#but I couldn't do it. it was such a slog to get through

[furrama]

I should try to read Earthsea again. I have the complete works hardback brick next to my bed. The last time I tried to read it I didn't like the way it was written, it was too zoomed out. Maybe I'll try again.

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[bananayuyu]

Tell Me No {1}

Pairing: professor!Yunho x f reader

Genre: smut, dark academia vibes

Word count: 6.3k

Summary: You'd always been a picture perfect college student. So when Professor Jeong gives you a grade that threatens your flawless track-record, you'll do just about anything to raise it.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, age gap not specified but it's obviously there, reader wants him bad but is kinda in denial, dry humping, heavy petting, lots of praise

A/n: Professor Yunho always hits, I've seen so many fics on here that I've loved but I just had to make my own. I hope y'all enjoy <3 (I'm working on a part 2 and part 3 for this now, lmk if you want to be tagged!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Read it on ao3

Professor Jeong was remarkably smart, remarkably tall, and remarkably well-liked. There wasn't a thing he could do, it seemed, to upset anyone. His third year as faculty, he was already surpassing all expectations the Dean and Vice President had set. It was a revelation: all his students absolutely adored him, every single one. All, except for you.

It was late fall, and the weather was starting to turn. Leaves were falling in clouds of red and yellow, and the air was crisp in the mornings. The entire week the sky was overcast, not a ray of sunshine to remind you of the warm season just past. It felt gloomy, calm, and focused on campus, and it should have been the perfect start to your favorite time of year.

It should have been. But as you sat in your Contemporary Literature class and read over the marks on your most recent paper, you felt nothing but rage.

63%. That's what he'd given you. That, and a slew of notes in red ink along every margin, telling you just how poorly you'd screwed this whole thing up. You didn't much care for contemporary books, that was the worst part; this was a class you were required to take as a part of your literature degree, and one you'd dreaded taking, no matter how many raving reviews you'd heard about the professor. It was an added slap in the face that he was so damn harsh with grading, when you really couldn't give a fuck about the books you'd been assigned to read.

It only took a week of class before you understood. His good looks, his sense of humor, his easy and flirtatious nature, those were the things that made every student love him. Class itself was a slog, but you'd been expecting that at least, and made it through your first two papers with decent grades. Only three papers and a final exam were graded in his class, and you panicked every time you handed one in, not knowing if you'd be able to pass with at least a 70% and get your much needed credits. But so far it had been fine; you'd never needed to ask him much, never seen a reason to visit office hours. You had no desire to talk to this good-looking professor, even if your mind wandered in his class. It was all too easy to picture him in all his naked glory, but a part of you knew your dreams must be too good to be true, and you'd hate to have the illusion shattered.

It wasn't out of character for you to crush on a teacher. And it wasn't that you hated him. But what good was a hot professor if he was going to fuck up all of your plans?

"Hey, did he screw you too?" a voice behind you asks. You didn't bother turning around, knowing the aggravating man it had come from and exactly the conversation he was hoping for.

"Yes, obviously," you answer. Professor Jeong's a fucking asshole, you add to yourself. Dad's gonna fucking kill me.

Here on Daddy's money, you were that girl. And though it was an obvious perk, it came with one severe expectation. You would be done in four years, and never get below a C. There would be no making up credits, no re-dos. Summer was meant to be spent interning, not making up for stupid mistakes during the year. Your dad's words ring clearly through your mind as you sigh into your desk.

"Wanna go get coffee and bitch about prof for an hour?"

"No, Marcus, I have shit to do," you respond.

"One day you won't be such a bitch to me," he replies, before slinging his backpack over one shoulder and shoving his long hair out of his face. "I'm gonna go to his office hours tomorrow and give him a piece of my mind," he says as he walks past you.

"Good luck with that," you joke, staring down at the floor.

You'd been able to wear your favorite boots today, and your legs covered in black tights were a sight for sore eyes. But none of it could be enjoyed, these little beauties of life that usually brought you peace. The potential of failing this stupid class was looming, and now more than ever you were thankful for the weather, for sunny days always made your bad moods even worse, making you feel almost guilty for your negativity.

"Come to my office hours tomorrow, I have to head home now," you hear Professor Jeong tell a clearly panicked classmate, who sighs with defeat and slumps away. You look up, taking in the small room, a class with only thirty desks, dark and windowless, with bookshelves lining the back wall behind a large mahogany table. The few lamps at the front illuminated the tired and frustrated bodies of your peers as they exit to the front corner, and there is no part of you that wants to join that sad parade. There had to be a way out of this, a way to avoid your worst nightmare. There was no way you'd let your hard work of the last two years go to waste, all to be replaced with beratement from your Dad and a forced position in his company.

You'd never been overcome like this, or so determined. Something in the red ink on your perfectly printed paper had switched a flip. Paper in hand, you sling your book bag over your shoulder and storm to the front of the classroom. The last student had just slipped out, and your professor was turning off the lamp high on the right-most bookshelf, his back to you.

"I need to talk to you," you say. The force in your voice shocks you, and you take a deep breath to recover.

"My office hours are tomorrow, you can co-"

"No, I need to talk to you now."

He turns to you, peering over his shoulder before his chest has time to face you too. Instantly his gaze is piercing, a deepness in his brown eyes that you'd never noticed before. His suit is perfect and sharp and intimidating, and your knees feel wobbly as your guts roll. Who were you to be demanding such a thing from him? You had no idea where it had come from, other than the primal fear of a life lived under your Dad's severe control. Your degree was your chance to escape, and you'd stop at nothing to secure your freedom.

"I have to head home now, I can't talk to you." His voice is stern but soft, and feels like a warm breeze blowing past your cheeks and neck. A shudder runs through you, one you try your best to hide.

"Just five minutes, I'll walk with you out of the building," you reply. He lets out a frustrated sigh through his nose, crossing his arms and staring at you deeply. With a subtle shake of his head he straightens up again, grabbing his own bag off his chair and zipping it closed, before slipping it over his head. He pushes in the chair, and moves to the other lamp, looking back to you once more before clicking it off. For a brief moment the room is blanketed in complete darkness, and all you can hear is the soft rustle of trees outside blowing in the wind.

He opens the door, holding it until you exit, and locks it swiftly behind you.

"I was wondering when you'd finally come talk to me," he says, walking the opposite direction you expect, towards the back of the building. His long strides are hard to keep up with, and you balk at what to say now. There was something eery about his words, but something too that told you to keep going. This may just work, if you were willing to push through your nerves.

"My grades on my last two papers were reasonable, I didn't see any reason to come and argue with you about thos-"

"No, what I mean is, you obviously hate my class," he cuts you off.

"I- I don't, sir, I promise-"

"You don't need to lie to save my ego, I can easily tell when a student doesn't like the work I assign for them," he sighs softly.

"I just don't care much for contemporary books, I'm much more interested in historical literature. And literature written by women tends to interest me more, too," you reply. You'd reached the end of the hallway, the back double doors much shabbier than the front, but still adorned with wood carvings and leaf-shaped handles. Professor Jeong pushes the left door open with ease, holding it in silence until you exit again, rejoining you in your decent of the steps.

"Yes, I have heard this complaint a time or two, and I saw this coming from you, I know your type," he replies cooly, walking fast and still making no eye contact.

"I'm not any type of person, I don't know what the hell you're talking about," you snap, covering your mouth seconds later in regret.

"No, please, lay it all out, I am all ears. It's only about two minutes to the train station, so you'd better make use of it."

"You're seriously going to accuse me of being some "type" of student who complains about how all the books we read are by men, when your main critique of my last paper was that the perspective I took was predictable and the same as so many students before, and that I really should look outside of the box and be more creative with my thinking? When you assign the most boring, predictable, inside the box books known to man? What the hell do you expect, me to invent some deeper meaning to this whiny basic crap I'm reading?"

The words tumble out of you with force, another student you passed looking bewildered, ducking their head down and walking into the grass to avoid you. Adrenaline wracks through you, your heart pounding hard enough you could feel it in your head. You weren't sure what you were thinking, launching into such a personal attack of the books he'd assigned. But once he said to lay it all out, your mind couldn't think to do anything else. You try to walk in a straight line beside him, try to keep up with his strides without completely losing your breath. A distant strike of lightning is followed many seconds later by the low rumble of thunder, and your head snaps up in your anxious state, your whole body on high alert. Seconds stretch by, as the air feels suddenly colder and your sweater far too thin. You were waiting for his professional, academic response, knowing almost surely humiliation was about to greet you. But when you finally look up, his lips are turned up in a smirk. Your eyes go wide, wondering if he was laughing, if he found your statement so pathetic and stupid that all it did was make him chuckle.

"You're funny," he deadpans, looking up to the cloudy sky. "And no, I'm not smiling, not at all." His smirk grows wider, almost to a full smile, before he turns from you and steels his face, his expression back to his typical stoicism as his eyes meet yours.

"You think your paper deserves a second look?" he asks, as you cross the bike path and walk through the strip of pine trees, before starting down the stairs to the train station.

"Absolutely, sir, I just want a second chance, maybe I can explain to you further what I meant in certain sections, help you understand- I- I'll rewrite sections if you'd like, anything for a better grade-"

You are cut off by the man in the ticket booth.

"Heading home, Mr. Jeong?" the man calls jovially, waving a large hand in his direction, a pale yellow ticket between his fingers.

"I'll take two today Mr. Choi, thank you," he replies, smoothly walking up to the booth and slipping the man two one-dollar bills.

"Have a nice ride, enjoy your evening!" the man calls as you both walk towards the platform, your boots scuffing on a crack in the stone tiles, eyes too focused on the tall broad back in front of you to notice the ground.

