush against yours. "You're my little one, yes? My ad'ika?"

Din is so beautiful. If you could etch his beauty into the back of your eyelids so he could be seen whenever you closed them, you would. You'd give all the credits you have saved, you would give years off your life just to know that there would be a place where you could look at him forever.

He was handsome in the dark that night when he showed you, but right now— it's well lit, and there is no sleepiness clouding your vision or hindering your ability to really be excited to drink him in.

And Din lets you. It's like he knows you're trying to memorize his face before he has to put that foresaken fucking helmet back on, so he's letting you take him in, hear him unmodulated— and watching him speak is like a work of art.

"Are you?" He questions, his fingers stalling their movements inside of you. His brown eyes haven't left yours since he got you on the table, it felt like he couldn't look away- even if he did want to.

Swallowing hard, you nod up to him- because you are his. You've been his for so long.

"Say it," his voice is stern, and he doesn't curl his fingers inside of you again, he pushes them further than he has yet, and it makes your eyes flutter.

"I'm yours."

The words leave your lips and Din withdraws his fingers from you, and places them into your mouth.

"Suck," he murmurs, placing himself between your legs. So you do, tasting yourself on his fingers, teasing him with your tongue between space between them.

The table feels like ice under your buttocks, but it's such a stark contrast to the heat radiating off Din between your thighs. Every single atom or fiber, or cell— whatever is holding you together as a person— is quivering. It's shaking like you might vibrate off the edge of the table.

"Ad'ika, are you ready?" Din whispers, pulling his fingers from your mouth and placing them into his. He half hums, half moans at the taste of you still lingering.

"I'm ready," you nod, eyes glued to his mouth. Everything inside of you is telling you to look down so you can watch him notch himself at your entrance for the first time, but you can't pull your gaze away from his face.

Din finally pulls his eyes away from yours, because he wants to watch. You're both trembling, you can feel it in the hand on the back of your neck. It feels time stops, both of you are still, just the heaving of your chests, and Din rubbing the tip of him along your soaked slit.

"Put it in," you whine quietly, eyes still locked onto his face, watching him lick his lips in anticipation.

Din's eyes flick up to yours, and a half smirk plays across his lips, "Ad'ika, I've waited just as long as you—"

"Put it inside," you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him into you.

Din leans in and presses a kiss, a real one- his lips to your forehead, very softly before he pushes just the tip inside of you.

It's breathtaking- you gasp at the sudden stretch and burn as he opens you up for him. With you jaw hanging open, and no sound coming out of your mouth you finally sit up and look down at him lewdly splitting you open around his throbbing, veiny length.

"Maker…"

"Maker…"

Both of you breathe the word simultaneously.

Then a soft whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it as Din pushes another inch of himself inside of you.

Din's eyes flash up from where he's pushing further into your dripping hole, to your eyes. "I'm hurting you?" He frowns, his brows furrowed together slightly.

You shake your head, then nod, and then shake your head from side to side again rapidly, "S'really good, please d-don't stop." You plead with him quickly, reaching out for him in any capacity.

Din's hand leaves the base of his cock where he had been holding it, and finds yours still searching for something to hold on to. He wraps your fingers around the back of his neck and they tangle in the mess of his loose, brown curls.

"Don't stop?" Din questions, his second hand now coming to the back of your neck to wrap around the one he still has there.

"Please don't stop," you confirm, beg, plead for him to move, to give you some sort of friction or satisfaction around the immense burn still happening as you mold to fit him inside you. "Please, p-please, Din—"

Din answers your supplications with a firm snap forward of his hips and he's entered you completely. His hips flush against yours.

The pained, moaned sound that's torn from your throat is loud, and it doesn't sound like it feels good— even though you want this. This is pain you're willing to give him— willing to go through to be close to him. It doesn't matter, it's a pain that stings in the sweetest way.

Din's eyes narrow on yours, a silent command for you to give him another confirmation that you still want this- that you still want him to hurt you just a little until it morphs into pure bliss.

You nod, mouth still hanging open silently.

Din groans, resting his forehead against yours once again, seemingly pleased with your silent need for more. "Fuck, little one, sucking me in so fucking good… Maker," he sighs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "You're so soft and warm, like I knew you would be."

All you can do is stare up at him, with tears in your eyes- mostly from the discomfort that has yet to settle into something you think you'll be able to enjoy. You'll will yourself to fit around him— you don't care because you love Din. You love him so much, and you wish you could say those words to him— but it's so fucking terrifying, and there are some scared tears in your eyes too.

All these feelings, and now this, this intense wave of new adoration for this man who usually dons beskar and a helmet, naked between your thighs right now. Din migrates his kisses to your cheeks, and the side of your face as his mouth settles directly in front of your ear.

"Shhhh, don't cry, please don't cry— it'll feel good soon, little one."

It feels like a promise as he pulls his hips back from yours slowly.

"Ohhhh fuck," you clench your eyes shut tight, and grip the hair at the base of his neck even tighter, as if that'll keep him in place, keep his massive length from leaving you fully.

"That's it," he coaxes, his thumbs rubbing circles at the base of your jaw, his fingers still intertwined around your neck.

"Take me, take every inch." He rocks forward then, and you whine at the movement, your entire body heating up from the inside out.

You can't think, can barely breathe, consumed by his intimidating size and the pressure of his body against yours, surrounding you completely.

"You're so perfect for me," Din praises, voice low and rough. "So beautiful and tight, and fucking perfect." He grunts.

He starts thrusting then, languid movements that have you arching up into him, feeling overwhelmed by too many sensations. "This okay?" he asks, voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I'll stop-"

Pleasure starts to peek through the veil of discomfort, winding its way up your spine until you're gasping, high and breathy. "Din, Din, fuck," You babble, hands scrabbling for a hold on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. "Don't stop— don't stop, p-please keep going."

He groans at that, hips stuttering. His rhythm falters but doesn't cease, picking up speed. "Greedy girl," he teases. "It feels good now?"

"Yes," you sigh.

"Good, c'mon on."

Din has both hands pressed against the wall of this new ship by his waist. The bend in your knees is draped over both of his forearms and he’s holding you against the wall. Your back is pressed against it and your hips are pulled away, supported by Din. 

His thrusts into you are not gentle or feather touches like the first night he woke you up in the dark. The loud smacking of skin against skin and your dripping cunt echo in the empty, quiet ship every time Din slams his hips into yours. He’s slamming them so hard your back moves up and down on the wall behind you. You're slick with sweat. 

Din wasn’t wrong when he said he would have hurt you before. The man cannot hold himself back now that he’s inside you again. He held back on the dining table, but he cannot anymore.

One of your hands is behind his neck, holding onto him tightly. You can feel him at your cervix, it’s a shock when he drives his hips into you. Din’s pushing every sound and every single ounce of air out of you. You are a squeaking mess against the wall behind you. The only sound coming out of you as he’s fucking you is a strained, small, quiet little pant with the tiniest exclaim of pleasure that your body can find inside of you. Your eyes are closed tightly, the grip on the back of his neck has got to be hurting him because what he’s doing to you is sending a completely new tsunami of goodness through you. These are not waves. 

It’s been one big orgasm since he started these thrusts into you. You haven't stopped. You’re dripping down Din’s thighs you’re so fucking wet. His sounds of pleasure are filthy. Deep grunts from his chest and guttural moans, unable to control how hard he fucks you. 

"You like this?” Din grunts deeply at you. All you can do is nod. “Say it.” He’s demanding it, no stutter, no soft voice of amazement or awe. He’s fucking up into you so deeply, “Say it," Din demands, needing your voice.

“Yes.” You finally find enough air inside you to force it out. Your head is spinning and you haven’t been able to form one clear thought since you and Din watched him slide his cock into you for the first time. You couldn’t even speak over the feeling of it stretching you. It felt like it was going to split you in half at first. 

“Yes, what?” More thrusts into you, quickly knocking you back against the wall each time, your sweat keeps you sliding up and down in rhythm with him. Din’s being so aggressive. You got a little tiny taste of it the other night when he face fucked you, but he held back then. He’s not holding back now.

“Y-yes. I-I l-love it.” You’re stuttering with each smack of his hips against yours. Din’s thrusts get faster as you speak to him like you’re the one controlling how fast and how hard he moves. 

“Say forever.” Another guttural demand forced out between hard upward slams of his hips into yours. 

“Oh my Mak- For-ever,” It comes from somewhere deep inside you like he just forced it from within you with those thrusts.

“Little one-” He’s looking down between you now, watching his hard cock disappear into your velvety wetness as he bucks his hips up into yours. The base of him is gleaming in your leaking slickness. It makes him groan, watching it. Encourages him to move faster. “-so per-fect.” He draws the word out, his forehead finds your shoulder. 

You’re suspended in the air, you can no longer even find the energy inside of you any more to keep your head up. It’s leaned back against the metal wall. Your eyes are closed as he rips another orgasm out of you. You don’t even make a sound when it happens. The only way he knows is by the walls of your cunt tightening and squeezing around his cock thrusting inside of you.

“That’s a good girl.” It’s another low guttural sound in your ear. “Love w-when you come on me. Love feeling you c-come.” You’re obsessed, love when he calls you a good girl and tells you to come on him. It’s the soundtrack you want to fall asleep to when he’s gone. 

Then he’s withdrawing from you. Your feet touch the ground before you can even comprehend what’s happening. Din’s hands are on your waist, turning you. He puts his hand flat on the wall from behind you. 

“Hands.” It’s a guided instruction on what Din wants you to do. You follow it, placing both of your hands on the wall. “Beautiful.” He’s still behind you, hands on your hips again, pulling them back against him. Din’s feet kick yours apart gently and you let him open you up. Then he’s pushing himself back into you.

The sounds your skin makes when he jackhammers into you are obscene. Like someone’s being beaten up. You are being beaten up...technically. You’ve never ever been fucked like this before. Your supple mounds bounce below you as he rams himself into you over and over. 

“Perfect— everything about you is perfect. Your cunt, your mouth... your ass,” he grunts, checking the list in his head aloud as he fucks you. "All so beautiful.” Then you hear his mouth wetly suck something from behind you, and the thoughts of what he’s doing run through your head. He presses his thumb against your puckered hole. “I want it. Can I t-take it? Please?” Din grunts, but is still being so polite while he thrusts into you angrily.  

“Yes.” You’re able to whimper out. You want him to take it too, thinking back to the time he used the Amban on you. “Take it.” Whimpered again.

“My little one,” he whispers as he slips the tip of his thumb into you. 

The pleasure between your legs completely masks any pain that might have happened when he did that because you don’t feel a thing. Just being stretched around his digit. The feeling of fullness as he rests the rest of his fingers just above your ass. He pushes it in deeper and holds it there as he continues to slam against you, again the sounds in the ship are salacious and filthy. Wet-smacking skin, your choked on sobs of bliss as he made you come once more. 

“Fuck.” He groans and his hand grips your hip tightly. “Fuck, take it. Fucking take it.” His thrusts become more staggered and sloppy. Din slams himself into you one last time and then holds himself against you, still grinding his hips into yours. You can feel him twitch and throb inside of you as he releases.

You’re ebbing off your orgasm for the seventeenth time. One last thrust of his hips to fully empty himself. He’s quivering. It makes you smile as you rest your forehead against the hull. 

“Perfect.” Din’s out of breath but uses what he’s got left in his lungs to let you know. His forehead finds the center of your shoulder blades. He’s sweating.

You can feel him leave his sticky sweat on your back when he stands, slowly and carefully pulling himself from within you. You groan at the empty feeling, his spend dripping down your thigh.

You stay, leaning up against the wall like that until his hands pull you away from it. 

“I can’t.” You gasp. “Oh, my Ma-ker.” Another forced-out gasp of approval of what he’s just done to you. “I can’t. Tired. Sore.” You whine as you push yourself off the wall. 

“Tired. Bed. Sleep. Perfect. Beautiful.” Another list in his head that he audibly checks off to you as he leads you backward towards the softest sheets and the most perfect bed on the floor as long as Din is beside you. 

tag list: @thereaperisabitch @pedrospookie @furiousmushroom @creepycorbeaux @harriedandharassed @realmamabear79 @blahkateisdone @picketniffler @cheekychaos28 @lilac-boo @pedrostories

let me know if you want to be added or taken off the tag list!!! (I'm also sorry if i forgot anyone, I am trying to be good for you all.

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 7 - Make it up as we go along

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Bit of assault towards Bucky (but not enough to hurt him), a just a note that this probably isn't the healthiest dynamic...

Ah surprise chapter drop! Hope you enjoy. I probably won't be able to post again until monday now. As always, I appreciate your lovely reblogs and comments. I'm so glad people are engaging with this series and I hope you continue to enjoy it!! I’m afraid I don’t have a taglist for this series, I don’t use them as I’ve had technical issues with them in the past. Sorry!

(gif not reflective of how reader looks)

You knew he was right – you needed to clear the air, and fix whatever the hell was going on between you both (if anything). But you couldn’t resist being petty, lashing out after his poor treatment of you earlier. Granny always said be the bigger person…but she was a far better than woman than you.

“Sorry. Can’t. Not on the clock,” you shot back at him as you unlocked the car.

You opened the car door and his arm moved to your shoulder, holding you firmly to stop you from getting in. You held strong, not letting his touch melt you.

“Fine. I deserve that,” he said gruffly, “but I really do want to talk to you. Please”.

The softness in his voice caught you off guard and you found you were annoyed by the sudden wobble of weakness you felt. No! STRENGTH!

You sighed heavily. “Alright. Step into my office,” you gestured to the car.

You slipped into the driver’s seat as he dropped his hold from your arm, then he followed suit by getting into the passenger seat alongside you. The Mustang’s passenger seat looked almost comically small with his big bulk spread across it.

He turned to look at you, face perfectly illuminated by the parking lot lamps. It wasn’t fair that anyone could possibly look so hot in fluorescent lighting.

“This is a nice car,” he said admiringly as he looked around the interior.

“I know” you replied curtly. “She’s my girl”.

“What’s her name?”

“Sally”.

He blinked at you.

“Mustang…Sally? Really?”

You folded your arms defiantly. “Is that a problem?”

“No…no…it’s not…” but you could see in his face he was trying to hold back one of those stupid smirks.

“If you’ve come here to make fun of me you can get the hell out…”

“No! I haven’t. Christ. It’s just funny…that’s all. It’s…cute”.

“Shut up, James”.