Already a train was approaching, and by the look of your professor, it was obvious this was his. You aren't sure why you're still following; you pull up for a second, eyes wide as you take in the scene around you. The station ss teeming with people, many students and several faces you think you vaguely recognize, but amidst it all his head of black hair ss visible, so much taller than anyone else around. He walks forward a few steps before looking behind him, noticing your absence and squinting hard, trying to find you. The train was now pulling up, and his eyes were flicking between it and the direction he'd lost you, looking the least bit frantic, if that was even possible for him. As soon as the train stops people launch towards the doors, handing the ticket-man their yellow slips and hurriedly finding the seats they want.

When the crowd thins enough and he can see you again, Professor Jeong makes his way to you quickly.

"Whatever you do, don't you dare get on this train car with me," he utters, slipping one of the tickets into your hand and closing it in his. "Don't get off at Fortsmith station, and don't wait for me by the red phone booth outside."

As he walks towards the door his head turns to meet your gaze one last time, and something deep and mischievous glints in his eyes. As he enters the car, ducking low to fit through the small door, you run up behind him, handing the man your ticket too and slipping inside. A moment later the ticket-man jumps in too, sliding closed the door and locking it, sitting in his designated chair.

"How many stops to Fortsmith station?" you ask him, peering over your shoulder at the nearly packed car, only one empty seat next to a man that looked leeringly at you, in a way that made your skin crawl.

"12 stops, ma'am," the man answers, his accent thick.

"How- how many minutes is that, approximately?"

"About 40 minutes, ma'am."

You sigh, stepping out of his way. "Thank you," you add, nodding to him slightly, before turning back around to find a place to stand. When you turn, though, a different seat is empty, one you could swear had been filled by your professor just moments ago.

When you look to the right, you find him sitting by the leering old man and watching you intently. And quickly you slip yourself into that now empty seat, breathing a sigh of relief for your poor heels.

The ride was smoother than you had expected, but the stops were arduous, and each time as people filed on and off, you felt your nerves growing and shaking you. This seemed so strange, that your professor was letting you follow him, giving you the ticket and directions so you wouldn't get lost. Had your little outburst really piqued his interest? Was he only winding you up to shit on you later, in the privacy of his own home, when it was only you two? Suddenly, you realize you know nothing about this man. You aren't even sure if he lives alone, if he has a family, if anything about this little excursion iss a good idea, or if you're walking right into the den of a lion. A deep shudder runs through you when the announcement for 'Fortsmith' comes through the speakers. Only another minute, and you'll be wobbling your way out of here. You'll be in a completely foreign part of the city, not one person knowing where you were.

The station is much smaller, not underground like the University stop, the train only at a full stop for maybe thirty seconds before whisking itself off again. Only one other person steps off with you two; the woman makes quickly for the north exit of the station and disappears into the pouring rain, the cool outside air hitting you and making your body go rigid.

With a quick glance around, you spot the phone booth. It was just to the left of the south exit, visible through the glass panels of the door. As Professor Jeong exits he opens his umbrella, standing patiently by the red booth as you made your way in his direction, your body shaking. Once you exit he begins walking beside you, holding you close under the small radius of his umbrella, his large hand on your back feeling like it was searing right into your skin.

Its a short and quiet walk to the quaint street he lives on, large trees covering the sides of the small boulevard and ivy covering the stone walls of most of the houses. Each was small, only a few with a second floor, including his; it was exactly the type of place you'd expect him to live, the heavy front door creaking as he pulls it open and walks in ahead of you, quickly closing his umbrella and setting it down, and closing the door with a gentle thud once you enter.

A draft hits your wet legs and causes you to shiver again, and you wrap your arms tightly around yourself. Inside it is dim and hazy, and soon he was pulling out a set of matches and lighting a candle on his mantle, the living room coming into view once the warm light started flickering.

"This is my office, wait in here," he says, opening a door just down the hall. When you walk in there is only the soft light of the early evening to guide you, the floor so hard to see that you reach out your hands and shuffle slowly. Once his desk comes into view you spot the ornate lamp just behind it, and carefully reach around to click it on, the room suddenly awash in a gentle pinkness.

Not unlike his classroom, the walls are covered with stacked bookshelves, but in here it was every inch, not a single bit of free space available. You walk slowly to the closest shelf, your eyes scanning over the spines. Shock rips through you as you see the authors: Dickinson, Austen, Bronte, so many of the historical women you adore. Above that shelf is a collection of more contemporary works: Cline, Hooks, Mock, your eyes just about bug out at seeing the names, breath hitching. Here was a stunning collection of so many of your favorite authors, an entire giant bookcase dedicated to the work of women, and women alone.

"You found my favorite shelf, I see." His voice is low and buttery and doesn't shock you, only makes you feel like melting into the floor. But you can't help turning suddenly and clinging to yourself, the room still feeling chilly. "You aren't in trouble, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Why did you bring me here?" you shoot back, taking in a quick breath.

"Why did you come when I told you not to?" he replies, walking close and handing you a cup of steaming tea, the notes of lavender and honey hitting your nose.

"You- you obviously wanted me to come, you told me exactly where to get off-"

You cut yourself off at the sight of him smirking again, and shake your head, the shock of the situation finally hitting you.

"I shouldn't be here, should I?" you suddenly panic, shoving the tea back in his direction, making for your bag on the floor. But as you crouch and grab it your hands feel like stone, not willing to move an inch. You don't want to leave, not at all, as much as some part of you is telling you to stop this and head back to campus, now. You stand back up quickly, feeling awkward as you smooth down the bottom of your oversized sweater, turning to him again.

"Is this wrong?" he asks, gesturing between you with the mug of tea.

"I- I don't know," you sigh.

"I made you tea because you looked cold, are you sure you don't want it?"

You stare longingly at it, his hand easily wrapping around the entire thing. With a hard swallow you push yourself to take a step, grabbing the tea from him and finally taking a sip, your chest instantly feeling warmer.

"Why did you let me follow you?" you ask, turning around and sitting yourself on the smooth top of his desk , crossing your legs. His legs cross too as he leans back against the shelf behind him, a longer piece of his black hair falling in front of his eyes.

"I've been hoping to get a chance to chat with you, ever since I read your first paper."

"So even though you could tell I hated your readings, even though I'm that type of student you seem to have such great distaste for, you still wanted to talk with me?" you ask.

"I kept hoping you'd come to office hours, but you never did," he sighs. "You might hate my class, but you're obviously passionate about literature. You'd be surprised how rare that is, amongst all my English students."

"You've only had a few like me, then?" you ask.

"I've never had any student like you."

Silence hangs in the air, and you sip at your tea to fill it, savoring the way your body is relaxing. You stare at him, trying to read it all. Why the hell would he say something like that to you? Alone in his house, no indication of another soul residing here, you feel oddly comfortable. It had never crossed your mind that you could possibly end up in a situation like this.

"You're determined to get at least a C, aren't you?" he asks.

"I have to," you reply. "I can't- I just have to."

"For your scholarship?"

"No- well, sort of, in a way," you sigh, thinking of your Dad. "It's a long story, but I have to."

"Let me give you some advice then. Just because you don't much care for an assignment, don't throw in the towel and do the bare minimum. Your other work is too good, it makes it obvious when you've barely spent any time on something."

You stop short, tea clasped tightly in your hands, your eyes wide.

"Do you write, any fiction or poetry?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Good, you have an immense talent for writing, you must nurture it."

It was the last thing you were expecting, and the words send shivers of warmth through your limbs, your mouth hanging slightly agape.

"God, do you have any idea how remarkable you are?" he asks, his head suddenly shaking, his arms crossing.

"What do you mean?" You try to keep your composure, but his last words feel like a metaphorical breaking of a boundary, and suddenly your cunt aches and your feet feel tingly. Were you really that easy to break? Liking praise this much was something you'd always felt shame about; your cheeks redden as your heart rate slowly picks up, and you are sure your flush is obvious, even in the faintly pink light of the room.

"You're just- you're remarkable, there's no other way to put it. Like I said, I've never had a student like you," he says.

"Then why torture me with such a bad grade?" you ask, taking another sip.

"I'm not torturing you, it was deserved," he replies. "You wrote that whole paper the night before it was due, didn't you?"

You turn your eyes away in lieu of responding, not wanting to admit that he was absolutely right.

"I know everyone says I'm a harsh grader, but what about next year? You'll have two semesters with either Haas or Park, and both of them are stricter than I am, both expect near perfection. I'm preparing you as best as I can for next year, so your whole degree doesn't blow up in your face at the final hurdle."

"You really care that much?" you fake pout, chuckling a bit and biting your lip.

"Yes, yes I do. You're too smart to not make it out of that University with a degree." His voice is genuine, not an ounce of sarcasm present. Something about how sure and even it is adds to the heat in your low guts, and you squirm slightly, trying to relieve the pressure building between your legs.

"Come here," you say, setting down your mug and holding out your hands in front of you.

"What?" he asks as he pushes off the bookshelf, uncrossing his arms as he starts walking. In only three steps he's just inches away, towering over you as you spread your legs slightly. You're hit with his smell, something musky and rich that you can't name, and all it does is add to the heat inside you, sweat beginning to form underneath your sweater.

"Will you read my stories and poems, if I show them to you?" you ask, tugging on the lapels of his suit jacket, your eyes locked together.

"I won't hold back in my reactions," he says, sighing deeply to try and keep the growing firmness in his pants at bay. Being this close to you was not something he'd planned for, and his head spins as your soft eyes look up so longingly, his own guts doing somersaults at the precious sight.

"I wouldn't want you to," you say, smiling, unbuttoning his jacket and exposing his white button down, making work of the buttons there too, from top to bottom.