“Ohhh…you found that out, huh?” he grinned wickedly. “Well joke’s on you, cos I like you saying it…”

You took a second to scowl and him, then stared ahead out of the windshield with your arms crossed, hoping you looked more mysterious stranger than you did tantruming toddler. The two of you sat uncomfortably in the resulting silence.

“I’ve been an ass,” he told you, his eyes intense.

“Yes, you fucking have” you growled back at him.

“I’m sorry…really-”

“Look…Bucky,” you interrupted him aggressively. “I get it, we kissed. It didn’t mean anything to you. Fine. Whatever. But you didn’t have to ignore me…you didn’t have to parade Amber around in front of me like-”

“Sugar…”

“No! I mean how hard would it have been to drop me a text? Or tell me you made a mistake? Literally anything…”

“Sug…can I speak-”

“I’m not some random girl in a bar, Bucky! You can’t just ignore me. We work together. You’re my boss. You can’t just lay one on me and act like I don’t exist and-”

“Sugar! I’m trying to explain myself here!!” he barked, but you seemed to be on a roll…the floodgates were open.

“And another thing! Why are you getting aggressive about me meeting guys?? I can date who I like! You don’t get to be angry, especially when-MMPH!”

Bucky had clamped his large metal hand over your mouth, quite literally silencing you. Your eyes widened in shock; his tactic must’ve worked because you were briefly stunned into submission.

“I’m sorry…that was rash of me, but I literally can’t get a word in edgewise…” he told you gently, his voice quiet as if trying to talk down a spooked horse. “If you’d just let me-”

You yelped and shrieked as you wrenched his hand from your mouth in disbelief.

“What the FUCK was that?” you squawked as you struck him on the shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt, if you even could hurt him, but hard enough for him to curse and utter your name in incredulity.

Suddenly you were climbing over the seat and swatting at him, your anger boiling over. The inevitable purge after holding everything in all night. You knew it must’ve looked funny as he was so much larger than you, but your anger outweighed any self-consciousness.

“What. The. Fuck” you cried out, punctuating each word with a thwack to Bucky’s torso as he swore and tried to shuffle back, but the lack of space in the car meant he had nowhere to go. He just bumped into the passenger window as he exclaimed at you.

He quickly became tired of your attempted assault and wrapped his arms around yours, trapping them at your sides and effortlessly pulled you over the seats. “Alright,” he said tiredly. “Enough of that!”

Suddenly you were incapacitated in his hold, essentially straddling his lap as you voiced your outrage and tried to wriggle out of his hold.

“Bucky! What the-”

“You wouldn’t stop hitting me and shouting in my face! Jesus! Do you have any idea what a menace you are?”

The two of you squabbled for a little longer, faces inches apart.

“If you would just listen…”

“You can’t just DO stuff like that!”

“Why do you have to fight me on every, single, thing?”

“Why can’t you just be upfront and direct with me for once?”

A sudden silence enveloped you both as if someone had flicked an off switch, the bickering now replaced with a shared penetrating stare between you the two of you. Almost nose to nose. It was as if you both realised your close proximity in the same moment.

You weren’t sure who went in first. But it didn’t matter. He freed your hands and they flew up into his hair as he kissed you roughly, and you kissed him back just as hard. It was heated, passionate but there was anger in there too. Pent up desire and rage, a deadly combination. You nipped roughly at his bottom lip with your teeth, and he hissed and retaliated by forcefully pulling you closer into him as the kisses became deeper and sloppier and your tongue was no longer yours but a separate force you couldn’t control. His hands made their way up your back, then moved back down across your waist, then he pulled you forwards and lifted your ass up and he squeezed fistfuls of it as he moaned into your mouth. Part of you wanted to slap him and call him a pervert but you were simply too caught up to do so. It was wrong but so right. You wanted to shun him and punish him, but you also couldn’t stay away from him. Damn him.

“You’re so annoying…” he murmured softly as he dotted kisses across your jawline.

“So are you…” you retorted as you rocked your hips against his lap and stretched to get more comfortable in the cramped car.

“I should’ve implemented a skirts-only uniform policy,” he growled as his hands explored the back of your jean-clad thighs.

“Stop talking,” you managed breathily before silencing him with another kiss.

He moved you further onto his lap again and you allowed him to. He was firm in his hold but never too rough. You leaned across him to pull the lever to recline the seat but in your urgency and ungainliness you managed to hit the horn with your backside, sending a loud tone that made both of you jump.

It seemed to snap you out of your stupor as you flung yourself back against the driver’s seat, your hands recoiling away from him like your fingers had been burnt.

“No…we gotta stop this,” you panted out as you regained your composure and smoothed down your mussed hair. The silence lay thick and heavy.

He sat back against his own seat looking a little bewildered. “Yeah…sorry. You’re right. I just…lost myself a little there,” he cleared his throat.

“You hurt me,” you told him meekly and unable to meet his gaze. “I feel really embarrassed. After we kissed…you didn’t get in touch. Then tonight you almost seemed annoyed I was there when you came in. And you spent the whole time with Amber, apart from when you got pissed at me for talking to another guy”.

You chewed your lip, mortified by your own vulnerability. But you were glad you finally said it out loud. It was the most honest thing you’d ever said to him.

You could see him nodding in your periphery. “I’m sorry, Sug,” he said quietly.

He took a deep breath. “That kiss…it did mean something to me you know”.

You finally turned to look at him, surprised by his admission. “What?”

He looked back at you. He seemed…smaller, somehow. “Of course it did,” he continued. “We both felt it, didn’t we? This thing between us. I feel a little crazy around you. You’re like this…brilliant woman. Smart and funny…makes the meanest spicy ‘marg for hundreds of miles,” he grinned.

Even you couldn’t stifle a chuckle at that.

“You also get under my skin in a way nobody else does. You make me so mad. But I can’t help being near you. And when you got hurt that night…I was so angry. Angry at myself for not protecting you. Angry at you for mouthing off and not getting help. I guess…I guess it sorta pushed me to finally make a move…and then Sam interrupted and…” he sighed “Fuck. I don’t know. I suddenly felt bad. I shouldn’t be hitting on my staff. Especially injured staff…”

“Yeah…but I wanted it too, Bucky. You know I did…”

“I know…But…I dunno, I wouldn’t want you to ever think I was taking advantage”.

You swallowed, absorbing everything he’d just told you. Yeah…that was reasonable. He was your boss after all and there was always going to be a weird power dynamic there, but you still had more questions than answers.

“Bucky…” you started quietly. “If you wanted the kiss…Why did you disappear? I didn’t hear from you…and then tonight…”

He interrupted you with a noise of frustration, but seemingly towards himself rather than you.

“Alright…look. This…well, there’s no way of spinning any of this that makes me look good here, alright? But I want to be honest with you…I’m not going to lie to you”.

You nodded, grateful for his candour but uneasy about what he might say. You stiffened but still turned to him and gave him your full attention.

“Okay…so. Like I said, I wanted the kiss. And I’m glad it happened. And I was gonna text…call…and I almost did so many times, I had your contact open on my phone and everything…but I guess…I panicked a little”.

“Panicked?”

“Yeah…I mean,” he sighed. “Because I really like you. And I’m not used to that. And on top of that, I’m your boss. And…you’re leaving town soon anyway. And…our relationship is sorta, volatile? I guess? I admit this is fucked up and chicken shit of me, but I kinda freaked out. I suppose I worried that if I jumped headfirst into something with you, it might be a mess. Or worse, I might fall hard, and it would be that much harder to see you go when the time came. I know you might think this is me taking the easy way out to give you the brush off…but it’s the truth”.

You sat in silence at his admission, eyes wide and lips parted. You were surprised at how open he was. The two of you had never really done ‘direct communication’ before…and it was eye opening to say the least. You knew deep down you agreed, you already knew that finally saying goodbye to him would be tough…you didn’t want to make it any tougher.

“I still shouldn’t have left you hanging like that. I’m sorry,” he told you with sincerity. “I’m not…good at this stuff”.

“And what about you and Amber? I mean the two of you…”

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Look…there is no me and Amber…”

“But-” you interrupted harshly. “I’ve seen you..”

“No. Seriously, it’s the truth,” he explained as he ran a hand through his hair. “Amber is cute. She’s fun. Again, I won’t lie to you – we’ve fooled around in the past. But I’m not interested in pursuing anything with her. She knows that, I’ve never lied to her about that. But she tries. And I do care for her. But it’s just messing around. We flirt and it’s fun, and I know it might look I lead her on, but I consistently remind her where I stand. I guess maybe she’s hoping I’ll change my mind? I don’t want to outright ban her from the bar…but she turns up…and some of the guys are involved with her friends…and I guess I’m too clumsy to give the situation the care it deserves because I don’t want to give her false hope, but I don’t want to be outright mean to her either. I know you probably think I’m just some meathead biker juggling girls, but I don’t like hurting people who don’t deserve it”.

You noted the concern in his voice. He really did seem to care about handling it right, even if he wasn’t very good at it. But you remembered the extent of tonight and rolled your eyes.

“C’mon Bucky…that’s all very well and good…but she was sitting in your damn lap this evening. So you’re not exactly taking a hard line with her….” You scowled.

“Yeah…and did you see the part where I rolled my eyes and moved her away?”

“Oh, come on…”

“It’s true! I told her to back off, but you’d disappeared…”

“Don’t insult me…”

“I’m not, it’s the truth!” He frowned. “Okay, fine, maybe I need to be stricter with her. We’ve just been doing this back and forth for so long I sometimes forget how it must look…”

“Poor little you…”

“Oh, don’t give me that. What about you, huh? Flirting and giving out your number in front of me?”

“That’s different! You were ignoring me…I thought you’d knocked me back!”

“I saw that message was from Wanda but you made out it wasn’t…I know what you were doing. You were enjoying me being jealous…And yes, obviously I was jealous, so don’t think make a whole thing of it”.

You stopped suddenly, your cheeks feeling hot as he’d caught you out in your game. “Oops. Um…okay. Fine…”

You both sat quietly until he spoke again.

“I guess both of us have played a part in this, not being upfront with the other about how we feel”.

“Yeah…” you sighed. “That’s true enough…I’m still mad, though”.

“That’s okay. I deserve it”.

He nudged you playfully and you couldn’t help but crack a smile. Damn him.

“Look…given how much drama there’s been already between us…Maybe we should just call it, put a stop to this thing and stay just friends and colleagues. Have quieter lives as a result,” you offered, unable to mask the melancholy in your voice.

He nodded. “Yeah…that probably is for the best”.

You felt sad…but you knew it was the right move. All this drama and angst and you’d only shared a few kisses. Imagine how much worse it would get? What if you’d slept together?? And he was right earlier, this whole thing did have an expiration date. You didn’t want to have to quit your job even if it was temporary. You didn’t want to leave on bad terms because you were banging your boss, or because you were insecure about who else he was banging. It all came back to the same bottom line…you didn’t need this in your life. Not now. Not with Granny’s house.

This was for the best. This was a mature decision. This was growth.

Wait.

Wait.

Why is he looking at you like that…?

What is he….oh.

Uh oh.

“Bucky…” you pleaded softly, but his mouth was already on yours.

“Just friends,” he mumbled into your mouth.

“Just friends,” you whispered against his.

Shit.

[acinnamongirlsdiary]

𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓕𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓡𝓲𝓫𝓫𝓸𝓷𝓼-𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 1: 𝓢𝓪𝓭 𝓖𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓫𝔂 𝓛𝓓𝓡

Summary: Reader and Jacaerys are arranged to be wed. But reader doesn’t want that bc she hardly remembers him. Tension are rising with house Lannister so allies are more important then ever.

Cw: Slowburn, angst, this is genuinely just a fix-it fic, Rhaenicent, some mentions of s/a trauma but will be tagged in the chapters!!, mean dad, eventual smut but will tag in chapters, readers super apprehensive, VERY self indulgent

Pls be nice this is my first fic lol!! Feedback is very welcome tho! Banner creds to- @gwzzzly

.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

You were sure your father would be the death of you. One of the most powerful and influential lords of Westeros forcing his youngest daughter to marry Queen Rhaenrya’s eldest son, Jacaerys Valeryon.

Knowing him since you were kids claimed your beating heart just a little. The thought still scared you. The idea of a loveless, political marriage was terrifying. Especially with a man you haven’t seen in 7 years.

“We’re almost to Kings landing, My Lady.” Your maid and friend, Abby, said. “Are you excited? I remember when we were younger you were so in love with him and the idea of becoming queen.”

She was right. The idea of Jacaerys and being queen was enticing, but your father’s words were causing a little apprehension to say the least.

“I don’t know.” You spoke softly, as though you were trying not to wake a bear, “I remember him being kind, but it’s been so long. What if he’s changed? What if he’s become as power hungry like most other men.”

“I choose to believe Rhaenrya would rather die then let that happen.” Abby said. She was amazing to have around. So kind an positive even when you would start to spiral.

“I’m hoping for my sake he’s understanding. I’m so nervous I don’t know how I’ll react when I see him.” You said poking out the window. The foliage and mountains were so beautiful, covered with fog ready to claim travelers.

It reminded you of simpler, softer times.

.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

Getting out of the carriage and up the steps to the throne room were grueling. Your father reminding you to speak kindly and be as open as possible was stressing you out and causing you to shut down even more. He could be kind, your father as you siblings loved to remind you, but he was nothing if not arrogant through and through.

The throne room was vast but smaller than you remember. Running through it and poking your finger on the swords of the iron throne (which was just as intimidating as before). Rhaenyra and Alicent smiled at you.

“Hello sweet girl” Alicent said, pulling you into a warm hug. “It’s been so long you’re so much older!” She smiled.

“Queen Alicent! I’ve missed you!” You exclaimed wrapping your arms around her. You didn’t expect to see Jacaerys right away asking the queens where he was.

“Oh Jace is on the beach with Luke training.” Rhaenyra stated. Her warm gaze on you felt nostalgic. “Heleana will show you your room and perhaps you two can take a walk to show you around.”

.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

As you walked with Heleana, your anxiety started to lower. She spoke about how kind Jacaerys was, how much you’ll like it here and how excited he was to see you again.

“He’ll be at the feast tonight. It’s all he’s spoken to Rhaenrya about for the past couple of days!” She giggled.

“Really? I didn’t expect him to be so happy.” The thought of a man so happy to see you after so long felt you with warmth.