"Hey, hey, wait a minute," he chides from above, but he doesn't move an inch, doesn't do a thing to prevent your movements. You notice quickly he isn't wearing an under shirt, met with the creaminess of his skin as you expose his chest, working slowly down to the lowest buttons. You pull his shirt free from where it was tucked in his pants, loosening his belt to help you, before pulling the sides of the shirt wide and finally revealing his naked torso.

Now you understood. He was a nightmare, but in all the ways you least expected. He was better than your dreams, hotter than you could imagine; the flat plane of his chest was broad, and his tummy was the perfect mixture of muscle and softness, a small dark line of hair snaking down from his belly button and into his pants. And his pants, when you finally look down, you see it; his bulge is straining against the fabric, long and hard and thick, and immediately you start salivating, running your tongue along your bottom lip to collect yourself.

"Good god," he groans from above, his pupils blown, losing the fight to not be affected by you. Your small, soft hands running over his torso feel heaven-sent, and in seconds he's rock hard, shamelessly staring down the low cut of your sweater, letting himself look at you the way he's been wanting to for months.

"This- this is what you want?" he asks, breathless, running a thumb down the side of your cheek, turning your head up further to meet his gaze head-on.

"You- you just kept saying such nice things, and it made me feel all weird right here." You grab his hand and pull it towards your crotch, the warmth and wetness immediately evident even with your tights in the way.

"Fuck," he groans, tipping his head back and sighing. Though he knew it was already risky bringing you here, lines were now being crossed that were objectively wrong. He tries to pull his hand away from your core, but he can't, and when he looks down at you again, your eyes are wide with want and need, conflict screwing all of his thoughts into a tight knot.

But before he can stop himself, his open lips meet yours. The kiss is immediately deep, all the tension and heat you'd just created washing through you both. He starts applying some pressure with his hand, rubbing his fingers up and down against the warmth of your cunt, and you moan into his mouth, suddenly breaking the kiss when he hits your sensitive spot, your mouth falling open. With no support behind you, you grab onto his arms, pulling him closer as you move to kiss him again, his right hand wrapping around your back to hold you up.

His lips are soft and sweet in yours, and you can't help biting at the plumpness of his lower lip, making a quick breath escape his mouth before he dives in harder, the hand on your back moving up to your nape as he pulls your face impossibly closer. You reach your hands out to feel over the bareness of his torso again; his skin feels hot and smooth, his abdominal muscles clenching as he leans into you more and takes all the effort of steadying you both. Balanced on the edge of his desk you feel shaky, so you reach around his hips and pull them closer, forcing him to remove his hand as your cores meet in sudden ecstasy, the hardness of him feeling all too delicious against your soaked cunt.

Immediately you're grinding against him, savoring every bit of pleasure you can get, while his wide torso cages you in and his soft lips move to your cheek, then your neck, trailing down until he's biting at the soft skin above your collar bone. The choked moan that leaves you sounds almost like a cry of pain, but it was really just the shock, the unexpected pleasure you were getting from every little movement of his.

He pulls his mouth away, suddenly nervous he's taken a wrong step, gone too far. His hair falls in his face as he watches you shamelessly grind against him, your eyes still screwed shut in ecstasy, stopping at nothing to get all of the pleasure you can from it. It takes you a few moments to register the absence of his lips, and when you do you look up at him through hooded eyes, wondering why he pulled back.

"What do you want?" he asks, working hard to rip his eyes away from the sight of you grinding on him.

"Just wanna be good for you," you say breathlessly, swallowing a moan. "Wanna- wanna make you feel good."

"You are making me feel good, angel, I'm so fucking hard," he sighs, looking down again and starting to rock his hips slightly, in time with yours. The added pressure and friction send jolts of pleasure through you, and suddenly your head feels a bit fuzzy, your hands and feet tingling with delight. "You gotta tell me to stop, I can't- this, fuck, we shouldn't be..."

"Please don't stop," you cry, holding onto him for dear life, focused entirely on the feeling of him against you, his strong arms in your hands, his hot breath on your face, his hardness giving you more pleasure than you could ever dream of. "I'll rewrite my entire paper, I'll do anything, just please, don't stop."

"You don't have to promise me that right now," he says, holding you tight against him. "You're too good, let yourself have this."

With his permission, you let go completely, all thoughts leaving you as the pleasure becomes overwhelming, your spasming cunt sending shockwaves of pleasure up through your entire core. His lips are on yours again, and he kisses you deeply, savoring every taste he can find, all but devouring you as he keeps up with your pace, rocking his straining cock against you just how you need it. You feel fully enveloped by him, by his smell and his words, by the feelings of complete safety and desire that he's lighted within you. You never expected this conversation with him to go so well, to head in this direction. For the first time in your life a teacher saw what you hoped they would in your writing, and his admission of his admiration for you left you wanting every bit of praise and pleasure he could give.

Finally, you feel it building deep, a volcano about to explode, your core tightening and threatening to snap. The feeling is searingly hot and delicious, your legs starting to shake, his hands moving to hold onto your thighs as you desperately shake and hump against him, chasing your orgasm to completion. You rip your mouth from his to scream, all the glee and nerves of your evening coming to a head, your body going rigid as it rips through you, your climax so intense and long lasting that you can't quite believe it's real.

"Good girl, let yourself cum," he whispers in your ear, helping you through it. His cock is achingly hard in his pants, but the feeling of you coming in his arms takes all his attention, the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. It's hard to tell when it ends, your legs still so shaky, but eventually your rubbing ceases, and he stops his thrusting too, just holding you in place as you pant and center yourself, adrenaline and happiness coursing through you.

"You okay?" he asks.

"More than okay," you sigh, slumping into him, making you both laugh. It's light, airy, the sound an absolute joy to your ears. You look up, face flushed and cheeks high in a smile, and he leans down to kiss you, a soft and patient kiss that makes butterflies dance in your stomach.

"I didn't mean for that to escalate like that," he says, sighing.

"I did," you say, and it makes him laugh harder, his high cheeks and beautiful smile greeting you. You've never seen him look so sweet, so happy; your stomach suddenly clenches with a feeling of utter admiration, and it's so deep that tears spring in the corners of your eyes. You blink them away, not wanting to cry in front of him, but you can't help the look on your face. His smile is gorgeous, and internally you're melting at just how perfect he is.

You stay locked together for a long time, the minutes passing by as you both breath deeply, more kisses planted on your forehead and cheeks that make you giggle and squirm. Eventually you come down, your legs finally not shaking, your body coming back to the temperature of the room. The cool air is making you sleepy, and you yawn as you pull away from him, gently moving him back so you can stand and stretch your legs, gathering yourself.

It's silent, slightly awkward, but nothing in you feels scared. Though your legs are back to freezing, you feel a warmth in your chest and stomach that won't leave, and when you look up to him, his face is soft and still and utterly lovely.

"I really didn't mean for that to happen," he says, clearing his throat and finally breaking the silence.

"It's okay, seriously, I- I wanted it to," you sigh, holding his gaze.

"I really think you're amazing, it's not just that you're beautiful, I- I want you to go places, I want all of your dreams to come true. With writing, and everything else too," he says, running a hand through his hair.

"I know," you respond, nodding and smiling. "I know."

It's all you can think to say, when so much is running through your head. Now that your heart rate is more normal you can actually think straight, and though you don't feel scared, there is some level of uncertainty dancing in the back of your mind. Where would this lead? And what could possibly come of it? Your own hormones and emotions had led the way earlier, and now you weren't so sure it had been the best choice. But you also couldn't fault yourself for doing it, because you knew that if given the chance, you'd absolutely do it again, as many times as he'd be willing to. Class now might be a nightmare, your active imagination supported by this memory. But that didn't sound all bad, either, frankly. It might be fun to make eyes at him and watch him stutter, to see just how much you could affect him in front of all your peers.

"Are you wanting to head home now?" he asked.

"I probably should, I have a lot of homework to do. And I need to get some dinner."

Twenty minutes later, the delivery arrives, and you sit in his living room sipping at your favorite soup, a casual conversation about your other classes filling the air. It had always bugged you when people asked about school, but for some reason with him, you felt giddy to brag, excited to share every grade and project you could. You felt seen, felt actually supported. It struck you over and over how strange it was to be feeling this way with him, of all people.

"Rewrite that paper, you have a week," he says as you stand in his open door, the streets and lawn drenched from the rain, but the sky now clear.

"Rewrite the whole thing?"

"I expect it to be up to the standard of your other two papers."

With all of the other work you had, it should have been frustratingly hard to finish it. But there was something about thinking of his face as you worked, of his hands, of his chest and his abs and his cock....

You finished the paper in record time, turning it in only four days later. And the next day in class it was lying on your desk when you entered, bright red marks along the front again.

91%.