“Oh yes. He’s gotten bigger than he was before.” She giggled “I’m sure he’ll be able to twirl you around whilst you two dance the night away!” She let go of your hand and started to spin, while looking dreamily to the sky.

.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

Your nerves eased through the day, talking and having tea and picking out dresses with Abby and Heleana.

“That one will bring him to his knees.” Abby giggle, referring to a beautiful pink gown with shirt sleeves and little ruffles on the bodice. You twirl thinking of dancing with Jacaerys. His arms around you as if you were the only people in the world.

“Did you hear what Lady Carrie said?” Abby spoke as she massaged shampoo through your hair. “She was speaking to one of the Tyrell boys and how she planned to dance with him.” You gasp. The idea of Lady Carrie and him was odd. Especially with how rough he looked. “I don’t think he deserves her though.”

The night went on with gossip and preparing for the grand meal. You tried to pay attention but ever mention of Jacaerys made you both freeze up and go stiff but also become excited in ways you could hardly contain. The idea of him and you being bound together scared you. But you’re hair tied up and flowers woven through out, your makeup in light pink shades and in your beautiful pink dress, you knew you at least looked your best.

Walking into the dining room all eyes were on you. Especially Jacaerys’.

.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

Sorry if this is so short! The future chapters will be longer but I just wanted to get this one out!

[hooked-on-elvis]

JUNE JUANICO DESCRIBING HOW IT FELT TO BE KISSED BY ELVIS IN 1955/1956

They talked in the car for a while, and then he wanted to go for a walk. He took her hand, and there was just enough moonlight that she could watch for the cracks in the pier’s old boards so her high heels wouldn’t get stuck. Suddenly, he stopped. He turned her around so he was behind her and slipped his hands around her waist and kissed her neck. She felt a shock of electricity, and squirmed, but he promised he wouldn’t hurt her. He kissed her tenderly, first her forehead, and each eye, then her nose, and finally her lips. She kissed him back in a way that had a future in it. "Where did you learn to kiss?" he asked, surprised at her passion. "I was just getting ready to ask you the same thing!" she said, and she still remembers what it was like: "Soft, full lips. Nothing too sloppy. Oh! It was just marvelous, a little pecking here and there, a nibble, and then a serious bite. "It started small, and then got bigger, and then went little again before ending up with a lot of eye contact."

Excerpt from book "Baby, Let's Play House: Elvis Presley and the Women Who Loved Him" by Alanna Nash (2010). Chapter 7: "Biloxi Bliss"

[1] Elvis in 1955 (age 20) photographed in Memphis, TN, at William Speer's studio; [2] Elvis Presley (age 21) photographed in a room on the sixth floor of the Peabody Hotel in Memphis, TN, last week of July 1956, by journalist Lloyd Shearer, on assignment for Parade magazine.

[in-collection]

House of Leaves, by Daniel Z. Danielewski, first published in 2000.

Below the cut, some thoughts on the typeset. Warning for: very long, minor spoilers, pedantic writing, and me talking out of my ass.

House of Leaves, why the typeset is weird and what it creates

House of Leaves, book of genre indeterminate (1), is a cult book that has been talked to death, and I probably won't be saying anything new about it. Still, as a paragon of ergodic literature and of weird typesets, it certainly deserves a place here - and some commentary, for those who will discover it.

First, as it stands to reason we cannot talk about the form without talking about the content, I must confess to you that I did not read this book. I have tried - and am still trying - but so far I have failed. I can still say some words though I am sure they would be different had I actually read the whole thing.

With that said, here is a summary of the story:

The Navidson family moves into a house which they find is bigger on the inside, among other weird quirks. The patriarch takes his camera and films his exploration of it. This documentary became found footage found and described by a man named Zampanò. Zampanò's description was then organized and annotated by a man named Johnny Truant. Johnny's manuscrit was then found and edited by a mysterious editor. And thus the book House of Leaves, by Zampanò and Johnny Truant, was published.

Suffice to say this book is complex and obscure, a layered metafiction written by a fictional character who knows he is writing a book that someone will eventually, hopefully, read one day. On top of this, there are also nearly 200 pages of appendices and over 450 footnotes (2). Some footnotes go nowhere, make no sense, have footnotes of their own, are several pages long, or will talk about something else entirely, creating several narratives happening at the same time. Some passages are in braille, in morse, hidden in codes and puzzles, to the point that the french translator claimed he couldn't have translated the book without help from dedicated fans to decipher those puzzles (3). All over the book, you can find evidence for several possible theories, and all those theories contradict each other, yet they all seem to exist at the same time.

Once again... this book is complex and obscure. I don't think it'd be going too far to say that no one truly understands it, except for the author. It is purposefully obscure, and it is not meant to be understood intellectually (4). Its goal is elsewhere (5); it is a book that exists beyond comprehension.

With all that said, we can talk about the typeset (6). The first thing to say is that the typeset is visually just as obscure as the story. The second thing to say is that it is obviously not random.

The ergodic nature of the book is one very noticeable, physical layer (7). The reader will have to turn the book 90° clockwise, or 180°, or 270°; sometimes they’ll have to use a mirror to read reversed text; sometimes the text is circular - the book requires physical handling and you become acutely aware of the weight and presence of a 700-pages long book. Sometimes the text is dense and requires several minutes to go through the page; sometimes there will be one sentence stretched over two pages for an entire chapter, which requires rapid page flipping (8) - this is rhythm, created by the amount of text on the page, which is of course not random either; when Navidson is exploring the ever-expanding house, the text becomes scattered, with a sense of loneliness, foreboding, unpredictability since each page will be scattered differently. Those passages provide an entirely different reading experience than that of the denser parts.

Moving on, we have another layer created by the typeset: Johnny Truant, when he finds Zampanò's notes, described how they were in bits and pieces, some in tiny unreadable scrawl, some crossed out. He had to make sense of all of this the same way we have to try to make sense of the text on pages where it is literally going in all directions - where to begin? where to go? - or when it is crossed out. Johnny discovers some (most?) of Zampanò’s footnotes are fictitious, as he thinks is the entire Navidson record, and similarly we have to try to decipher what reference is real or fake (9), which one is important or one. There is a mise-en-abyme (10) of our reading experience.

Do not think easily Johnny is here to help us though, because much like Navidson gets lost in the house, much like Johnny loses himself in Zampanò’s notes, his own footnotes will regularly go on pages long tangent about his recent hook-ups, losing us in the plot. This of course is felt in the typeset: after a passage with Navidson that has approximately 6 words per page for about 20 pages, we reach a 5 pages long, as dense as can be footnote where Johnny describes how he got his prostate fingered. Much like the subjects of the two POV could not be more different, we the readers are also getting whiplash from the difference between the two typesetting and the two different behaviors and rhythm they demand. As you can see on the pictures, it's like this for the entire book: there never is any solid ground, neither in the plot or the typeset. The reader is lost in it: since each POV has its typeface, it can create a visual mess where it's hard to find the tiny little superscript indicating a footnote (especially since some are hidden).

Now for another layer (last one, I promise), here is a small spoiler for the ending of the Navidson record. At the end, when Navidson is lost in the dark of the house’s maze, he has a book with him: House of Leaves (11). Obviously, there is no way Navidson could have a book about his unfinished documentary, yet there it is, at the deepest layer of the story within the story; the main character of the one layer who cannot possibly know anything about any other layer has the book, which has everything, the ultimate mise-en-abyme, and this thread which goes through the entire narrative loops back to us. How? Well, what is the house, if not the book?

What is the house, if not the House of Leaves, if not the book, which is House of Leaves? And, well, of course the book is the house of leaves. The book is House of Leaves. But there is a difference between House of Leaves and being the house of leaves, isn’t there? 

There is no doubt the book looks like the house; it is bigger on the inside (12), it is a labyrinth made for people to lose their footing, it is three-dimensional (13), its typesetting is ever changing, unpredictable. 

In turn, the book's effects are like that of the house: you are lost in it, you cannot grasp it, you cannot hope to catch all of its codes and puzzles, doing so would drive you mad, much like it drove Navidson, Zampanò, and Johnny mad.

And even more, surely the house is the main character of the book - every iteration of the word house is in blue - and, much like the hotel in The Shining, it is alive (and driving people mad). Yet it is not a house, not even diegetically: Johnny strongly suspects the documentary to be fake, as do most fans of the book, and so there is no evidence of its existence. The only time the words “House of Leaves” appear are when we realize Navidson inexplicably has a copy, and in a poem in an appendix that reads: “this great blue world of ours / seems a house a leaves / moments before the wind.” Not a house. More like a world. What appears at the end of the book - Yggdrasil, the world tree, also known as the ash tree, while the house apparently sits on Ash Tree lane. And what happens to Navidson’s copy of House of Leaves? He burns it (14) and turns it to ashes (15).

And of course, it is the house of Leaves; leaves like the leaves of a tree, a book full of leaves of paper which, much like the house, is a labyrinth which would drive crazy anyone trying to get to the bottom of it for it is the House (17). And the typeset in all of this; well, could the book be the house without it? If it wasn’t bigger on the inside, if it wasn’t a maze, if it didn’t compel people to try to understand it through its uniqueness? If the first page only credited Danielewski and not Zampanò & Johnny, if it didn’t even try to look like Johnny’s manuscript? 

Without this, the final layer of the story would be broken: the layer which encompasses all other, where the reader that puts their hands on Johnny’s manuscript, finally edited and published by the mysterious Editor, is us - the house of leaves finding its way to us after going through all the layers one by one, before going back to Navidson in a complete, eternal loop, because the house of leaves does not care for logic or for what is possible. It’s a case of the form, beyond being made for the content, also creates the content; without it, the content is incomplete. Without it the book is not (the) House and the loop is broken (18).

------------

(1) Described at times as a horror story, a romance, a satire, a gothic fiction, a postmodern book, etc.

(2) Exactly 450 numbered footnotes, and then more using special characters.

(3) x

(4) When the french translator asked the author to tell him about the book's puzzles and hidden codes for the translation, Danielewski answered "have fun". x

(5) It is explicitly said to not be for us (see the third image of this post): this is not a book we are meant to grasp.

(6) A fun fact: it was typeset by Danielewski himself, who did not trust anyone else with it.

(7) In ergodic literature, nontrivial effort is required to allow the reader to traverse the text. From wikipedia.

(8) And that is without mentioning the several appendices which require you to go to the end of the book and back.

(9) While also figuring the third category, the reference that is real within the story and fake in real life. All of this can prove itself tiresome when some footnotes are two pages' worth of name listed without any breaks.

(10) A story within a story; our story is Johnny’s story. From French, meaning literally “placed into an abyss”.

(11) It is also described as a 736-long pages book, the exact same amount of pages the IRL book has.

(12) And indeed the cover doesn’t reach the edge of the inside pages.

(13) Of course the object that a book is is three-dimensional, but the words inside are too: some passages go through the page (and multiple pages at that). More specifically, in that blue square you can see above in the pictures.

(14) He burns it for light in order to read the book - plenty to say about that though I won’t, this is long enough.

(15) Yggdrasil also defies logic, is a tree of “terror” (etymologically speaking), a tree that holds up the world, that is the center of the world itself. In most beliefs, reaching the center, while illuminating, is a hard journey (16). What does Navidson do, except search for meaning by going to the center of the mysterious house’s labyrinth, which eventually drives him mad?

(16) That sentence is said by Zampanò himself in one of his footnotes.

(17) The Shining could never; it stops at the hotel being alive.

(18) And indeed, all translated versions of the book look the exact same, despite how arduous this makes the translation process. There is also no ebook version, since it needs to be paper (leaves). And though I’m sure somewhere a normie version exists, I doubt you could call it House of Leaves. In a roundabout way, it is also its typesetting which has made the book famous - making sure the two could never be parted at least in people's mind.

[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 7

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, serial killer, mentions of cartels, grief, smut

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: The chapter where we find out why Ted is on Beau's punch list aka The One With Ted... 😂

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 7: Storm Coming

May 2021

“I sold the house,” you said, your voice ripping through the quiet of the car during another starry stake-out night.

“So you’re homeless now?” Beau joked and peeled his eyes away from the front window view and glanced at you from the driver’s seat, his hand resting on the steering wheel, the other one in his lap.

You chuckled. “Yup, but I got a hot plate now in my motel room and one of those Italian moka pots. So, you know, some would say I’m living the dream.”

Beau snorted in amusement before he pensively rubbed his mouth with two fingers. “You didn’t have to sell the house, you know?”

You heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I kinda did, though… I didn’t like staying in there anymore. It’s just… too many memories, I guess? ‘Sides, I’m always down here anyways. Actually considering moving here.”

Beau frowned at you, his nose scrunching. “What, to Mexico? Are you nuts? Over my dead body are you doin’ that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a say in it,” you retorted rather playfully and put a shocked palm on your chest in mock.

“Damn right, I do,” Beau scoffed his reply with a teasing grin. “Who do you think is lookin’ out for ya, huh?”

“Wait, you think you are? That’s what you believe?” You snorted a laugh, entering banter territory with him.

It was usually how you passed your time during most of these stake-outs – laughing, teasing, and the occasional talking about your problems. You’d never known Beau like this before. He was your husband’s best friend, but he had been more of an acquaintance to you. Now, after months of spending close to every day together, it felt like he was your best friend. Since Randy’s death, he’d been there for you, even if it was mostly out of guilt.

“Yeah, what d’you think?” Beau countered challengingly.

“Oh sweetie, you’re not looking after me. I’m looking after you,” you stated confidently. The smile that twitched on his lips seemed to actually agree with you. “Out of the two of us, you’re the way bigger wreck. Some would even think it’s your husband who died, not mine.”

“Are you calling me a girl?”

You coolly shrugged your shoulders. “Either I’m calling you a girl, or I’m calling you gay. I’ll let you pick.”

Laughingly, Beau scoffed and muttered, “You wish I was gay.”

However, you still heard his mumbled reply and responded, “Actually, I wish you were a girl and that I was gay.”

Beau stared at you and leaned back against the door for a better view of you, his brow raised and the corners of his lips drawn slightly upwards in amusement. “What are we even talking about?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted with a shake of your head.

The two of you then burst into loud laughter that filled the entire SUV. For a moment, all your sorrows and hardships seemed to be forgotten, carried away to the desert with the nightly breeze. Then, the familiar and comfortable quiet took over the car again.

“I’m moving out of the house, too,” Beau said, his eyes focusing on the barren landscape and desolate road ahead. “I’m giving it to Carla. I mean, she didn’t ask me to. God knows she can take care of herself… But I want Emily to keep living in the home she grew up in, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. That’s really nice,” you said quietly. Your soft smile then morphed to a grin. “So you’re homeless, too, huh?”

Beau laughed, throwing his head back into the seat. “Yeah, guess I am. Maybe we should live together?” he suggested half-jokingly.

“Like roommates? Ugh, God no!” You scoffed in abhorrence. “We’re way too old for that. You’re over forty, I’m barely in my thirties–”

“You do know I know exactly how old you really are, right?” Beau teased.

You decided to ignore that jab and continued, unbothered. “It would be seriously so sad. The Widow And The Divorcee – sounds like the worst sitcom on the planet. ‘Sides, it’d be super awkward if one of us starts dating again.”

“Fine, maybe you’re right,” Beau relented with a soft chuckle and then glanced at you sideways. His heart gained speed in his chest. “You ever think about it? Dating? Gettin’ out there again? Been nine months.”

You twitched your shoulders, choosing not to look at him. “I don’t know. Is nine months long enough after your husband died?”

Thoughtfully, Beau licked his lips and let out a small sigh. “I don’t think there’s a timeline, or a right and wrong. I just think it’s one of those things that when you’re ready, you’re ready.” “Well, consider me not ready then, I guess,” you replied honestly.

“Alright,” Beau accepted, bobbing his head. “But I still think you should try again at some point, you know? You shouldn’t be alone for the rest of your life. First of all, it’d be a total waste, ‘cause, I mean, look at you. And secondly, you’re barely in your thirties, after all,” he repeated your earlier joke with a soft grin.

You felt the heat creep to your cheeks in the moonlight. As you looked at him, you could see his smirk, making you laugh. “Noted,” you replied and were thankful for his pep talk. “I mean, there’ve been offers.”

Beau quirked one eyebrow, a hard lump forming in his throat as his chest tightened. “Offers? Like plural? Who?”

“Well, just some of the guys from our team. Cody, Jordan, Ted…” you named a few. “Also a few locals. Remember those guys we played pool with a few weeks ago? Two of ‘em asked for my number.”

“Huh. That is plural…” Beau pursed his lips and couldn’t keep his brow from wrinkling, his grip on the steering wheel stiffening. “Well, you know, when you’re not ready, you’re not ready. Shouldn’t force anything. No rush, darlin’.”

Smooth, Beau thought wryly with an internal sigh.

“Right, I know,” you agreed. “I do miss sex, though. Getting kinda bored of my vibrator.”

Beau choked on his spit. “Jesus…”

“What? Am I not allowed to talk about it? I thought we were friends. You’re supposed to care about my well-being and happiness,” you argued, frowning.

“I do care. Just… Can we please not talk about that?” he begged and exhaled a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his freckled nose.

“Fine. I miss having women around…” You shrugged and muttered, “Didn’t peg you for a prude.”

“Okay, let’s just get one thing straight – I’m not a prude,” he clarified in defense, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

“Alright, also noted,” you quipped, smirking to yourself. Sometimes you enjoyed making him a little uncomfortable. His blushed cheeks could be quite cute. “What about you? Have you still not talked to Carla? I’m sure you can win her back if you tried. You’re a lot better now.”

“Well, thank you for the, uh, vote of confidence, but it’s really over, I guess. We just talked about all the divorce proceedings last time. I actually think she started datin’ someone recently,” Beau told you.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really? Who?”

“I guess some rich tech guy. I don’t know…”

“And you’re good with that?” you questioned in disbelief.

Beau scoffed a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Ha, no… But what am I gonna do? Kinda shot myself in the leg with that one. I don’t blame her for moving on. It’s been over for months now.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry. I was kinda rooting for you two,” you admitted.

“Well, thanks, but we weren’t you and Randy,” Beau said. It made your brow knit.

“What d’you mean?”

“C’mon, you know what I mean,” Beau replied as if it were obvious, but you still shook your head. He sighed. “You and Randy would’ve never gotten divorced.”

“You don’t know that.” Honestly, you doubted it yourself, but you were too curious to find out what he meant by his statement.

“I do know that,” Beau insisted with certainty. “You guys had that once-in-a-lifetime kinda love. The kind that made other people jealous, you know? Your love made every other relationship pale in comparison. I always figured once the honeymoon phase was over, you’d settle and be less vomit-inducing, but that never happened. Me and Carla were never like that. Not even in the beginning,” he explained, a small, soft smile shaping his mouth. “You guys were special. True love. The stuff folk singers write cheesy songs about.”

“I guess we were,” you mused quietly, the memory of everything Randy was to you causing tears to well in your eyes.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Beau apologized as soon as he noticed the sadness on your face. He reached his hand over to your side and squeezed your thigh gently, just above the knee.

“No, it’s alright,” you brushed him off, swallowing your heartache down. “But hey, if Carla wasn’t your once-in-a-lifetime, maybe she’s still out there. You just haven’t found her yet. I mean, that’s kinda a nice outlook, right?”

Licking his lips, he bobbed his head, his gaze focused on his hand on the steering wheel. “I doubt it.”

“Why? Never say never,” you said encouragingly.

“Well, maybe I already met her, and it’s too late now,” he replied. It sounded more like an actual fact than a hypothetical theory. You found yourself wondering.

“What, did you have like an old college flame? The one that got away?” you teased lightheartedly, but he only grew more serious.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replied vaguely, rubbing his mouth with his fingers.

“Look her up on Facebook. Maybe she’s divorced, too. You could reconnect or something,” you suggested. He nodded but didn’t seem too convinced. You then shot him a hesitant glance from your periphery. “So, now that Carla’s moving on, are you gonna start dating now, too? Jump back into the game?”

“I guess so… Why?” A part of him was curious to hear your response, while another part reminded him that his desired answer was only wishful thinking – and completely insane on top of that.

“That fiery brunette lady at the bar last night seemed really interested in you. Maybe you should hook up with her if she’s there again tomorrow night?” you proposed in earnest.

Wide-eyed, Beau blinked at you in incredulity – like you had lost your goddamn mind. “I’m sorry, what?! Hook up? Who are you right now? Are you tryin’ to set me up?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged simply, not seeing what the big problem was. “Don’t look at me like I’m trying to convince you to get a tramp stamp above your ass with a dirty needle. I’m just trying to be a good wingman… woman. Randy would’ve tried to set you up, right?”

Beau sighed frustratedly. “Yeah, he would’ve,” he admitted in a grumble and then barked, slightly more furious, “But you ain’t him. And I don’t want you to be, so stop it, alright?”

“Geez, I’m sorry. I was just trying to help,” you mumbled defensively and raised your hands in surrender, unsuccessfully hiding your upset over his reaction. He felt guilty when he saw the small pout on your face.

Beau rubbed his forehead before dragging his palm over the rest of his face. “I know. I’m sorry, too,” he said and let out a deep breath through his nose. “I just-… I guess I’m just waiting, okay?”

“Waiting for what?”

Beau squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. For you to be ready, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t very well do that now, could he?

“For Christ’s sake, Y/N…” he breathed exhaustively. That was all he managed to say. With his palm on his mouth, he rested his elbow against the car door, gazing out the window.

“Why are you so upset?” you asked, your brow woven with confusion.

“Switch subjects,” he requested.

It was a phrase the two of you used whenever you didn’t want to talk about something anymore. When someone pushed too much, or the topic got too emotional and you needed a break. The only rule was to always respect the request, so you had no choice but to let it go after that.

“The Texans game sucked last night, huh?”

That elicited a snort from him, and he looked at you with a warm smile. “Yeah, goddamn awful.”

“How many times are you gonna watch those?”

Beau’s question broke your concentration. Your gaze snapped from your laptop screen to his concerned face. You’d been rewatching the victims’ videos for four days straight now, trying to find more clues. Maybe even something that directly led to Diane.

“I keep thinking maybe I’ve missed something,” you mumbled and stared back into the computer, your teeth gnawing on the pen between your lips. “It’s 48 hours each. We have twenty-four victims. I keep watching them sped-up to get through them all, but maybe I should slow ‘em down. I mean, I’ve watched them full-length, normal speed a couple of times before, but maybe I should watch ‘em even slower and really focus, you know? There’s gotta be something there…”

Bobbing his head worriedly, Beau pursed his lips and took a scan of your desk. He counted eight empty cups of coffee and five cans of energy drinks. There were bags under your red eyes and your hands were jittering. He knew you hadn’t slept a lot. He tried to hold you in his arms, but as soon as he dozed off, you snuck out and went back to work.

Beau shut the laptop. “You’re cut off.”

“Hey!”

“Y/N, you need to sleep. Just look at you, darlin’. This obsession isn’t healthy. I’m taking you home,” he declared sternly, ignoring your protests. You were pretty sure he had used his dad voice, too.

“I need that woman in prison, Beau.”

“You startin’ to sound like Jenny…” Beau quipped under his breath.

“We’re running out of time. There’s only one day left before the next victim drops,” you stated and tried your best to keep your voice steady as it broke off towards the end.

“I know.” Beau clasped your shoulder and squeezed gently. “And we’ll get her. I promise you. But you’re no good to any of us if you’re exhausted and losing it right now.” You nodded and rose from your chair. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against him, kissing the top of your head affectionately. “How about some dinner, huh?”

You grinned warmly. “What, like a second date?”

“Exactly like a second date,” Beau said and mirrored your grin. He was making up for lost time as best as he could, even if it meant taking you out every night for the rest of your life.

Your phone buzzed on the table, your brow quirking at the number. Eagerly, you picked up and wound yourself out of Beau’s embrace. “Special Agent Y/L/N… Uh-huh… Great, thank you.”

Beau pursed his lips. “We’re not going out, are we?”

“‘fraid not, Sheriff.” You shook your head and chuckled at his groan. “That was IT. They’re finally done and sending over the IP addresses.”

“Alright, guess I’m gettin’ take out,” Beau announced with a small sigh, knowing the two of you were in for a long night – and not the one he had planned.

You smiled and pecked his lips. “Thank you.”

August 2020

Beau’s heart thudded frantically in his chest as his knuckles tapped your front door in the early evening. The sky was a color spectacle full of azures, indigos, and apricots as the summer sun slowly set. His boots only stood on that same spot not even twenty-four hours ago. It still felt like a surreal nightmare he couldn’t escape, his hope to wake up soon a ceaseless prayer.

He’d stayed with you all night, held you as you cried yourself to sleep. Beau awoke on your couch with your head resting on his thigh and a strange feeling in his gut. He couldn’t help but think you were beautiful, even in a state of utter turmoil, shoving said thought swiftly down into the depths of his darkening soul.

But he’d spent all day thinking of you, plagued by guilt and torn by misplaced feelings. He’d sat through hours of interviews, going over and over the events of last night till his mind spun like a hamster wheel. He was forced to fill out forms, sign documents, and recount each unforgettable step. He’d listened to lectures, sermons, and admonitions. His captain gave him a tongue-lashing that sounded like mere white noise before he was sent home with a suspension – investigation pending.

Only he didn’t go home; he came here.

At home, his wife and daughter were waiting – for a husband, a father, an explanation. None of which he could provide. Beau wanted to wallow in his grief, his guilt, his loss in peace. He lacked the strength to be strong, play pretend, and act above it all. He wanted to be punished, sent to perdition, and held accountable for his lapse of judgment. A suspension wasn’t good enough. It barely patched the abysmal gaps in his heart.

The only suitable punishment was you. Witnessing your suffering was his personally crafted hell. You were the broken remnants of his destruction, the shattered pieces of his idiocy, the explosive fallout of his arrogance.

And you hadn’t answered a single call or text of his. His torturous worry was part of his penalty.

Consecutive rings of the doorbell and incessant knocks remained unanswered. For a moment, Beau rested his forehead on the door. He felt helpless and clueless all the same. You had friends and family to take care of you, probably better suited and closer to you than him, but somehow he felt burdened with the responsibility.

He took the spare key out of the left-side planter and barged inside. The ground floor was deserted. Last night’s uneaten dinner still sat untouched on the table. It felt like a whiplash against his bare back.

Bolting upstairs, he found the door to the main bedroom ajar. He pried it open slowly, the sight of you delivering his second lashing. This time, he felt the sting burning through to his heart.

He found you curled up in bed, on your husband’s side, in your husband’s t-shirt, with your wedding photo album clutched tightly in your arms. His breath halted for a moment; his heart did, too.

Did he do this? Was this all his fault?

“Y/N?” His deep voice was quiet and careful as he spoke. Slowly, he walked over to your side and knelt down in front of you. “Darlin’, hey… You need to get up. Eat somethin’.”

Beau was sure you hadn’t moved all day. He didn’t ask you if you were alright or how you were doing. The question seemed insulting. The answer was obvious. Your phone was lighting up on the nightstand with a million unanswered calls and messages, his own among them. Your beautiful eyes were vacant, red, and empty. You didn’t cry, however, not anymore. You were dehydrated and all out of tears at this point. You never looked at him, not even a glance.

“I want him back,” you whispered, your voice coarse from screaming, crying, cursing.

Beau nodded, licking his lips. Caringly, he caressed your head, brushing a few strands of messy hair out of your face. “I know. I hope you know I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat if I could.”

For the first time your eyes found his. Your gaze was scathing and piercing. “Tell me what happened.”

Beau let out a harrowing sigh. He had rehashed the story all day long. He wasn’t sure if he could do it again, but maybe this version was the most important one. Who deserved the truth more than you?

“Y/N, I don’t think this is such a good idea, darlin’,” Beau tried to reason, mostly for himself. He wanted to hold on a little longer, the idea of you hating him tearing him apart. He wanted to spare himself the additional guilt, the anger, the hurt.

“Tell me or leave.”

Beau closed his eyes and nodded hesitantly. “Okay, alright.” He took a deep breath and settled down on the floor, leaning his back against the wooden bedside table. “We were closing in on that biker gang. Few murders, arms trafficking, drug deals… You know the drill. I’m sure Ra-… he filled you in.”

Not that long ago, Randy had asked you for advise on the case. You gave him your contacts in the DEA and a number to a CI.