You looked up at him, and though it was subtle, there was no question there was a glint in his eye as he winked.

next part ->

[akutasoda]

the fans are always right. right?

synopsis - mr reca seemed a bit more downbeat then your used too, maybe some rather interesting reviews would cheer him up

includes - reca

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight crack, wc - 1.6k

a/n: i uhh had an idea... lost it and tried to salvage what i remembered and this was the result- anyway all the reviews used were given to me by some lovely people ( @tragedy-of-commons, @singularity-sam, @vxnuslogy, @mikashisus, @/milksnake-tea, @/tetrachrxmacy and @theother-victoria) try and guess who's who :))

a huffed sigh escaped you, slouching down in your chair as the clock ticked rhythmically in the background. mr reca was supposed to meet you around fifteen minutes ago. he'd never been late before.

a reasonable explanation would be that he had something more important to tend to. and that would be understandable. but for now you were bored out of mind and leaving wasn't an option as reca could show up at any time - he probably wouldn't be as forgiving if you were to show up after him.

today you two were meant to develop a new script and start on the storyboard for his latest idea. in honesty, you're still not quite sure how you landed this job. you wanted to start getting into directing films of your own but couldn't quite place how to start and so you settled for finding a job as a co-director.

after helping co-direct a few pieces here and there, you got a message from the esteemed mr reca. you had to do a couple (maybe even hundreds…) of checks to make sure you weren't actually dreaming. mr reca didn't exactly strike you as the kind of person to need or even want a co-director.

and yet here you were. apparently he enjoyed the sense of style you breathed into the films you helped direct and thought it would pair nicely with a couple of his. even to this day you find it hard to believe that you still had this job.

but you put your all into it. a lot of trust and expectation was placed upon you and you would be sure to not let him down. even if that meant waiting for him to show up for your appointed meetings.

twenty minutes.

you looked around the room for anything to pass the time, all you could think of was your phone laid idly on the desk. then an idea crossed your mind. reca had recently released a film. perhaps you could read some reviews to pass the time.

you never really expected yourself to be mentioned in any of them. yes you got credits and the recognition for being reca's personally selected co-director but most people still only talked about him in their reviews, which wasn't exactly a problem.

it didn't take long to find a rather reputable review page and so you began scrolling.

you should've expected the first one being a five star review

@bebe_fanpage101 : ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

- "This film has changed my life. My whole outlook on everything that exists in this world, in fact even in the entire universe. I can never look at anything I know the same way ever again. This film represents emotions most humans could never comprehend. But I can. Thanks to this film I have been awakened to many things previously thought unimaginable. Thank you."

a rather extreme opinion in your eyes, reca did have some “over-the-top” fans. your became intrigued after stumbling across a one star review soon after

@frankenweeniehater4life : ⭐

- "what ?"

[review has been deleted]

maybe it wasn't an actual review, but you stifle a laugh at the next review being from the same person

⭐

- "wrong movie how do i delete a review" (Edited)

perhaps this could definitely entertain you until reca arrived. you idly scrolled through the reviews, only stopping when some peaked your interest or made you smile

@seas_ablaze : ⭐⭐⭐

- "A film that does a lot of monkey business and goes bananas with it."

or alternatively,

@frankenweeniehater4life : ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

- "i've seen about a million movies and dear god this has to be one of the worst. an absolute slog to get through. the pacing was awful, everything took years to happen. the soundtrack was grating. the actors either put no effort in or way too much- either put them back on the street or send them back to the musical theater. the cinematography was dull at best and straight up nauseating at worst- i had to pause multiple times so i didn't get physically ill. and don't get me STARTED on the stilted script and dull characterization. and the dog isn't even a weenie."

you reckon they might have gotten the wrong film again… but it definitely explained the username-

and at that moment reca finally showed up, he pushed open the doors grumbling something - obviously whatever kept him busy wasn't pleasant. he had walked in with a huff and his expression didn't exactly read that of happiness.

you brushed it off and greeted him like you usually would, something that was greeted with another grumble which you could only guess was a hello of sorts towards you.

watching, you noted how he slumped into the chair on the other side of the desk and it became clear that he wasn't in the mood to get any work done. the silence was starting to get uncomfortable and so you slid your phone over to him, reviews still open.

reca perked one eyebrow up and questioned you “what's this about? we have duties to complete not waste time”

you hummed in response before sliding your phone closer until he picked it up “it's reviews from your latest film, it's not like we'll be getting things done soon and maybe they could help guide our planning” a small pause “they're quite entertaining”

he scrolled for a bit before stopping on one and reading it out loud

@/blink!vxnus! : ⭐⭐⭐⭐

- "film was great and very informative. it made the story far more interesting compared to other documentaries tackling the same story. - 1 because mr reca wasn't in the actual film"

“it's not very helpful, just compliments” he sighed “and wishful fans being normal”

you smiled in response before reaching over as he turned the phone to you and scrolling back up again “this one's a personal favorite, especially the comments”

@/bebe_fanpage101 : ⭐⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

- "came for the reca shirtless scene, stayed for the storytelling. no regrets stan robin"

- @/ultimate_recakisser : "I mean I’d be the same as well I MEAN WHAT WHO SAID THAT Speakingofshirtlessrecaifoujdthisonefanartdoesanyonewantmetosendit?"

- @/bebe_fanpage101 : "me. dms. shhh."

- @/iwishsundaywasmywife : "id judge u both. but. im the same way abt bird man so i cant"

reca stared at the review, then the comments, before his face began morphing into something akin to the middle point of shock and disgust.

he sighed “there wasn't even a shirtless scene, these people are… enthusiastic, to be nice”

you hummed in response before suggesting that the lower rated reviews may help more and scrolled until you found some.

@/iwishsundaywasmywife : ⭐

- "Great movie. Plot flows well, characters are charismatic and overall a wonderful viewing experience. Just hate the director."

@/abardslyre : ⭐

- "my gf broke up with me for the director. mr reca count ur ******* days."

you had to hold back laughter at the sight of his face distorting into confusion and a slight grimace making the corner of his lips scowl

@/seas_ablaze : ⭐

- "This is awful, pretentious garbage. In all objective fact, he's an auteur wannabe who makes idiotic movies for the normie audiences who are too stupid to think for themselves. I didn't even watch more than five minutes of it, I just know it's bad from his name attached to it. I never made a movie before or have ever taken a film class, but even I could do better than this disgrace of an art form that only a few can ever hope to master. Hell, I would personally kill all subpar directors myself if I could, I'm just that smart. As Lord Scorsese says: Cinema is dead!"

mr reca sighed, deeply, “i can't decide if this helped or not, but im leaning no at the minute”

you definitely could say you enjoyed scrolling through the reviews more, but it wasn't hard to notice how his demeanor changed. how he wasn't so grumpy and you could've sworn that at one point you'd seen a smile on his face. your idea worked.

eventually you two managed to start discussing ideas - which was more him talking your ear off with his ideas and you listening and writing down anything he told you to. and then he paused.

before you even had the chance to question if anything was the matter, reca surprised you “maybe those reviews could help for the next film”

“what do you mean?” you couldn't believe what you were hearing, your spur of the moment idea to show him reviews to hopefully boost his mood so you could both actually talk about his next film properly worked. it actually gave him ideas.

reca prattled on about how some of the reviews gave him the idea for how to expand his latest idea that had hit a wall and now he could continue to elaborate the idea. it was sort of satisfying to see how passionate he had become despite his earlier attitude.

he then abruptly stopped before trailing off “maybe i should listen to some of those reviews and change genres”

you thought that was a rather drastic suggestion, arguing that his current genres worked perfectly fine and it was his speciality, his signature if you would. but then he started mumbling again

“maybe if we went that route… then you could…” he was trailing off, you could barely piece together his coherent sentence but you could pick up on “based on us”

“what? could you repeat that again mr reca?”

“what?”

mr reca was never easy to work with.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn, @https-sourlimes

[440mxs-wife]

After All This Time

Pairing: Dean x F!Reader. Other characters: Sam, Jody, Charlie, Benny (not a vampire), OFC Paulina Foster. Mentioned: Donna, Eileen, OMC "Shadow" (friend of Paulina), Reader's ex and her boss.

Word Count: 13,753 (I know, it's a whopper)

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, Fake Dating, Best Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Mean Girl, a little light cursing

Summary: Reader moves into the apartment across the hall from Dean. They meet under less than ideal circumstances, but become best friends, which evolves into "more than friends" territory. A new resident, Paulina Foster, moves in a couple of doors down from Dean, and he's determined to ask her out. Only, she doesn't want anything to do with him. One night while out drinking, the Reader casually mentions that Dean needs a fake girlfriend to catch Paulina's attention. He seizes on the idea, and asks the Reader to be that for him. Unable to turn him down, she agrees, only it works a little too well. Will the Reader ever get the chance to declare her feelings, or will she have to let him go?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Are you sure she said she'd be here this time?"

"Yeah," Dean replied. When all you answered him with was a raised eyebrow, he hung his head and sighed in defeat. "Okay, well, maybe I overheard her say to her friends that she might be here tonight. I didn't hear if they specified an arrival time," he admitted.

For the last six weeks, you've had to hear about this "perfect" woman, Paulina Foster, who recently moved in two doors down from Dean's apartment. For the last six weeks, he's told you about nearly every conversation, however brief, he's had with her in the hall. For the last six weeks, he's been upset that she's ignored him or turned him down every time he's asked her out on a date. And because of her, for the last six weeks, you've suppressed the urge to tell Dean how you feel about him.

Dean has been your best friend since you moved to town five years ago from New York City. You had broken up with your boyfriend after finding out that he cheated on you with another woman. To add insult to injury, the "other woman" was your direct supervisor, and she wasn't shy about holding it over your head. She reminded you at every opportunity that you weren't enough for him, but that she was, and thus was able to steal him away from you.

Because working for her was no longer an option, and a transfer to another department wasn't available, you gave your notice. Well, sort of. Before leaving for lunch, you discreetly packed your few personal items in your messenger bag. Then you dropped off your badge at the security desk, waved goodbye to the guard on your way out, and never looked back.

A week later, you moved into Dean's apartment building, across the hall from his place, in a spacious 2-bedroom unit. The second bedroom doubled as a guest room and your office, since you now worked remotely as a freelance writer. Your file was assigned to Charlie Bradbury, who was your point of contact for your employer. She functioned as a sort of "handler," to whom you uploaded your work for approval and publication. As a nice bonus, she became your other best friend along the way.

The first time you met Dean was on a Friday night, about three weeks after you'd moved in, on a day in which nothing went right for you. First, you woke up late for an important meeting, with no time to shower, so you had to slog through it looking less than ideal on camera. Then there were no coffee grounds in the canister. Later, you grabbed a quick bite for lunch, then used the rest of your break to shower and feel human again. When you got re-dressed, you noticed a hole in your favorite pair of socks.

As you returned to working through your daily assignments, more trouble revealed itself. Your internet connection began having intermittent outages due to "scheduled network maintenance," or so the provider told you. Quitting time couldn't come soon enough, except the more you wanted the day over, the more it seemed to pass at negative turtle speed. Once it was over, all you wanted to do was pour yourself a glass of wine, pull on your favorite hoodie, and curl up with a good book.

Unfortunately, none of those things was in the cards for you that night. Loud music and laughter from the apartment next door were the straws that broke the camel's back. You decided to emphatically express your displeasure to your inconsiderate neighbor. Depending on how that went, you were aware it could mean total avoidance of all future contact with said tenant.

You threw open the window in your spare bedroom that led out to the fire escape, the one you so happened to share with Dean's apartment. In your haste to chastise your partying neighbor, you misjudged the opening to your window and smacked your forehead on the frame. Hard.

Cursing and holding your head from the impact, you took several deep breaths to try and ease the pain that was beginning to make itself known. More slowly this time, you poked your head out the window and glanced to your right, where you could see a few people laughing, drinking, and talking together.

One of them turned in your direction, and with a friendly smile, raised his cup filled with his chosen beverage in a salute to you. "Ah, bonsoir, chérie! We're having a little party over here to celebrate the start of the weekend! If you want, it's not too late to come on over and join us, 'cuz we're just getting started," the man proclaimed, his smile growing wider.

You winced at his boisterous greeting and the continued loud music, which was doing nothing to ease the escalating agony in your head. "No, I think--ow," you gasped. "I think I'll--'celebrate' from over here, thank you," you gritted out. "But, if you could please keep the noise down--"

"Wait, hold on there a minute, chérie. Are you okay? What happened?" the man asked.

"I'm fine, just hit my head," you replied wearily. "Look, it's been a really rotten day for me, and I would love some peace and quiet. So, again, if you could--"

The man poked his head back into the apartment and yelled, "Hey, Dean!" A few seconds later, another man appeared. The one he called "Dean" had spiky, sandy blond hair, and broad shoulders, which were covered in red and black flannel, from what you could see of his body.

"Whatsamatter, Benny, you need another drink already or something?" Dean joked. Benny leaned over to whisper in Dean's ear, and you wondered what they could possibly be talking about. You didn't have to wait long, because Dean's smile dropped and his eyes shifted in your direction, with what looked like concern on his features.

You could feel your head pounding with the beat of the music, and it was eating away at your ability to be polite about the noise. "LISTEN!" you shouted then immediately regretted it as you winced and felt a wave of dizziness crash over you. In a fraction of a second, Dean was scrambling out of his window and had crossed the fire escape over to your apartment.

"Hey, whoa, take it easy, sweetheart," he soothed. "I'm Dean Winchester, your next door neighbor. What's your name?"

With your head still throbbing, you managed to give him your name and watched as a soft smile spread over his handsome features. Your gaze was then drawn to his vibrant green eyes that reminded you of soft spring grass. His eyebrows were drawn together in concern, and for some reason, you had the urge to smooth out that crease in his forehead with your fingertips.

Before you could act on this impulse, Dean had already climbed through your window. Between himself and Benny, they were doing their best to guide you through your apartment. "There we go, sweetheart. Let's get you into the living room, to your nice, comfy couch, then we can take a look at that noggin of yours," Dean suggested.

You mumbled what sounded like "okay", which the men took as sufficient agreement to continue to the living room. Once you were seated on the couch, Benny headed for the kitchen to look for something to use as an ice pack. He found a package of frozen peas and wrapped it in a tea towel, which was hanging from your oven door handle. "Here you are, chérie," he remarked gently as he held out the makeshift ice pack to you.

"Thank you, Benny," you replied as you held it to your head. Eventually, he returned to the party next door, while Dean stayed with you. He must've said something to his friend before he left, because the volume on the music next door seemed to have decreased. You tried to tell Dean you were fine, that he should go back to his place as the host of his party. But he would have none of it, as he was determined to first make sure you were okay.

Over the course of the evening, you and Dean asked questions back and forth. You thought he was just trying to keep you conscious and alert in case of a concussion. In reality, he was using the incident as an opportunity to get better acquainted with his pretty new neighbor. The noise next door gradually dwindled down to soft music. On his way out, Benny poked his head back into your window to bid you both goodnight.

After that night, a friendship started to develop between you and Dean. It started simply enough, chatting about the weather while picking up your mail each day. As weeks went by, your time together expanded into meeting for coffee on Saturday mornings. The shop around the corner from your apartment building had the best pastries for you and pie for Dean.

While friendship was the easy part, your feelings at some point had shifted into the "something more complicated" category. His casual touches to your arm or the small of your back in a crowd, or calling you "sweetheart" only sped up your heart rate. However, he never gave you any indication that he thought of you as anything more than a best friend. So, you did your best to ignore the butterflies in your stomach that appeared anytime you were with him and locked away your feelings.

Charlie knew of the situation between you and Dean, though she only knew what you told her. She'd tried several times to get you to move to Chicago, saying the two of you would have so much fun working together. Part of her argument was that if Dean hadn't made a move by now, he probably wouldn't, and that you might want to think about moving on from him. Off and on, you had given moving some thought, but hadn't taken any action yet.

That was until one Friday night, when you were out with Dean at the bar, as usual. He went up to refill your drinks, but it was taking longer for him to return. You scanned the room for him and noticed he was talking with some brunette while he waited. It looked like there was quite a bit of flirting going on between them. The next thing you knew, he had taken off with the brunette and left you behind without a single word.

Since Dean drove that night, you ended up taking a cab home, which made you angry because he'd left you behind. In fact, you were so upset with him that you looked up some real estate listings in the Chicago area. But then Dean called the following morning to explain. There was still some residual anger, which you expressed to him. Then he apologized and, just like that, the thought of leaving passed. However, nothing could've prepared you for how this night was going to end.

***

"There she is!" he whispered excitedly. His eyes followed the movements of a gorgeous woman in a glittery black bodycon dress, her blonde tresses cascading in waves down her back. The four women trailing behind her were no doubt her friends, as they were similarly dressed. You deduced that they must be the women Dean saw in the hallway as they chatted about tonight's plans.

When you took stock of your own appearance, you felt a bit underdressed compared to the newest arrivals. You were wearing black jeans, a red T-shirt with a small pink sequined heart on the front, black booties and a black cropped denim jacket. The outfit was comfortable, and you felt confident when you wore it. Up until now, that is.

"Did I tell you she smiled at me the other day?" Dean asked. "I'm making progress," he declared proudly.

"Yes, Dean, you did tell me that," you sighed. "You know, it's almost like you're some lovesick puppy, the way you act around her. You shouldn't make it so easy for her. Some women prefer the thrill of doing the chasing, to go after something that belongs to someone else and take it away."

"What?? Paulina wouldn't do that, she's not like that," he retorted.

"I'm not saying she is," you hastily added. But I'm not saying she isn't like that, either, you thought to yourself. "I mean, how else do you explain the many women who don't think twice about going after married men?"

"I s'pose that's true," he conceded.

You took a sip of your drink and chuckled to yourself. Dean heard your laugh and wanted to know what you thought was so funny. You tried to wave him off, saying it was nothing, but he was persistent. "I was just thinking....never mind. It's a stupid idea." When he still wouldn't let it drop, you sighed deeply before responding. "What you really need is someone to pretend to be your girlfriend. Once Paulina sees you're 'taken', she may change her mind and give you a chance."

"Wow," Dean whispered.

"I know, it was a dumb idea, which is why--" you didn't get to finish your thought because he interrupted.

"No, that's IT!! All I need is for you to pretend to be my girlfriend. If your theory is correct--and I'm not saying that it is--then once Paulina sees we're together, she'll say 'yes' to a date with me," he grinned.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, bub, I never volunteered to pretend to be your girlfriend," you countered. "And I said 'somebody', I didn't mean 'me'. Besides, if you go through with this, there's a real possibility that someone could get hurt," you reminded him. 99% chance it'll be me.

"I can't ask any of my exes, for obvious reasons. And as my best friend, you know me almost as well as my own brother does. Therefore, it'll be convincing," he pointed out.

"Dean......"

He turned to face you fully and locked eyes with you, then he took your hands in his. "I know this is a lot to ask of you, but I have a feeling about this girl. I just need to get my foot in the door with her. Will you help me do that by pretending to be my girlfriend?"

His eyes pleaded with you to agree to participate in this hair-brained scheme. If your theory was correct, then the arrangement may only last for a matter of weeks. Long enough to get the point across and create an opportunity for Dean. Also short enough that you can hopefully break it off without getting any more attached to the man who holds your heart. This has disaster written all over it, you silently mused. On the other hand, as long as he's happy, then.... "Okay, Dean."

***

"You did what?!?" Charlie nearly screeched into the phone. "Are you out of your mind?!?"

As soon as you got home, you called your other best friend for reassurance. Instead, she blatantly questioned your decision making skills. "It's only until this 'Paulina' sees us together and is convinced that we're a couple, then I'm sure she'll make her move," you muttered. "Which may not be too long, because I think it's already starting to work."

"What makes you say that?"

>>Flashback<<

After you agreed to be Dean's fake girlfriend, he whooped in excitement, then threw his arms around to hug you. He picked you up and twirled you around a couple of times before setting your feet back on the ground. As you looked around to see if anyone was disturbed by your outburst, your eyes landed on Paulina, whose attention suddenly shifted to you and Dean. Well, mostly Dean, but that was the whole point, wasn't it?

"All right, all right, calm down, Dean," you laughed, the butterflies flapping in full force.