“Your DEA guy warned us. Said the gang was working closely with the cartel down in Juárez. But I had my own intel that only a few members were meeting at the Hatcher warehouse in MacGregor. It was supposed to be a small deal. But I figured it could lead to bigger things if we shook ‘em down, you know? But fuckin’ Harper told us no like usual. Refused to give us back-up. Said to pass the case on to the DEA. But Randy and I worked our asses off the last few months to get even this far. We were so close. I didn’t wanna let go… So, I suggested we go in anyways. It was supposed to be only three guys from the gang. I knew if we were smart about it, we could easily take ‘em down, you know?”

You rolled onto your back and propped yourself up on the bed. Shaking your head, you chuckled humorlessly and grabbed the half-empty whiskey bottle from the nightstand. “‘Course you did. It’s not the first time you broke a rule or shit on authority.”

“Yeah, and I was right every single time,” Beau bit. His anger wasn’t geared at you but at himself. He knew he was in the wrong. He flew too close to the sun and got burned. But he still felt the need to defend himself, even if it was unjustified.

His gaze drifted to the dresser and the patch of wall above it, decorated with photographic evidence of yours and his partner’s life together. The wedding, dates, vacations, holidays – it was all there. Beau had watched it all, start to finish. He wished he could rewind the tape and cut off the ending, all so you could have the love of your life back. He didn’t know yet your cassette had a B-side. One that featured him.

“You got fucking lucky, is all,” you scoffed.

“Randy backed me up on it!”

“Of course he did! You’re his fucking partner! He would’ve followed you anywhere if you asked him to,” you snapped, shaking your head. You gulped down some whiskey then and locked your jaw before you met his eyes again with a glare. “And? What happened then, Beau? Was it only three guys?”

“No.” The word was almost inaudible. He shook his head with a harsh swallow. “They were meetin’ with a few cartel members there. My intel never said anything about that. When we were inside and saw what was really going on, it was already too late to get out. They made us, bullets started flyin’… They got a hold of Randy and… shot him.” A tear escaped down his cheek, his throat closing as he tried to choke out the last bit of the story. “I had to leave him there. I barely got out myself. I’m sorry, Y/N. I know this is on me.”

Your lips twitched with a bitter smile. You didn’t look at him, just rubbed your tired eyes. “Damn right it is. Get out.”

“Y/N, please–”

The storm in your eyes made him stop as you met his gaze, his useless apologies becoming stuck in his throat. “I said, get out. I ain’t asking a third time. You’re the reason my husband is dead. You’re the reason I don’t even have a body to bury. So, get the fuck out.” Like a snakebite, your words were targeted, sharp, and venomous.

You finally got out of bed and prodded towards the en-suite bathroom. The truth had been what you needed to switch the fighter inside of you back on. You knew what you wanted to do then and were determined to get it.

“Y/N–”

“Do you know what cartels do to bodies, Beau? To rivals? To law enforcement? ‘Cause I just came back from a job where we found forty-eight decapitated bodies, left to rot inside the walls of a house. Still haven’t found the heads yet. Probably never will,” you told him and stared him dead into his dark green eyes. “Ever seen that before, desperado?”

Beau bit his lips, averting his gaze. “No.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “Now, leave. Please. Get the fuck outta my house. I don’t wanna see you anymore,” you spat and slammed the bathroom door shut behind you.

Beau then grabbed the whiskey bottle you’d left and walked out of your home. It was the first of many nights he started to drink himself to sleep, but at least it kept the nightmares temporarily at bay.

“Theodore.” Beau forced a bright smile onto his freckle-dusted face, although the stiff features could barely fool anyone. At least, they wouldn’t have fooled you.

“Beau, good to see you again.” Ted smiled and did a more convincing job of it as he waltzed into Lewis and Clark County’s Sheriff’s Department. It almost seemed like he meant it. “I was surprised when Y/N told me you got a gig as a sheriff here.”

Translation: I was surprised because you were such a fuck-up back in Texas.

Beau feigned a chuckle. “Yeah, I bet you were.”

“Hopefully, you’re givin’ the DAs here less headaches,” Ted jabbed under the disguise of friendly banter. He then turned to Jenny with that same shit-eating grin. “Your sheriff is a little troublemaker.”

Sweet Lord, Beau wanted to whack the bastard.

The blonde deputy coolly brushed the accusation off. She shrugged and playfully nudged Beau’s arm, sending the Texan attorney a smile. “I prefer him that way.”

“Hey, there she is!” Beau smiled with frazzled relief when you finally hurried into the station. A little while longer, and he definitely would’ve thrown a punch.

“Hey, Ted. Thanks for coming. How was your flight?” You greeted him with a warm smile and a quick hug.

“Good, good. Never been to Montana before,” Ted said and then let his eyes wander up and down your body. “Look at you. You look great!”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” You subtly cleared your throat. You could physically feel Beau stiffen next to you. In your periphery, you could spy a tightly clenched jaw and a few strained muscles in his neck.

“Mind if Y/N and I borrow your office, Sheriff Arlen?” Ted asked and emphasized his title. “Considering the nature of this case, I’d like to keep it as private as possible. Don’t want anything to reach Ms. Newton’s ears.”

Your hunch had been right. Several IP addresses pointed to Diane, some to public Wi-Fi’s. You and the team still needed to connect her to the other states and find out where she’d been staying there, but you could definitely trace some posts in recent weeks to her home in Montana. It was enough for an arrest warrant, but you still needed more evidence.

Additionally, it had all come together a little too easily. It seemed like a giant trap you were walking into. Diane wanted to be caught. But why?

“Why don’t I just join you? I’m sure Y/N here doesn’t mind,” Beau suggested with a tight smile and then snaked his arm around your middle, pulling you closer. “Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Internally, you sighed a little at his obvious territorial pissing, but you were willing to throw him a bone. You stretched up and claimed his plump lips in a fervent kiss that Beau only all too happily reciprocated.

“Not at all, Sheriff. You know I always appreciate your input,” you replied with a dirty smirk at the double entendre.

As Beau looked down at you, he mouthed ‘God, I love you.’ You grinned in response.

“Happy to give it to you,” he said with another sweet peck of your lips. A triumphant and slightly cocky grin graced his lips as he looked back at Ted.

“Oh, so you two are back together?” Ted realized, his brow rising to his hairline. He’d never seen you two together but certainly had heard the whispers down in Mexico from your old task force. He’d been the DA for those cases as well. You’d never explicitly told him about you and Beau, though, even when he had tried to pry a little on those dates you went on.

“Well, I’m a hard one to quit,” Beau quipped almost proudly, like a peacock showing off his fan of feathers.

“As are cigarettes and many other vices,” Ted shot back with the same stupidly proud grin.

Translation: You’re an ass. And a failure. She deserves so much better. I’m ‘better.’ But maybe that didn't need a translation.

Beau should’ve known it was hard to out-argue a lawyer and ground his jaw. After all, he’d been married to one for many years.

You, on the other hand, shared a wide-eyed and baffled look with Jenny that bordered on amusement. You had almost gasped in shock. You hadn’t expected such a fiery reply, sure the men would stick to their Southern manners. But, oh well, everyone’s packing in fucking Texas…

“Why don’t you two go ahead? I’ll join you in a minute,” you ordered more than you earnestly proposed and shooed the two men down the hallway towards Beau’s office.

“Sure it’s such a good idea to lock those two in a room alone?” Jenny teased, her eyes lingering a little too long on Ted’s perfectly formed ass as he sauntered down the hall.

You couldn’t blame her. You had checked out Beau’s in the same breath.

“It’s only for a short time. They’re not gonna kill each other,” you laughed it off. Jenny arched a doubtful eyebrow at you. “That quickly,” you added a correction. “So, what did I miss here?” you asked and nodded towards the two men, closing the door to Beau’s office behind them. All you heard last was them talking about the recent Texans game.

Ugh, of course, they’d end up by football…

“Dick measuring contest,” Jenny supplied wryly.

“Ah, figured…”

“Well, better them than to lock Agent Y/L/N and the sheriff into the same room,” Poppernak joked with a soft chuckle as he appeared next to you and Jenny, chiming into the conversation.

You gaped at him in mock-shock. “Mo! I can’t believe you just said that,” you chided playfully.

His cheeks turned crimson red. “I’m sorry, Special Agent Y/L/N,” he apologized in a fluster.

“Mo, I told you to call me by my first name,” you reminded him with a smile. “Or I’m gonna have to start giving you silly names like Beau does.”

“Oh, I love Sheriff Arlen’s nicknames,” he quickly defended with a nervous laugh.

“Do you?” Jenny tilted her head with a questioning eyebrow.

He shrugged. “They’re clever.”

August 2020

“Old Fashioned,” you ordered with a look at the bartender, feeling Beau’s confused eyes and crinkled brow wander up to you. “Couldn’t have picked a nicer bar, huh? This place is a dump. You know that, right?”

Beau clicked his tongue and took a sip from his Ranch Water. “What are you doing here? Thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You let out a small sigh but didn’t meet his gaze. “Carla called me. Your family is worried about you.”

“I didn’t tell her where I was. How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. Carla said you haven’t been home in three days. Figured you’d gone on a bender. This is the fifth cop bar I checked out. Finally got lucky,” you said and thanked the bartender as he placed his drink in front of you. You settled down on a barstool next to Beau.

“Quite the effort. Sure I’m worth it?”

Your tongue swept over your lips. “Beau, look at me.” His forest-green eyes found yours upon your soft plea. “I’m sorry I put all that shit on you. It wasn’t fair. It’s not your fault, okay? His death isn’t on you. I know you loved him like a brother.”

“I did.” Beau took another sip of his drink. “But it is my fault. I was reckless and arrogant. We both know it.”

“It was a set-up, alright? I talked to my DEA contact. Cody said your intel was wrong. They knew you and Randy were closing in on them. They wanted to get rid of you,” you explained.

Beau smacked his lips. “I still shoulda known better. I should’ve seen it was a trap.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. You couldn’t say you would’ve done the same thing, but you knew Beau would’ve never purposely put Randy in danger if he had even the faintest idea. “But it could’ve happened to anybody. This was bigger than you knew.”

“It wouldn’t have happened to you,” he stated quietly. You couldn’t argue with that. You were more by-the-book than he was. You would’ve never gone against a superior’s order. You would’ve respected it.

“Look, just go home. Talk to your wife. Get some help,” you said. “You missed your suspension hearing, but I spoke on your behalf. Told them it wasn’t your fault. The DEA backed me. Harper’s gonna reinstate you. Just come back as soon as you’re ready.”

Beau nodded slowly. Even if he didn’t say it, you could tell he was thankful for your efforts. “I can’t go home.”

Your brow furrowed. “Why? I’m sure Carla will understand. You need to talk to someone about this. Go to therapy – and not the alcoholic kind. Losing a partner is not something you get over quickly. You need people in your corner, including your wife.”

“You mean the wife that lets criminals out on the street?” Beau’s gaze was focused on the glass in his hands. The wrinkles on your brow deepened. “The guy that shot him… Carla’s his defense attorney. Was, at least. He was supposed to do time, but two months ago, she got him paroled.” With a dark chuckle, he emptied his glass.

“Beau…” You knew he had always struggled with Carla’s job, making you sometimes wonder about their dinner conversations at home. “It ain’t her fault more than it is yours. She’s just doing her job. You know that. You’ve been together for so long, you’d think you’re used to it by now.”

Beau scoffed a chuckle and gestured to the bartender for a refill. “I was a young cop back then. Wasn’t on the job as long. I didn’t know it would bother me so much. Still lived in that hopeful bubble, I guess.”

You smiled knowingly. “You mean the ‘I didn’t think I’d see as much shit and injustice as I do now’ bubble?”

He snickered softly. “Yep, that one. Just didn’t think it’d be this hard, you know?”

“I get it. I mean, me and Carla butt heads all the time over this stuff. But we do it in a competitive fun way and then get drunk,” you said with a light chuckle. “Guess it’s different when you’re married, though, huh?”

“Yeah, it is…” he sighed.

“Still, go home. Talk to her,” you encouraged but could see your words of wisdom fell on deaf ears. “By the way, the funeral’s on Saturday.”

He turned his gaze away from his glass and found your eyes. “You need any help with that?”

“Maybe you can give a eulogy. You knew him best. I think he would’ve really liked that,” you said with a warm smile. No matter your own feelings, you knew deep down Randy would’ve wanted you to forgive his partner.

“Yeah, I can do that. Anything you need, okay?” Beau clasped your hand that laid on the bar counter and squeezed reassuringly before dropping it again.

You smiled appreciatively and teased, “Maybe show up sober. Or at least close-to.”

Beau chuckled a little. “I promise.”

You stood up from your seat then and put some cash for your drink on the counter. “Alright, I’m heading home. You need me to call you a cab?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just gonna finish this drink, then I’ll head out, too,” he said.

“You sure? Don’t make me come back here,” you threatened playfully.

Beau laughed softly. “I won’t. Thanks for everything, Y/N. I mean it.”

You sent him a smile and gave his shoulder a squeeze on your way out. “You’re welcome. Get home safe, okay?”

However, Beau couldn’t keep any of his promises. He made it home after three more drinks and woke up on the front lawn of his house. Carla wasn’t happy when she found him in the morning as she brought Emily to school. But Beau couldn’t stop. Every time he closed his eyes, the tragic events flashed before him like a horror movie, witnessing Randy’s death in a never-ending loop. He kept seeing his partner get dragged away, heard the shot over and over again like a rain of bullets without a ceasefire.

The guilt was eating him alive. The guilt of getting his partner into this mess in the first place. Of leaving him behind. Of surviving and coming out alive when he didn’t deserve to.

So, Beau kept drinking to forget, even though he knew it was a futile endeavor. The memory would never fade, but at least it was blurred.

Your heavy breaths echoed through the small trailer. His mouth moved down the column of your throat, leaving a wet path of ravenous love bites in its wake.

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned wantonly, his grip on your flesh punishing as he kept you pressed flush against him while he devoured you on the little dining table. Your ass sat on the wooden surface, your crossed ankles locked tightly behind his muscular back.

“God, you made me so happy today,” he growled against the shell of your ear, his rising length rubbing against your core through layers of denim.

“I can see that.” You giggled, your hands dangling in his hair. “There’s no need to hate him so much, you know?”

“Says you,” Beau quipped and unzipped your jeans, eagerly pulling them off you as his mouth sucked your clavicle purple and blue. “That slimy coyote always had it out for me.”

Beau removed your panties as well, tossing them behind his shoulder where they landed in the kitchen sink. “Whoops.” He grinned charmingly but was unstoppable, freeing his throbbing dick as he shoved his jeans and boxers barely over his ass. He didn’t bother to slip out of them all the way, too impatient to wait any longer to enter you.