"I'm sorry, just happy you decided to help me with this. Hey, I think there's an open pool table, wanna shoot some 8-ball?" he asked eagerly.

"Sure, why don't you grab the table and set it up, while I get us some fresh drinks," you offered.

"Okay," he chirped. Before he left, he leaned in and gave you a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek, then winked. You watched as he practically skipped on his way to the pool tables, while you stared after him, dumbfounded, your lips parted in surprise. The clanking of glass beer bottles behind the bar broke you out of your trance, leaving you smiling fondly at him while shaking your head.

Sighing deeply before picking up your empty drinks, you headed to the bar to order refills. You placed your order and paid the tab, then leaned your back against the counter and rested on your elbows.

While you waited, you watched as Dean finished the setup for the first game of 8-ball. On your way back from the bar, though, your heart sunk when you saw Paulina standing next to him. She was laughing and occasionally laying her hand on his arm. A deep calming breath later and with your mask in place, you closed the distance, placing your drinks on the nearest table. You stepped closer to Dean, slipping your arm around his waist and placing your hand on his chest. "Hey, babe, sorry the drinks took so long," you remarked, then pretended you didn't see Paulina until that moment. "Oh! Who's this?"

"Um, hey, sweetheart, th-this is Paulina. She's new to our building, lives two doors down from me. Paulina, this is m-my....," he trailed off at a complete loss for words.

"I'm his girlfriend," you supplied, along with your name. "You'll have to forgive him, Patricia, he's been stuck under the hood of a car, around wrenches and power tools all week," you giggled then turned to face Dean. "Should we start our game? You can break if you want to, honey."

He stammered out a reply in the affirmative, which Paulina took as her cue to leave. You watched as she gave one last appreciative glance at the way his jeans clung to his bowed legs and perfect backside. The way she checked him out made your blood boil. However, you had to remind yourself that this wasn't real. He wasn't yours, probably never would be, and he can do whatever or whomever he wants.

>>End of Flashback<<

"Seriously? He forgot your name?" Charlie asked.

"Like I told her, it was a long week for him," you defended.

Charlie rolled her eyes and snorted. "You've been best friends for five years now. The supposed 'object of his desire' finally talks to him, and suddenly he forgets your name? I'm sorry, sweetie, but this whole arrangement has disaster written all over it."

"Jeez, Char, tell me how you really feel," you grumbled. "And of course it does. How I let him talk me into doing this is beyond me. At the end of it all, someone's heart is gonna get broke, and I'm 99.9% sure it will be mine."

"Then why do it? Tell him you're backing out because you've changed your mind. Or, you could confess how you feel about him."

"I can't back out, Charlie. You know how I've been in love with Dean for a long time," you admitted softly. "And if I tell him that, I'm afraid it'll ruin everything. I don't think I can take the rejection when he doesn't see me that way. Nope, this is how it has to be, and it'll have to be enough. All I want is for him to be happy, even if it's not with me."

You talked for a little while longer before saying your goodbyes and promising to talk more later. After you went through your nightly routine, you climbed into bed and reached for the book you were currently reading. For some reason, though, the words on the page seemed to swim in front of your eyes and you couldn't focus. You knew why, of course. As if he sensed you were thinking about him, your phone pinged on your nightstand with a text message.

Dean: hey, in case I forgot to tell you, thank you for doing this. you truly are my best friend.

You: you're welcome. goodnight, Dean.

After you pressed "send", you switched on the "do not disturb" setting and returned your phone to your nightstand. Since it was obvious that you wouldn't get any reading done, you marked your place, closed your book, and slid it into the drawer. You turned off the light, plunging your room into near-total darkness, except for the bits of moonlight streaming through the slats of your blinds. As the minutes ticked by, your eyelids began to get heavy, until they finally closed for a much-needed but not necessarily restful sleep.

***

Dean stared at your last text message, wondering what you meant with such a short reply. He considered the night to have been a success. He finally got to talk to Paulina aside from the small talk that occurred briefly in the hallway. Though he was puzzled when you called her "Patricia" after he'd been telling you all along that her name was "Paulina". Wait....could you be....jealous? He dismissed the thought, telling himself that you don't think of him that way.

It isn't as though his mind hadn't wandered down this path many times before, of having something more with you. But as he'd said, you were his best friend. You know him almost as well as Sam does, and probably even better than Benny knows him. His mom adores you, and you were there for him when John passed away from a heart attack.

Ever since that night you met, with the way you had yelled over to his apartment to keep the noise down, he'd felt there was something different about you. Those feelings had only grown as he'd gotten to know you better over the years. However, he couldn't bring himself to ruin such an important relationship by confessing he was in love with you. Especially since there wasn't any concrete evidence that you returned his feelings. Once he decided he had no chance of a romantic relationship with you, he set his sights on the building's newest resident, Paulina.

He couldn't believe your suggestion of a fake relationship with you as his "girlfriend", but it made sense. It was human nature to want what we can't have. Therefore, when Paulina saw him dating you, it would make him appear unattainable. Sounded simple enough.

She would see it as a challenge to see if she can take him away from you. When she did, the theory will have been proven correct, and you would break up with him. Then he would be with Paulina, like he wanted. But why didn't that thought send a thrill of excitement through him? Is she even who he really wanted? Dean closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep, not quite ready to answer these questions.

***

A few weeks go by under your new "arrangement" with Dean, and though you were close before, the lines were becoming even more blurred. His touches lingered a little longer than usual, his smiles were a bit softer when he was around you. When you walked together, he would randomly grab your hand, intertwining your fingers, and give you a knowing smile. His hand on the small of your back or around your waist sent a signal to anyone who saw that you were with him.

His friends were starting to ask questions about your relationship, as were his mom and Sam. Some of them congratulated the two of you, with exclamations of "FINALLY!" rippling through the friends and family group chats. On your side, Jody, Donna, Eileen, and even Charlie remained cautiously optimistic about it, only wanting what was best for you. At the same time, they silently plotted a backup plan for Dean's demise, should he ever hurt you.

One night at the bar, you and Dean were on a double date with Sam and Eileen, with the women playing a game of pool opposite the men. When it was your turn, Dean left to get the next round of drinks, as it was his turn to buy. Sam took his shot, then Eileen took hers. You looked around to see why Dean wasn't back yet, then your stomach dropped when you saw the reason. Paulina was leaning up against the bar, keeping Dean company while he waited for the drinks.

"Who's that?" Sam pointed.

"Huh? Where?" you pretended not to notice.

Sam gestured again to his brother as he chatted with the mysterious woman, who was laughing and brushing her hand along his arm. "Over there, that woman," he remarked.

"Oh, her? That's Paulina. She lives in our building, a couple of doors down from Dean," you replied with a shrug, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Why is she touching him like that, and why does this not bother you?" he asked. "Do I need to say something to him?"

"Sam, no! It's not like that. She's just uh-a friend, a-and I trust Dean," you answered, swallowing hard to keep your emotions in check.

Sensing something amiss, Sam pulled you away from the pool table so your conversation would not be overheard, but he was still in eyesight of his wife. "What's going on with you two? I swear, if he's cheating on you, I'll kick his ass," he growled, ready to storm over to the bar.

"No, Sam," you placed a hand on his chest to stop him. "He's not cheating on me," you assured him. Can't cheat on a 'fake girlfriend', you thought bitterly.

"Then what is it? You two have been dancing around each other for the past five years. Believe me, we're all tired of the 'will they, won't they'. Now that you're finally together, it looks like Dean's eyes are elsewhere and you aren't all that bothered by it. So spill."

You took a deep breath trying to steady your nerves before you responded. "Okay, I'll tell you. BUT you have to promise to keep it between you and me. And do NOT let your mother know." Why should her heart get broken in all of this? you thought. Sam reluctantly nodded and drew an "X" over his heart, then you explained the situation.

"Wow," he exhaled deeply. "You know you're both idiots, right?"

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. "Gee, thank you so much, Sam, for your support. I'm so glad I told you about it," you retorted and moved to go around him and back to the table, but he caught your arm.

"Whoa, wait a minute. You're one for allowing him to use you like this, but I understand why. HE'S the bigger idiot for not realizing that what he's looking for is right in front of him," he finished softly.

"Charlie isn't too happy about the deal either," you shared. "She thinks this has, and I quote, 'disaster written all over it'. I've been in love with Dean for as long as I can remember. However, if that means letting him go so he can be happy with someone else, then that's what I have to do," you replied.

Sam brushed away the few tears that had slipped down your cheek. "You say the word, and I'll knock some sense into that brother of mine, okay?" he promised. "I have no problem smacking him upside the head, if that's what it takes."

At the mental picture he painted, you gave him a watery smile. "Thank you, Sam. I'll let you know if I need to call in that favor." You wiped away any remaining tears with your sleeve, then took a deep breath to calm your nerves. "Am I good?" He nodded, then casually slung an arm around your shoulder as you both walked back to the table.

By the time you and Sam returned, Dean was also back with the next round of drinks. He noted how close you were with his brother and felt an unexpected twinge of jealousy. Though he knew it was irrational because Sam had Eileen, it didn't completely go away, either. When you reached his side, he leaned in close to your ear. "You two looked rather cozy," he murmured.

You drew back slightly to look him in the eye. "No more than you and Paulina," you replied quietly, then moved to take your shot.

For the rest of the evening, the tension between you and Dean only grew, until you could no longer stand it. You decided to end your night out before midnight, claiming to be feeling a bit tired from not sleeping well lately.

Sam and Eileen were sorry to see you and Dean go, but assured you that they would likely be leaving soon as well. Hugs were exchanged, with Sam's lingering a bit. "'Member what I said," he mumbled. You patted his back in response, then pulled away and took Dean's outstretched hand.