“Still, I’m already yours. I’ve always been yours,” you said and braced yourself on his broad shoulders as one large hand on your back pulled you closer to the edge of the table. His other hand grabbed his cock, twisting his fist along the hard, long shaft a few times before he glided his cockhead through your slick folds.

“Not always.” With one harsh thrust, he pushed inside you, your tight walls fighting to make room for him and adjust to his stretch.

You gasped at the pleasurable burn that coursed through your body and ignited every sizzling nerve. He dropped his head to your shoulder, giving both of you some time to get used to each other. You could tell you were in for a wilder ride tonight. You always loved when he fucked you rough and hard. There was something raw and animalistic about the need in his hypnotizing green eyes.

Beau then claimed your lips with one fervent kiss, enough of a spark to cause a wildfire. He met your gaze, hands gingerly cupping your cheeks. “But I love that you’re mine now. And I’m sure as hell gonna make you mine tonight, darlin’.”

You crashed your lips against his, your kisses frenzied and untamed as his hips began to slam into you. His pounds into your pussy were relentless as you swallowed every inch of him. You gripped him tight, already feeling your first orgasm bloom. It accumulated like dark, violent storm clouds on the horizon, forecasting roaring thunder and heavy rainfall.

“Oh God! Fuck, baby!” You screamed as your climax tore through you like a hurricane, your cunt gushing on his cock and pulsing around him. Your nails dug into his shoulder blades and scratched down his back as you came undone.

Beau groaned into your ear, squeezing his eyes shut as he barely held on himself. But he didn’t let up and kept up his furious pace, not ready to stop yet. “Shit, keep doing that. You’re so fucking tight, Y/N,” he grunted against your skin, your sensitive flesh barely withstanding his ruthless pumps. “Want you to come again, darlin’.”

With his declaration, his hand slipped between your sweat-clad bodies. You came close to losing your mind as he thumbed furiously at your clit, the stars already starting to twinkle in front of your eyes. You could feel yourself get shoved to the edge once more, staring down the steep cliffs of white-hot ecstasy.

Your mind was consumed by need, his grip on your hips bruising as you exploded. You cried out raucously, your whole body quaking in his hold upon your eruption, the aftershocks so powerful they could cause cracks in your bones.

Beau spilled his seed deep inside of you, his body stuttering in rhythm with yours as your earthquake took him down with you. Hazy gazes met each other with lazy smiles as ragged breaths mingled.

“Fuck, that was good. I think that one might make it into our Top Ten.” Beau chuckled gravelly and placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

“Hmm, not sure. We have a few greatest hits.” You giggled and bit down on your lower lip with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. “Can I tell you something?”

Beau cupped your cheeks, thumbs caressing the heated and rosy skin as he lifted your gaze. “Anything.”

“Just between us, you’re the best lover I ever had,” you confessed with a wide grin. The corners of his mouth rose to match yours.

“Well, between us, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. You’re it, darlin’. You know that, right? You’re the love of my life,” Beau revealed, making you smile brighter than you ever had before.

“I’m not sure about the sex, but this moment, right here, is probably gonna make it into the Top Ten,” you said softly as a few tears stung your eyes.

“Good.” Beau smiled and pecked your forehead.

The buzzing of a phone shifted your attention. You recognized it as yours, and Beau was quick to retrieve it from your jeans pocket in the pile of clothes on the floor.

“It’s Jenny,” you told him before picking up. “Hello… What?! Uh-huh, we’ll be right there.”

Beau’s brow furrowed as he watched your features flicker through an array of emotions. “Bad news?”

“Uhm, honestly, I don’t know,” you said and swallowed some of your confusion down, gathering your thoughts. “Jenny said Diane just walked into the station and gave herself up. She is ready to confess but only wants to talk to us.”

“Us? As in us two?” Beau’s eyes narrowed. You nodded. “Well, that doesn’t sound fishy at all,” he commented wryly.

“Yup, I don’t like it.”

Chapter 8: Chemical Bonds

A lot of revelations and foreboding in this one... 👀 Also, I just love having Beau say the word "coyotes" for some reason 😂

Join the TAG LIST here! 🌌 Wanna sponsor my caffeine addiction? ☕️

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @autistic-gothic

Everything Beau Arlen: @snowayumi

Polaris Series: @corruptedcruiser @spnfamily-j2

[ladykailitha]

Howlin' for Yule

Hello and welcome to my Christmas AUvent Calendar! Every day from now until the 24th I will be posting a ficlet that is 500-1500 from an AU I've done over the years.

All stories will be marked with the tag #12 aus of christmas so you can follow along as I will only be tagging my permanent list for this (it would get too confusing otherwise).

The next one on our list is: Werewolf verse. You can read the story here. All links will be to the first chapter, but the chapter itself will have links to the rest of the story.

Do you know how ridiculously proud I am of that title? Do you? Because I am so damn proud of that title. Also welcome to the one that got away from me. I could have kept it short. They dance, they schmooze, and they go home.

But I wanted to write more with this one and when I realized if I wanted this to end on the 24th, I should have started on the 13th, instead of the 12th, I figured I could extend this and post it Christmas Eve.

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9

~

Eddie stood in front of a mirror and fussed with his tie. He usually got a chuckle from seeing his reflection in a mirror because according to Wayne that one only became a myth recently with them no longer using silver to back them anymore. But not even that thought could bring a smile to his face.

Because he had to look super nice for his boyfriend’s big Yule Tide ‘do up at the new vampire coven’s place. After the Creel house had almost burnt down when Jason attacked, Chrissy thought it would be better to move the coven somewhere safer. Closer to civilization so that if that happened again, they could get help faster.

They had bought a beautiful mansion in Loch Nora that was able to house all the remaining members of the coven comfortably. It even had a large room just for balls. Which is what this most certainly was.

When Chrissy suggested it back in October, she had merely suggested party including the vampires and werewolves as a way to foster peace between them. But Steve, the beautiful big brained and even bigger hearted had suggested a Yule Ball for all the supernatural beings in Hawkins.

So that meant that all Eddie’s friends were going to be there and he had to look nice.

“You look like you’re going to a funeral,” Wayne groused from behind him. “Probably your own judging from the sour expression on his face.

Eddie whirled around in shock. Wayne was standing there in early 18th century clothes in golds and browns. He looked amazing. “Why can’t I look like that?!”

Wayne looked down at his attire and then back up. “Would you like to?”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “I mean we really don’t have much time to make me something like that.” He waved at Wayne’s outfit. “Because I don’t think your clothes will fit me very well.”

Wayne chuckled. “Oh ye of little faith. You take that monkey suit off, and I’ll play fairy goduncle. Go on.”

Eddie raised a questioning eyebrow but did as he was told. He hadn’t been gone two scant minutes when he came back and all the clothes were laid out on his bed. Silks, velvet, and lace all in black. He would cut a dashing figure for sure.

He hurried to get dressed and then rushed out to the front to the kitchen and poured out a bowl of milk, placing it on the windowsill.

Wayne chuckled from the living room. “She owed me a favor, but I’m sure she will appreciate the treat anyway.”

Eddie shook his head. “It’s just good manners.”

Wayne nodded solemnly. He had raised this boy right. Not just in the ways of the supernatural, but in the ways of being a good human, too.

Then the sound of horses arriving, clattered outside their window and they both exited the trailer to see an elegant coach and four black horses.

“Your boy sure has a flare for the dramatic,” Wayne huffed as he was helped into the carriage by an actual footman. Something that Wayne had never experienced in his long life.

Eddie could only agree. In the last light of the shortest day of the year, the driver and footman seemed to glimmer as though they had a glamour placed over them to look vaguely human.

They pulled up to the coven’s new home and Eddie let out a wolf whistle. “The new Dominus seems to have her own flare for the dramatic.”

“Nah,” Wayne said as he exited the carriage, “that just comes from being a vampire.”

They were shown into what Eddie could only call a ballroom. It was massive. It was currently setup with long mahogany tables with little nameplates in front of every placement. The eating utensils were gold, the glasses were crystal, and plates were fine china.

It screamed opulence and once Eddie would have turned tail and ran. But not anymore. Being a vampire changed that, for sure, but what really cinched the deal was the man, standing next to the Dominus in a beautiful red and gold outfit similar to what Wayne and Eddie were wearing.

Steve Harrington, Roane Pack Alpha.

~

Day 11 Day 12

NOW WITH PART TWO!

I could have waited until the 23rd to post this one, but there was something symbolic about posting it on the day of the winter solstice. The longest night.

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[febuwhump]

febuwhump 2024 survey results

has it been six months since febuwhump? yes. yes it has. nevertheless, here's the cold hard data (analysis) of the survey from febuwhump 2024: feb five.

firstly, this year was our most popular yet! with 1417 works in the official collection across 329 fandoms, we made (and shared) 103 fics more than 2023, and 770 more than my first year running febuwhump in 2021! this isnt even including all the art and fics posted to tumblr, or wasn't shared during the event, which would put our total so much higher!

the prompt list had 4000+ notes and i received 115 responses to the survey.

there were 62 people in the hall of fame, up from 51 in 2023.

the blog hit 2,683 followers, up from 1,946 at the end of the 2023 event.

across two independant check, based on the average word count of 2,000 words per fic in the 2024 collection, and aware of the multi-chapter fics (some of which were finished after the event), it is estimated that 2.8 million words were written for febuwhump 2024. which is just. fucking insane.

now, onto the survey results!

firstly: in what way did you participate in Febuwhump this year?

with extra write-ins not pictured, fanfiction was the overwhelming winner with 92 responses (82.6%), followed by original fiction (22.6%) and artwork (11.3%). interesting to me personally is the 4 responses who wrote poetry and the not-pictured 1 response who created web-weaving! which is very cool and i would like to see it.

fandoms

according to the survey:

the most popular fandoms written for were the star wars universe and legend of zelda universe (8/115 responses)

21 responses included original fiction

the majority of responses also referenced more than one fandom, meaning less people stuck to a single fandom or topic the entire time.

according to the collection:

21 anime/manga fandoms were represented

51 books/literature fandoms were represented, 12 being specific star wars subseries

24 RPF fandoms were represented, including bands and minecraft servers

the most popular fandoms written about in the collection were:

star wars (all media types) - 253 works

star wars: the bad batch - 80 works

torchwood - 66 works

original work - 56 works

my hero academia - 54 works

why and how

next, there were a lot of really lovely responses about why participants took part in febuwhump, a few favourite and repeated responses being that it seemed fun, they'd done it before and so wanted to do it again, and they liked to write about their favourite characters suffering. also, multiple people have been doing it for three of the four years i've been running it (of five total), and several were encouraged by friends!

the majority of participants discovered febuwhump through tumblr, the admin's tumblr, ao3 fics and discord servers. a handful said there's apparently a google doc floating around that houses a whump event calendar. i would be interested in seeing that if anyone's got it.

did you participate in Febuwhump 2020, 21, 22 or 23?

the majorty of respondants were new comers to febuwhump at 66.1% "no" to 33.9% "yes". the majority of comparisons to previous years referenced a noticably bigger community, more interaction on the blog, and the admin being more "confident" (oh, you guys), however several noted that the prompts felt more repetitive or samey this year than they did previously.

are you a Febuwhump completionist or participant?

a fairly even split, 51.3% of participants didn't finish compared to the 48.7% who did. however, only 88.1% of those completionists submitted to the hall of fame.

for those who didn't complete, the most common amount of prompts completed was 2 (13.6%), 3 (11.9%) and 12 or 6 (6.8%).

the most common place to share prompt fills was tumblr (74.8%), ao3 (72.2%), or choosing not to share at all (7%). several write-in responses said that they were planning to share in the future but hadn't yet. and while 76.4% of people submitted to the ao3 collection, those who didn't claimed it to be because the fics weren't ready to be shared on time, they weren't following the rules so didn't add to the collection, an inability to find the collection on ao3 (i swear i'm working on it) or shyness/fear.

what went well/even better if:

the only actual criticsm of the event received was that the blog was posting in a "spam"-like way, to the point that the participant almost unfollowed (and another suggested a reblog tag so it could be ignored easier if people didn't want to see the works throughout the month).

several comments asked for a later deadline for submission to the collection/hall of fame, which is going under advisement, but the current position is that by doing so, it makes the event a different event. there are no stakes to actually create once a day if, at the end of it, you actually get 2 weeks of extra time.

another couple mentioned there being too many dialogue prompts and vague prompts. this will be considered during the next voting period and prompt collation - potentially, if i allowed less dialogue prompts into the final 100 vote, less would make it through to the official 28, however the voting itself is out of my hands (unless voter fraud occurs once again).

the main suggestion for improvement (8 times out of 44 suggestions) was for an additional mod to help with reblogging more. (which imo flies in the face of the "spamming" from earlier, but there is surely a middle ground). this is likely to not happen, because i like running the event alone, despite the major burnout i receive every single year without fail. but thanks for your concern lol.

on discord:

31.3% of participants were in the discord server (which, this year, ignored the first year's 100 user cap and had 172 total users).

43.6% of people who didn't join the server did so because they hadn't heard of it, while the majority didn't join because they were either shy (the minorty) or don't use/like discord (the vast majority). i don't know if tumblr still does groupchats and if that would be a viable alternative, or if there is another forum/chat location that would work better (or to have in tandem), but i am open to suggestions.

of the people who were in the channel, most (33.3%) used it "rarely", followed by "most days" (25%) and "for half the month" (22.2%)

febuwhump 2025

the majority of responses wanted next year's colour scheme to either be red or green, but shout out to everyone who wanted orange, the person who said "children's hospital" and the other person who gave me this specific hex code: #4BEC13

which is vile, but also another vote for green.

finally, here are my favourite suggestions for febuwhump 2025's colloquial name. previously, we have endured febuwhump 2: electric boogaloo, febuwhump 3: tokyo drift, fourbuwhump and feb five.

febuwhump 6 suggestions:

fe6uwhump (which, i'll be honest, is a real contender)

"I don't know"

febuwhump 666

febuwhump: revenge of the sixth

"I don't know, sorry"

"febuwhump sex and make all the prompts kinky"

"??? i have been thinking about this for 10 mins"

febuwhump 6(9)

feBEEwhump

"i am bad at this"

"could not care less"

febuwhump feb five 2: electric boogaloo

apparently, i accidently made this a mandatory question and that made some of you mad :(

and that's the wrap up survey, six months late! any questions/queries/want to see some of that cold hard data? send me an ask. i'll actually respond to it i swear! (probably!)

[bigtreefest]

Bigger Houses Masterlist

An Ari Levinson Series based off Dan + Shay’s latest album

Mountain Ranger! Ari x Female Reader

Main Masterlist

Series Summary: A year after shattering break-ups, two hearts start life anew in the Rocky Mountains. It’s always just when you swear off love that a new beast crosses your path.

*chapters are arranged in the order they are to be read but track # in parenthesis is as they are on the album

1. Breakin’ Up With a Broken Heart (Track 1)

2. Heartbreak On The Map (Track 3)

3. Save Me The Trouble (Track 2)

4. Neon Cowgirl (Track 11)

Thunder + Birds

5. Heaven + Back (Track 7)

Leads to You

Rocky Road

The Pizza Incident

6. Missing Someone (Track 9)

In The Stars

A Night Out

7. Then Again (Track 6)

8. What Took You So Long (Track 8)

Take a Stab

Garden Party

9. For The Both Of Us (Track 5)

You’re a Gem

Words Are Just Words Unless They’re Verbs

10. We Should Get Married (Track 10)

Keep it Move-in

Bound to You

11. Bigger Houses (Track 12)

A Little … Snow

Even Bigger Houses

12. Always Gonna Be (Track 4)

Drabbles & Extras

Sexy Sasquatch

How they Show Their Love (ask answer)

Who they run to (ask answer)

Happiness and Jealousy (ask answer)

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ War Chapter 7

Trigger Warnings: None

The tension in the pack was palpable. The haunted house had become the focal point of everyone’s worry, especially for the head alpha. For two weeks, Chan, Jeongin, Changbin, and Seungmin patrolled the area relentlessly, keeping an eye on the foggy barrier and any signs of Hongjoong. Yet, the house stood silent, its dark aura unnervingly still. Lucas and Moon, meanwhile, were trapped within the confines of their home. Grounded and under constant supervision, they could do little but stew in their own guilt and frustration.

“Nothing again,” Changbin muttered as he emerged from the tree line, his sharp eyes scanning the clearing. Chan, standing a few feet away, nodded grimly. “It’s been the same every night. No sign of Hongjoong, no sign of activity. It’s like he’s disappeared.” Jeongin, crouched near the base of a tree, spoke without looking up. “Or he’s waiting. He knows we’re watching.” Seungmin crossed his arms, his expression as cold and calculating as ever. “It doesn’t matter how long he waits. We’ll keep patrolling. If he shows himself, we’ll handle it.” Jeongin finally stood, brushing dirt off his hands. “We need to be careful. The boys said Hongjoong asked for help, but if he’s free now, he might be plotting something. We can’t underestimate him.” Chan sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Do you think the pack is safe? Or should we start warning the others?” Jeongin shook his head. “Not yet. If word gets out, it could lead to panic—or worse, other packs thinking we’ve sided with Hongjoong. We keep this contained.” Seungmin nodded in agreement. “And we keep watching.”

Back at the house, Lucas sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Moon was slumped in the chair by the desk, his arms crossed and his expression sour. “This sucks,” Moon muttered. “Tell me about it,” Lucas replied. “I get why they’re mad,” Moon continued. “But it’s not like we wanted to cause trouble. We were trying to help.” Lucas sat up, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Exactly! But no one cares about that. They’re just treating us like kids.” “Maybe because we are kids,” Moon pointed out. Lucas glared at him. “Not helping.” The door opened, and their mother, Y/N, stepped in. Her usually warm expression was shadowed with worry. “Boys,” she said, her tone firm but gentle. “We need to talk.” They both straightened, bracing themselves for another lecture. “I know you think we’re being harsh,” Y/N began, sitting on the edge of Lucas’s bed. “But this isn’t just about you. What you did put the entire pack at risk. You might not understand that now, but one day, you will.” Lucas looked down, guilt twisting in his stomach. “We were just trying to help,” he said quietly. “I know,” Y/N said, her voice softening. “But some problems are bigger than us. That’s why we have the alphas and betas to handle things like this. You need to trust them.”

Moon nodded reluctantly, but Lucas stayed silent. “I’m worried about both of you,” Y/N continued. “This isn’t something you should be involved in. That’s why we’re making a plan to keep you safe.” Lucas frowned. “What kind of plan?” Y/N smiled faintly. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Later that evening, Y/N met with Felix and Minho in the kitchen. The boys were asleep, and the house was quiet, save for the soft murmur of their voices. “They’re restless,” Y/N said, leaning against the counter. “Especially Lucas. He feels like we’re not listening to him.” Minho sipped his tea, his expression thoughtful. “Lucas has always been headstrong. He’s like you in that way—he doesn’t back down easily.” Felix nodded. “But he’s also smart. If we give him something to focus on, something to make him feel useful, it might keep him out of trouble.” “What do you suggest?” Y/N asked. Felix hesitated, then said, “We could involve him in the patrols—not directly, of course, but maybe give him small tasks. Something to keep his mind busy.” Minho shook his head. “That’s too risky. The last thing we need is for Lucas to think he’s part of this fight.” Y/N sighed. “I just want to protect them. Both of them. But I know Lucas. If we keep shutting him out, he’s only going to push harder.” Minho set down his cup, his gaze serious. “Then we need to be honest with him. Not about everything, but enough to make him understand why this is so dangerous.” Felix nodded in agreement. “And we need to keep a closer eye on the house. If Hongjoong really is gone, we need to know where he went—and why.” Y/N nodded, her resolve strengthening. “Then we’ll do whatever it takes. For the pack—and for our boys.”

The next morning, Jeongin called a meeting with the pack’s alphas to discuss their next steps. “The patrols haven’t found anything,” Jeongin said, addressing the group. “But that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear. We need to stay vigilant.” Chan leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. “And the boys? What do we do about them?” “They’re grounded,” Minho said. “But Lucas especially is struggling. He feels responsible for Hongjoong.” “He’s just a kid,” Changbin said, his voice filled with concern. “He shouldn’t have to deal with this.” “I agree,” Jeongin said. “But we also can’t ignore what happened. Lucas and Moon need to understand the gravity of this situation.” Y/N spoke up, her voice steady. “Felix and I have been talking. We think it might help to give Lucas some responsibilities—something to make him feel like he’s contributing without putting him in harm’s way.” Jeongin considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Fine. But it needs to be closely monitored. No more surprises.” The alphas agreed, and the meeting adjourned, leaving the pack with a renewed sense of purpose—and a lingering sense of unease.

For the next few days, the patrols continued, but the house remained silent. Lucas and Moon, though still grounded, found small ways to keep themselves busy. Lucas, in particular, threw himself into his studies, trying to distract himself from the lingering guilt But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. Something bigger than any of them could anticipate.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@silentreadersthings @ihrtlix @galaxy4489 @catlove83 @linocz @eastjonowhere @jennibahng @hyunmikim @hpnsfwaddict

[rainynightmoonlight]

GOOOD MORNING NIGHT CITY! | Cyberpunk Edgerunners x Male Reader

This is also on my Wattpad and Quotev! Enjoy!

Description: My Final Destination

Chapter 1: GOOOD MORNING NIGHT CITY! | You are Here

Chapter 2: Yesterday's body count lottery rounded out to a solid 'n' sturdy thirty! | TBW

Chapter 3: Ten outta Heywood - thanks to the unabated gang wars! | TBW

Chapter 4: One officer down, so I guess you are all screwed. | TBW

Chapter 5: 'Cause the NCPD will not let that go. | TBW

Chapter 6: Got another blackout in Santo Domingo. | TBW

Chapter 7: Netrunners are at it again, pokin' holes in the power grid. | TBW

Chapter 8: In Westbrook, Trauma Team's scrapin' cyberpsycho victims off the pavement. | TBW

Chapter 9: And in Pacifica... Well... Pacifica is still Pacifica. | TBW

Chapter 10: This has been your man, Stan. Join me in another day in our City of Dreams! | TBW

Chapter 11: Cause I really Wanna Stay at Your House | TBW

Night city. Colorful. Neon lights everywhere you looked. But that's not what makes Night City. Not by a long shot. What makes it, are the people. 

Everyone around knows the hardships and the importance of a group. Be it a gang or friends. Doesn't matter. Find your found family and your set. 

Another thing that Night City is known for is its chromed out citizens. It's not for everyone, but those that can handle the consequences get all kinds of body mods. From new eyes to even iron lungs. This isn't for the faint-hearted. 

Especially the cyber psychos that show the dangers of what it does to your body. No one wants to die like that, but they do. Either from police, trauma team, or themselves. 

Night City also houses many legends amongst its streets. Legends that give hope for a better life. One without the slums and the corpo assholes that control everything. Everyone wants a taste of that high life.

But that high life doesn’t sit well once you have it. Legends have to die at some point. That’s how they become legends. Remembered forever amongst the next generation until another rises up and makes a bigger name. 

Among those very streets was a boy. He wasn't new to the troubles in the city. They were very clear to him. Didn't help with his background.

Corpo kid, Arasaka Academy Prodigy now drop out. There was a story. A story lost to the guns and crimes. Crimes he needed to commit to live. To survive.

No one could pry out his past from his lips. It was one of those open secrets. Details, not something anyone cared about. As long as you showed and completed your share of work, no one asked. 

He didn't mind. Made it easier to hide. Easier to run. Especially made it easier to work.

Being a merc was freeing. You were respected, feared even but there was power in it. Power that everyone craved. And he ran with the best. 

Edgerunners. Maine, Dorio, Sasha, Pilar, Rebecca, and Falco. The origins of them anyway. 

After a mission gone wrong, or rather a change of targets, Sasha died. Was it a noble death? Well the news she leaked was everywhere the next day, so maybe. 

Didn't make the hurt go away. Not for Y/n.

That's right. The aforementioned boy. His name was Y/n. But names don't matter. Most called him N/n anyway. Better handle. Didn't have the weight of the memories. 

Back to the edgerunners. Kiwi replaced Sasha. She was a good net runner, nothing compared to Y/n though. Rarely did he ever do runs but when he did, flawless didn't begin to cut it. 

Never does net running much. Reminds him too much of a past that he wanted to escape. That’s why he chose to be with Maine. Was like a father to him. Better than his actual dad. The edgerunners were a better family to him overall. 

His past is blurry to most, likes to keep it that way. No one in night city needs to know about it. Needs to know of his corpo connections and give him shit for it. That was. Until Kiwi brought Lucy

Lucy was Y/n’s saving grace. For some reason and miraculous luck, Y/n became Lucy’s best friend. Much like a lapdog to Lucy. It was an even more shock that she didn’t push him away. 

She knew Y/n way before. His records were in the Arasaka archives. Part of their big experiment to make the perfect weapon of net runner and muscle. Who else could take on the old net? Project was a bust though when Y/n ran away. Away from the pain and abuse that the person who was supposed to love him the most inflicted. 

Y/n decided to live with Lucy. Maine thought it was a good way to keep an eye on the newbie and gave Y/n a friend around his age. Thinking like a father. A father who cared. 

Over time Y/n and Lucy became like siblings. Opening up to each other was a huge feat in itself. In a place like Night City, that kind of trust is rare. Not like the other would spill it. Similar situations. Similar Traumas. Similar people being after them.  

That’s when the two started going on missions together. Y/n being the stubborn ass he is refused to ever go on missions alone. Not unless Lucy was there with him. The codependency. 

“God damn it Y/n! Why do you need Lucy for everything? Before she came you were independent. What changed?”

Maine only ever asked once. He regretted it. Never once did he see Y/n break down like he did after Maine yelled at him. He didn’t apologize though. It needed to be said. 

“I… I need her okay? Things are different now. She’s like me…”

Maine only sighed. Desperation. Rare, especially in a boy like Y/n. He understood though. Nothing more was said. Only a pat on a head and silence. 

Y/n never stopped being clingy with Lucy, but it got better. Just a tad. Y/n was able to go on his own missions. Though it was out of fear of disappointing everyone else. He couldn’t handle that. He couldn’t handle their rejection. 

A year was all it took for Y/n and Lucy to become inseparable. It was concerning how connected the two became. You don’t get that kind of connection here. Not without tragedy. 

“I want to go to the moon.”

Lucy shared one night. The two were on a roof together. Artificial pizza was placed between them. 

“The moon? Why? There’s not much up there.” 

Lucy didn’t respond. She couldn’t explain it to him. She couldn’t tell Y/n how she wanted to leave. It would break his heart. But what are broken hearts if your dreams get shattered? Emotions were useless in this world. Being soft gets you nowhere. 

“Come with me.”

A compromise. If she couldn’t tell him why then at least she can show him. She can take him with her. Protecting him from Night City and everyone else around them. Only a pipe dream.

“Huh?”

Y/n was more than caught off guard by the sudden invitation. Was it even one? By the sounds of it, it sounded more like desperation. Lucy never showed desperation 

“When we get enough, come to the moon with me.”

The thought further intrigued Y/n. He didn't understand this need. Was Lucy telling him she wanted him? She willingly wanted him around?

“Okay. I make it my promise! We’ll go to the moon together! You can show me what’s so great about it!”

Lucy could only let out a light hearted scoff at Y/n's softness. This boy. He didn't know much about the world. How could he when he was so sheltered?

“I could show you now.”

“Really!?”

That excitement. Something that Lucy never could get used to. Y/n was a rare individual. Someone who showed his rare and raw emotions. 

“Yeah you gonk. BDs remember?” 

That night, the moment the two of them got home, they spent hours on the special moon BD Lucy had. It was amazing. Seeing something different, a place where corpos didn’t rule yet was refreshing. Going around the craters and the moon buggy, all of it was hope inducing. A world where no one can control you. 

As the year went on, Lucy and Y/n only ever became closer. The sibling duo among the group, apart from Pilar and Rebecca. Nothing could bring Y/n away from Lucy. Maine joked about him being Lucy’s guard dog. Whenever Pilar was weird with Lucy, Y/n was right behind, biting and clawing at the guy. 

Had to have the others break up the fight before Y/n actually killed Pilar. Rebecca couldn’t help laughing at her older brother’s demise. Deserved it anyway. Not shortly after did the group go to Afterlife for some drinks.  Lucy took this chance of inebriation to speak with Y/n privately.