***

The ride home was eerily silent except for the music on the radio being played at a low volume. "So, you're not sleeping well? How long has that been going on that you're not getting a good night's sleep, sweetheart?"

Well, you thought. Hmm. It could be because I'm in a fake relationship with my best friend. Except I want to be in a real one with him and I'm too much of a coward to say so. Or, maybe I wish that my heart didn't break every time I see some other woman touching you when only I should have that privilege. Perhaps it's because I realize I have no right to feel the way I do, not when I agreed to do this for you. Only you don't say any of this out loud to Dean.

"Been kind of busy with work lately, that's all," you shrugged. "Charlie keeps sending me assignments, and they're too interesting to pass up, so I agree to do them. Hopefully my workload will stabilize soon and I can go back to normal." You swallowed hard before you continued. "I saw Paulina was at the bar tonight."

"Yeah, I talked with her while I waited for our next round of drinks," he replied, a smile growing on his face. "Said there was this band playing at some club in a few weeks, and asked me if I wanted to go. She knows one of the guys in the band, and said she could probably get me in for free."

"Oh? Really? That sounds like fun," you replied, hoping you sounded neutral. "Seems like our little plan is working."

"Well, I wouldn't say it's working," he remarked. "It's progress, though," he grinned. You hummed in response and gave him a tight smile.

When Dean pulled the Impala into her parking space, it took all of your willpower to wait until he came around to open your door for you. The walk to the elevators and to your respective doors was quiet, the air filled with a tension that hadn't been there before tonight. Neither of you felt like talking, so it remained unsettled between you.

Though you lived across the hall from each other, Dean always insisted on stopping at your door first, and wouldn't leave until you were safely inside. You discreetly fished your keys out of your front pants pocket as soon as you stepped off the elevator, hoping he didn't notice. Just before you slid the key into the lock, you felt Dean's hand on your shoulder, causing you to turn around.

"Are you sure everything's okay? You've been kinda quiet since we left the bar," Dean asked.

"I'm fine, Dean. Promise," you answered, giving him a quick smile, then returning your attention to unlocking your door.

He snapped his fingers. "I almost forgot! Mom wanted me to invite you to dinner this Sunday. You know, now that we're 'dating'," he smirked and added air quotes.

You froze with your key only halfway turned in the lock. If you couldn't keep Sam from figuring it out, Mary was going to see right through you in a second. "I'm sorry, Dean. I wish I could, but I have something else going on this Sunday. Please give her my regrets," you finished, turning your key the rest of the way and gaining entry to your apartment. "Good night, Dean." You leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek then closed your door.

Dean stood and stared at your closed door for a few moments, then turned towards his own door. He shuffled across the hall and fumbled through the ring of keys until he found the right one. After he unlocked the door and opened it, he glanced back at your door. What is going on with you, sweetheart? Why won't you talk to me? he asked himself. Shaking his head, he entered his apartment, then he closed and relocked the door.

***

The following week, you and Dean were getting together for your usual Friday night dinner-and-a-movie. You had made some chocolate chip cookies and mini apple pies, while Dean was responsible for the pizza and popcorn. With a couple of bottles of your favorite beverage tucked under your arm, you stepped out of your apartment, locking the door behind you.

When you turned to head across the hall to Dean's place, you couldn't believe what you saw. Paulina and Dean looked to be deep in conversation, her hand running up and down his bicep, even occasionally squeezing it. Her other hand held a lock of her hair and was twirling it between her fingers. Knowing they wouldn't notice, you rolled your eyes, took a deep breath, and plastered a smile on your face.

"Hey you two!" you greeted them.

Dean took a small step away from Paulina and held out his arm. When you were close enough, he curled it around you and pulled you against his side. "Hey, sweetheart," he replied and pressed a kiss to your temple. "Whatcha got in the container?"

"Just some chocolate chip cookies and maybe some mini apple pies," you grinned.

"Ohhh, woman, you are too good to me. Love me some pie, especially apple," he gushed.

"So, what movie did you pick out for us to watch?" you asked.

"Nope, can't tell ya, 'cuz it's a surprise," he smirked, then turned to Paulina. "Now, if that heater gives you any more trouble, give me a call and I'll see what else I can do."

"Heating problems?" you questioned. "Probably best to have the landlord take a look at it, just in case, don't you think?"

"It's nothing serious, and I think I got it fixed for now. Ready for our dinner-and-a-movie night?" he inquired, giving you a little tug closer to his side.

"Absolutely. Have a good night, Paulina," you remarked as you followed Dean into his apartment. What you didn't see was the glare of pure jealousy on Paulina's face as you closed the door behind you.

***

Dean had ordered your favorite pizza and you put one of your two beverages in the fridge. You grabbed paper plates and the container of goodies, both of which you placed on the coffee table. Dean was busy scrolling through the streaming services to find the movie he had in mind for your evening. The strain between you from last week seemed to have somewhat dissipated, leaving behind two best friends enjoying each other's company.

Halfway through the movie, there was a knocking at the door. Dean paused the movie and the two of you looked at each other and shrugged before he got up to see who was there. "Paulina?"

Of course it's her, you silently muttered as you rolled your eyes. "Everything okay?" you asked. She strode into the apartment, wearing a thin tank top and a pair of pale pink boy shorts. Her arms were wrapped around her upper body, presumably in an effort to keep herself warm.

Seeing her discomfort, Dean rushed over and grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch, then draped it around her shoulders. He rubbed up and down on her arms and her back to start the warming process. He bent down to look her in the eye and smiled. "Better?" he wondered.

"Much better, thank you, Dean," Paulina replied. "Do you think you can fix my heater again? It's so cold over there," she practically purred.

"Shouldn't take too long," he answered, then caught your gaze. "I'll be right back, I promise." Without waiting for your response, he took his tool box out of the closet and headed over to her apartment.

For what felt like an eternity but was only a few minutes, the silence stretched between the two of you. Though you were convinced that this was some sort of setup to separate you and Dean, you decided to at least try and get to know her. "So," you began. "How do you like the town so far?"

She shrugged in response. "I guess it's not too bad," she remarked. "Wish it was bigger, though. More clubs to go to, then maybe we can get some decent music groups to play here," she muttered.

"Oh, that's right, Dean mentioned you had a friend in a band who's going to be at one of the clubs here in, what, a couple of weeks?" you inquired. "That sounds like fun."

"Yeah, they'll be here on the 13th, at Eclipse. Every time the band stops by, my friend gives me a couple of tickets," she responded.

The 13th? you thought. "That's my birthday. I don't usually make a fuss about it, except Dean does. He gets me flowers and then takes me out to dinner," you smiled as you casually checked your watch. What is taking so long? Why doesn't he just call the landlord to fix it?

"And, how long have you and Dean known each other? You two seem really close," Paulina asked.

"About five years now. We have a lot of the same friends, who also know each other outside of Dean and me. He's got a younger brother, who I would consider one of my close friends as well," you remarked. When she hummed in response, you detected a subtle shift in her demeanor. "What?"

"Oh, I just think it's....kind of sad, really. Pathetic, even," she answered, eyes narrowed at you.

You bristled at her comment and fought like hell to keep your composure. "What exactly are you getting at?"

"I mean, you've known each other for five years and you just started dating, while I've barely been here for a couple of months. And, he's over there fixing my heater instead of watching movies with you. Like I said--pathetic," she sneered.

"You wanna talk about 'pathetic'? 'Pathetic' is when you run around in shorts that are so skimpy, that your ass is hanging out of them. Or wearing tank tops so small your boobs are ready to pop out. All to get a man's attention," you shot back. "That's pathetic."

"Oh, and I suppose now you'll tell me that it's what's on the inside that counts," she mock-pouted, then let out a vicious laugh. "Maybe that worked for you for a while, but I know your ex cheated on you with your boss." Your eyes widened slightly at her statement. "Yeah. One of my friends told me what happened. She's friends with your old supervisor. Seems like you have a pattern of losing men to hotter women."

You rose from the couch, picking up your empty bottle and depositing it in the kitchen sink. "I think it's time I called it an evening. If Dean asks where I went, tell him he knows where to find me." With as much poise as you could muster, you left the apartment and crossed the hall to your own.

A few minutes later, Dean returned to his place. When he didn't see you at first glance, he thought you may have been in the bathroom, but the door to it was open. "Where'd she go?" he asked.

"Oh, she told me to tell you that she was tired of waiting around for you and that she was leaving. Something about having somewhere else more important to be," she answered.

Dean knew how much of a homebody you were and loved to hang out with him to watch movies. This made him skeptical at Paulina's response. "I'd better check on her," he remarked on his way back out the door.

"She won't be there. I saw her leave her apartment just before you got back. You know, I'm here, now. I would love to watch a movie with you," she purred.

He debated giving you a call to check in and make sure you were all right. On the other hand, the whole point of the agreement was to get Paulina interested in spending time with him. In turn, his hope was that it may lead to a long-term relationship with her. And here she was, asking him to watch a movie. "Let's pick out a new movie, then," he agreed as he reached for his drink and picked up the remote.

***

With another work week finished, you slowly closed your laptop and slumped back in your desk chair. There hadn't been much interaction between you and Dean without Paulina being around, not even when collecting your mail. He hadn't reached out to you after that disastrous dinner-and-a-movie night ended with you leaving his apartment early. You wonder what he thought when he noticed you were gone before he got back from fixing the heater. Or, more importantly, what Paulina had told him to make him not check in with you.

As you were contemplating what you should do next about Dean, your phone buzzed on your desk, causing it to dance around. When the caller ID showed "Charlie", you dismissed the pang of disappointment that it wasn't Dean. You plastered a smile on your face and answered as cheerfully as possible, hoping she wouldn't see right through you.