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” Lucy’s threshold for annoyances was being pushed. Either Y/n was playing dumb or drank too much to even think properly. Either way she needed a clear answer. 

“Attack Pilar.”

“He was making you uncomfortable.”

“I could have taken care of it myself.”

Lucy huffed out a breath. She didn’t like being treated like she was helpless. Whether Y/n meant it or not, it was really troublesome and irritating. He hovered over her. She didn’t quite understand why. 

“I know…”

“Then why?”

The pause. It was deafening despite the music playing around them. 

“I… You’re so amazing and you gave me so much even with knowing me for a short time. You’re like my family Lucy. More so than Maine and Dorio and everyone else. You’re my sister. Someone who knows my struggles on a personal level. I owe you so much. I want to protect you.”

Eyes widened at the admission. God Y/n really was an idiot. 

“You don’t have to repay me for anything.”

“I do though.”

“You don’t!”

It was a cycle of ‘I dos’ and ‘don’ts’ until Y/n started to tear up. God did Lucy make him feel so vulnerable. ‘

“I do! Because if I don’t I’ll turn around and you won't be there anymore. One day I’ll wake up and you won’t be there. You don’t realize how much I need you in my life! I have no one else!”

Guilt. The god damn guilt. Y/n’s tears fought hard not to be released but it was a war lost. Gleaming droplets cascaded down Y/n’s cheeks, making the boy look like a child. No one could ever stay mad at him.

In this moment of vulnerability, Lucy wrapped her arms around Y/n. She decided against speaking. No more words needed to be shared. Y/n didn’t need to be upset further. Only Lucy saw these tears. Weakness didn’t need to be shared with peering eyes. 

A few more instances happen where Y/n went feral when something happened to Lucy. No one could ever stop him and neither did they really care. As long as the job got done then why did it matter?

It did help with disputes and fights. Y/n being the main muscle with Maine. Taking care of all the fist related business together. Now, no one was lacking in muscle within the crew but Y/n almost had Maine beat with the power of his punch. 

A few more months passed. Time never mastered though. Both Lucy and Y/n were out and about. They ended up in Corpo Plaza. A place Y/n never liked, not just because of the name but because of the people around and the worst building that stood tall. Arasaka Tower. If capitalism could be personified, it would be Arasaka Tower. 

The two had planned to do some odd jobs around the area, maybe pick some sockets or something. Anything to keep them busy and make money. Y/n stood with Lucy while she smoked. He never participated in it himself. The habit reminded him too much of someone. But when Lucy did it, he couldn’t help but want to be around. 

While Y/n’s eyes watched the smoke plume around the already suffocating atmosphere, he couldn’t help but see how much Lucy stood out. Compared to everyone else around them, Lucy could be seen from everywhere. It was the hair. 

Y/n blinked a few times. He thought he was tripping but he didn’t remember taking anything before. Lucy's hair sparkled. What was this?

He wasn’t the only one who noticed. 

Y/n’s eyes trailed over and noticed a boy looking at the back of Y/n’s head. He looked familiar. Y/n was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the voice that soothed him over and over. 

“What are you staring at?”

Y/n froze. Lips nursing as if he was caught doing something wrong. What made it more anxiety inducing was Lucy didn’t even look at Y/n. 

“Nothing. Thought I saw something.”

“You're a bad liar, Y/n.”

Y/n didn’t respond. He just glanced over to see the boy that had been staring was gone. 

“What are we doing here anyway?”

“We have a job to do. Maine wanted us to keep busy.”

Y/n the ever obedient personification of a puppy nodded along and followed Lucy. Doing everything he was told. An old habit. A habit hated himself for. He hated him for. 

The day was spent with the two of them working to bring in eddies. That night had a full moon, which led to Y/n dragging Lucy to the badlands to watch the moon. It was calm and quiet. Something that could be seen as off putting, but it wasn’t.

It was… nice.

“Why’d you bring me here?” “Wanted to look at the moon with you. It’s clearer out here. I found this spot when I was driving around with Maine.”

Lucy felt so happy that Y/n took her fascination with the moon seriously. Many would think it was stupid to want to go somewhere that failed. But it wasn’t that to Lcuy, and it certainly wasn’t to Y/n. 

Y/n would defend Lucy’s dreams till the day he died. And even then he would keep defending her. 

No more words were exchanged. Only silence and the distant sounds of cars every now and then on the dirt road.  Moments like these under the moonlight were never taken for granted. 

Here was where Y/n belonged. His purpose. His family.

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[0fantasma0]

Petals to Thorns

{Chapter One}

General Fic Warnings: NSFW, dubcon, stalking, manipulation, possessive behavior, canon typical violence.

Chapter Two:

The sun was up, but you saw no reason to move from your spot at the kitchen table. A beautiful orange glow streams through the white curtains of your dining room. The soft light gleams against the tiny metal-tipped tool you use to whittle the chunk of alder wood in your palm.

This was your routine.

Sleeping well into the early evening to spend your nights at the kitchen table carving. It keeps your mind focused and your hands busy. You’d never thought your hands being unoccupied would be a bad thing until you started picking your lips raw. A nasty habit you haven't been able to kick since your games.

The other positive of sleeping through your days was that you missed all the people who came to your door. It had been a little under a month since you returned, and people were still dropping by. Most came to leave flowers or bottles of booze; some even left a few cords of wood. Thoughtful, but it would be several more months before you could put your new fireplace to use.

Nobody ever knocked, but just knowing they were on the other side of the door was enough to make you want to disintegrate. You couldn’t imagine trying to greet any of them. The walk from the train station to your new home in Victor's Village proved to be challenging enough.

Seeing the faces of your fellow District 7 inhabitants was somehow worse than being goaded by Capitol cretins.

Some cheered, some cried, and some didn’t say anything at all.

They were disgusted by you.

You slam the tool on the mahogany table below. Rubbing your eyes with your thumb and pointer finger, you were in desperate need of background noise. Your old radio busted a week ago, and you hadn’t worked up the courage to buy a new one.

You really should go to the market.

It was only a half mile from the Village, and walking might be pleasant. You could perhaps trade some of your woodwork for goods like you always have. Though, you didn’t need to barter anymore. The Capitol’s generous compensation for your efforts ensured that you never had to worry about the usual obstacles of District life again.

Maybe tomorrow.

Bracing yourself on the table as you stand from your chair. You drop your chin to your chest and stretch your achy limbs briefly before starting the long trek to the bathroom. This house was much bigger compared to the one-room shack you once called home. You weren’t sure who, but somebody had taken the liberty of moving all your belongings into your new home in the Village. They had even organized your clothes in the closet and hung your family pictures on the walls.

It had to have been Flora.

You fail to keep her son alive, and yet she still takes the time to make your transition easier. The mother of three was well known for her compassion and willingness to help others—traits very few people still possess.

What you did to still deserve her kindness, you were unsure.

Finally arriving at your destination, you nearly melt at the sight of the porcelain tub. Twisting the silver handle, you let the warm liquid slide down your hand before reaching its final destination.

A bath and then bed.

You had only just managed to fall into a dreamless sleep when the sound you had been dreading hearing echoed up the hall.

A knock.

Remaining still in your bed, perhaps whoever it was would think you weren’t home and go away.

Another knock.

Throwing the covers back, you grab the pair of trousers you left to rot on the floor. You tuck your white long-sleeve shirt into the waistband while searching for a belt or suspenders to hold your pants in place. Most of your pants and shirts once belonged to your father, and to say they were ill-fitting would be an understatement. Finally finding a pair of suspenders, you clip them on and shrug them over your shoulders as you walk down the stairs to your front door.

Hovering for a moment over the door knob, you take a deep breath. It was probably just a child or maybe even somebody you went to school with. You didn’t have a lot of friends per se, but you were friendly with almost everyone.

So why were you scared?

Turning the lock and twisting the handle, your eyes squint as the hot summer sun blinds you momentarily. Your vision slowly brings the figure in front of you into focus before a familiar, icey voice clues you into who your visitor is before you can finish fitting the pieces of their face together.

“Good morning.”

Coriolanus Snow.

He is as well put together as the last time you saw him. His hair combed back, and a perfectly tailored black vest hugged his torso and made the white of his dress shirt shine against the rest of his dark ensemble. Did he know it was a million degrees outside?

“Good morning,” You manage to choke out. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

He smiles kindly, like you would greeting an old friend.

“That’s quite alright. May I come in?”

No, you can’t come in.

“Of course.” You move to the side and open the door a little wider.

Why was he here? Gamemakers never usually leave the safety of the Capitol. There was more hate for Gamemakers than for Peacekeepers; plenty of disgruntled family members of fallen tributes would gladly hang if it meant there was one less Gamemaker in this world.

He’s here to arrest you.

Coriolanus takes his time surveying the state of your home, stopping at a picture of your mother laughing as you dangle from the maple tree that once grew outside your childhood home.

He’s alone. You could take him.

“Can I get you something to drink? I don’t have much right now, but I do have coffee.” You ask as you move towards your kitchen, hoping to create a little distance between you.

“A glass of water if you could.” He calls back, seemingly still looking at the picture on the wall. It takes a few tries to find the cabinet with your cups in it; still unfamiliar with the layout. Bringing the glass over the sink, you stare out the window as it fills with water.

If he were here to arrest you, you would have already been dragged through the mud and on your way to a cell or the hanging tree by now. Any chance they could take to make a spectacle of a rebel’s torture or death, they would.

Is that what you are now? A rebel?

You didn’t feel like one, but the secret you harbored was undoubtedly an act of rebellion.

“Did you make these?”

You jump at the sound of Coriolanus’ voice behind you. Looking down, you see the cup has been overflowing for some time and has soaked your shirt sleeve. Shutting the water off, you quickly grab the washcloth next to the sink and wipe off the outside of the cup.

Turning around, you see the Gamemaker has one of your sculptures in his hand. A chickadee. It looked so much smaller in his hand. Coriolanus seems to consider the wooden bird before moving on to another sculpture. A rabbit whose ears you were still working on defining.

“These are lovely,” He muses, carefully returning the rabbit to its place in the ecosystem you have amassed at your kitchen table. “Do you only carve animals?”

Why do you care?

“No, I uh,” You hold out your hand, inviting him to sit across from you, placing the cold glass of water in front of him as you take your place at the head of the table. “I can make tools and cutlery, too; I was commissioned to make a jewelry box a while back. That was a unique challenge.”

There is a moment where you almost forget you're talking to a Gamaker—the very same man who boasted about his involvement in creating your prison cell.

Especially when he’s looking at you like that.

His expression is much softer than it was when you first met him. The threatening air that you felt before is nowhere to be found, and he seems content to let you continue talking if you so choose. His blue eyes don’t leave yours as he lets the quiet hang for a moment longer before straightening his back.

“I apologize for showing up unannounced. But I’m here on behalf of The Capitol.”

You’re fucked.

Like the young man could sense your immediate unease, he continues calmly.

“There have been reports of increased rebel activity in District 7. Now, this isn’t unusual. We’ve found there is a spike in this sort of conduct following a particularly emotional game like yours.”

You remain silent.

“I’m here to investigate these claims and ask a favor of you.”

A favor? That’s brave.

“The Capitol sends Gamemakers to deal with rebels?” You can’t help but scoff.

Coriolanus seems to find it funny as well. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“I studied military theory in university and served as a Peacekeeper in District 12. They send whoever they believe best represents and upholds Panem’s values.”

Silence fills the room once more.

You cross your arms in front of your chest and shift as far back in the chair as possible. You catch a slight twitch in the Gamemaker’s cheek when he notices the albeit small but important change in your posture.

“We’ve found that Victors tend to be the best at dissuading these acts,” He intertwines his fingers in front of him on the table. “I’m not asking you to make a speech. Just to be an example to the others in your District.”

“An example of what exactly?” The weight of your exhaustion is starting to wear you down.

“An example of compliance, order, loyalty. Show them the truth. That we are better and safer united as one.”

He wants you to be a mouthpiece.

To have you whisper Capitol rhetoric into their ears under the guise that it’s coming from one of their own. Easier to swallow that way, perhaps. But there was no way you’d be able to convince anyone that their children weren’t worth fighting for.

Not that you ever would, for anybody, at any cost.

“I would love to help with your rebel problem.” You mutter. “Unfortunately, I hold very little weight in the minds of the people in this District.”

The Gamemaker’s brows bunch together like he couldn’t tell if you were facetious. He nods slowly before you watch his eyes wander back to the chickadee. The first time his gaze has left yours, this entire conversation.

Coriolanus slowly unlaces his fingers in front of the bird, lingering like he wished to hold the tiny wooden creature once more. It seems to be a fleeting thought, though, as he quickly tangles his fingers back together

Had this been a different conversation and him a different man, you might have even offered to let him take it.

“I think you will find that to be quite the contrary.” Coriolanus abruptly pushes himself away from the table. You flinch before mimicking his actions and stand. “In any case, I will be available to you should you encounter anything troubling.”

He pushes in his chair, taking extra care not to knock the table. You feel dizzy from getting up so fast but try not to let the heaviness in your head become apparent to the Gamemaker.

The last thing you needed was Coriolanus Snow, knowing you were barely put together.

“I have to meet with Commander Ward, but there are other things I would like to speak with you about.”

Of course there is.

“You know where to find me.” You give a practiced, polite smile, which he returns. For a second, the blonde looks as though he has more to say. His lips part, and you find yourself holding your breath.

“Thank you for your time. I’ll see myself out.”

You wait until you hear the sound of the door opening and closing before you rush down the hall to lock it behind him. Steadying yourself on the wall, you gulp down some much-needed air. The late morning heat was starting to fill the house, but you felt cold and clammy. A symptom no doubt brought on by the Gamemaker.

Finding your way back to the kitchen, you stop in the door frame, your gaze settling on the untouched glass of water. Your chest burns with an emotion you can’t put a name to. It weighs heavy, and you feel the need to cry.

The promise of return made by Coriolanus only further fuels the flame growing beneath your sternum.

Next time you won’t open the fucking door.

Stomping over to the table, you snatch up the cup. Water spills over the edge as you raise your arm in the air. You aim at the empty hutch located behind the table and watch as it shatters into countless glistening pieces all over the floor.

It felt cathartic for a fraction of a second before your senses return as you realize the mess you’ve made.

A problem for later

On unsteady feet, you start for the stairs. White knuckling the railing as you climb your way up, perhaps your bed would grant you the relief you hoped you would find in the broken glass.