"Hey there, Charlie! How's it going?" you began.

"I wanted to ask if you still had that guest room all set up," she inquired.

"Of course I do, but why?" you asked.

"Because I'm about to give you the greatest gift possible for your birthday on the 13th," she replied cryptically.

"Ooh! Tell me, tell me, what is it?" you begged.

"I probably should make you wait to find out, but since I'll need someone to pick me up from the airport on the 11th--" she didn't get a chance to finish before you let out a squeal of excitement.

"AAAHHHH! No way! That's so awesome that you're coming to visit for my birthday! I will be at the airport with bells on," you promised.

She spent the next few minutes going over her itinerary with you, including her flight numbers and when to expect her to arrive. "I've also been talking with the others in the chat, and we want to plan a night out for your birthday. I'm talking dinner, drinks, dancing, the three D's," she explained. "The big question is, will there be a fourth 'D'? As in, will Dean be there?" she added cautiously.

You paused, reflecting on the events of the past week. "I....haven't talked to him much this week. I think we must keep missing each other at the mailbox," you chuckled nervously. "I--we--should let him know about the party. I'll give him a call, send him a text message, or something, so he knows about it."

"As long as you still want him there," Charlie responded carefully.

"Of course I do! Regardless of the situation with Paulina, he's still my best friend, and I want him to be there. Besides, he wouldn't dare miss my birthday," you affirmed. However, your voice sounded more confident than you felt at the moment, and Charlie easily picked up on it.

"All right, spill. What happened?" she sighed. You explained the events of a few Fridays ago, how Paulina interrupted in her skimpy pajamas and Dean didn't hesitate to run to the rescue. Then you relayed your conversation while you were alone in his apartment with her, all the horrible things she said. You wondered if that had something to do with why you and Dean hadn't spoken much this week.

"It's my own stupid fault, Charlie. I mean, this was the main objective, right? I pretend to be his girlfriend long enough to give him a chance to wedge his foot in the door before Paulina can slam it closed. Once that happens, I fade into the background and resume my role as his best friend, while he rides off into the sunset with his dream woman," you finished.

"Pity? Party of one? Your table is now available," she teased. When you didn't respond with even a half-hearted chuckle, she tried again. "Look, maybe that is what happens, where you go back to being his best friend, but it doesn't have to go down that way. If being with Dean is what you want, then you should fight for him."

The two of you talk for a little while longer before she gets a knock at her door with her food delivery. It occurs to you that you haven't left the apartment all day to pick up your mail, let alone get something for dinner. You'd survived the day by mostly nibbling on fruits and other snacks, plus keeping up with your water intake. Charlie comes back to the phone long enough to remind you to let Dean know about the party, then she says goodbye, thus ending the call.

***

After pulling on some shoes, you grabbed your keys and headed out the door. You hoped you would run into Dean so you could invite him to your birthday party. As you closed and locked your door, the one to his apartment was opening. But instead of seeing Dean, it was Paulina, leaving, dressed only in a towel covering her body and one atop her head. From off to Dean's side, she threw you a knowing smirk, her arms loosely hugging her body.

You quickly looked away and started for the elevator, only for luck to not be on your side when Dean called out your name. Pausing a little ways down the hall to the elevator, you turned to face him. "H-hey there, Dean," you waved tentatively. "I was just on my way down to pick up my mail, so don't let me keep you and Paulina." You gave him a quick smile and backed away a couple of steps before he caught your hand.

"Wait a second, this isn't what it looks like," he hastily remarked. Oh, that was original, he mentally face-palmed. "Paulina came over earlier in the afternoon, said her shower quit halfway through and asked if she could use mine. That's all. She's going back to her apartment, now that she's done." He looked at her pointedly until she tsked loudly and rolled her eyes in exasperation before returning to her apartment.

When she was out of sight, you glanced at Dean again. "There's no need to explain, Dean," you assured him. "That's the beauty of this arrangement, isn't it? You wanted a way in to spending time with Paulina. Looks like it's all working perfectly," you noted with a shrug, pressing the "down" button for the elevator.

As the two of you stood waiting for the elevator, there was an uneasy silence that neither of you were sure how to break. Dean tried first. "So, how've you been? Haven't talked to you since our dinner-and-a-movie night was interrupted."

Memories of that night came flooding back, including the conversation between you and Paulina, alone in Dean's apartment. Your eyes were cast downward, your shoes suddenly becoming the most interesting object in the world. "Uh, yeah, I've had a lot of new projects to handle, which has kept me occupied. In fact, this is the first time in a couple of days that I've even left my apartment, so I should have quite a bit of mail waiting for me."

"Oh," he replied. "Because when I got back to my place, you weren't there like I thought you'd be. I didn't think I was even gone very long. I guess maybe you decided that you had somewhere else more important to be, like out in town with friends."

Your head snapped up, eyes wide at his unusually snarky remark. "What??" you whispered. "Where in the world would you get an idea like that?"

"It doesn't matter where I heard it," he defended. "Look, if you didn't want to hang out with me that night, you could've just said so. Instead, you take off before I get back? Without a word? That's not like you. At least Paulina was there to watch The Breakfast Club with me," he muttered.

That was your movie. Yours and Dean's. It was the one you had watched together at least 100 times and could quote back and forth, no matter the situation. And he watched it with her?? You could feel the anger building and the tears stinging behind your eyes. There was no way you were going to let them fall in front of him.

"Dean, I had no idea how long you were going to be gone fixing Paulina's heater. Besides, as you pointed out, she was there, waiting for you, which was the whole point of what we're doing. Therefore, I'd say 'Mission Accomplished'," you added sarcastically.

"But--"

"And I didn't go out in town with anyone that night. I left your apartment and went back to mine, where I changed into pajamas, then went to bed with my book. Not that it should be any of your business, though. Because, hey, it's not like I'm your real girlfriend, right?" you retorted. As soon as the elevator stopped and the doors opened, you bolted through them. You ran past the mailboxes, out the entrance to your building and quickly slid behind the wheel of your car.

Dean rushed after you, but by the time he caught up, you had already backed out of your parking space. He stood hunched over, his hands on his knees while he tried to catch his breath. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to take them back. The surprised and hurt look on your face from what he said was something he didn't want to be the cause of ever again.

With a chirp of your tires, you sped out of the parking lot. You didn't know where you were headed, only that you needed to go somewhere to think. And there was no way you could do that if Dean was around. So, you hopped on the road to take you to the outskirts of town to get as far away from him as you could.

***

Dean trudged back into the building, now worried about where you'd gone by yourself at this time of night. He ran through your conversation in his head, wondering where exactly the wheels fell off. Since Paulina had gone home after her shower, he was going to invite you in for a redo of the Friday night that got interrupted. Guess that's out the window for now, he internally grumbled.

He thought about calling Sam to get some brotherly advice on how to make it up to you. But he thought better of it, because then he'd have to explain about what was going on between you. He couldn't call his mom or your girlfriends, either, because they'd tear him apart for what he said to you. I'm a man without a country, he mused.

When he returned from picking up his mail, Paulina was waiting by his door. "There you are, Dean, I was so worried about you. I heard what happened out here after I left," she gushed.

"I really don't want to talk about it right now, Paulina. You should go home, I'll see you later," he murmured.

"But wait! I wanted to tell you, I got tickets for us to Eclipse. You know, that club to see my friend's band?" she tried again.

Dean paused after crossing the threshold into his apartment. With his door still open, he turned around to face Paulina. "When is that again?"

"The 13th. I thought we could get all dressed up, and go out for dinner first, then we head to the club," she suggested.

"Let me check my schedule. I think I have an important event going on that night, so I'll have to get back to you. Goodnight, Paulina," he stated more firmly this time.

As his door was almost closed, she stopped it with her hand and pushed it open a little more. "Dean," she began, "are you sure you should be alone tonight? I mean, I'd be pretty upset if my best friend took off like that so late in the evening. Especially after an argument," she added.

Dean tilted his head towards the ceiling and heaved a deep sigh. "I suppose I could use some company. Might take my mind off of things," he agreed and opened the door to let her in.

Paulina had to work hard to hold back a squeal of victory, but she kept her composure. By the time you get back, Dean will be all mine, she vowed to herself.

***

Up the winding road you drove until you reached the top of Stargazer's Hill at City Park. You pulled over into a parking spot, then tucked your phone into your pocket. Some picnic tables dotted the open space, and were a short distance from where you'd parked your car. You climbed up on one and sat on the table, with your feet resting on the bench.

Taking a deep breath, you leaned back on your hands and tilted your head up at the glittery night sky. Now that you were away from all of the light pollution, it was easier to see the billions of points of light covering the inky atmosphere above you. On your right side, your phone buzzed with an incoming phone call. Caller ID: Sam.

You sighed harshly before picking up the call. "Look, I don't want to talk about it, Sam. Not right now anyway," you declared.

"Whoa, what's gotten into you?" he asked, bewildered.

"What, you mean your brother hasn't called to talk to you? I'm surprised," you replied.

"About what? Never mind. What did he do this time?" Sam inquired.

"Nothing. If he didn't tell you, I'm not going to either. Goodnight, Sam," you started to hang up but then remembered. "The only thing I will tell you is that Charlie will be here on the 11th, and she wants to get together with everyone on the 13th," you mentioned. Your friend group had met Charlie on more than one occasion. Fortunately, she fit right in as if she'd been around since the day you'd met all of them.

"For your birthday? That's great! What's the plan?" he wondered.

You mentioned that you and Charlie were going to spend the day together on the 12th, hanging out and catching up with each other. On the 13th, she wanted the group to go out to dinner somewhere, then for drinks and dancing at The Element, one of two clubs in town. You gave him the approximate times for each phase of the evening, in case he and Eileen wanted to join you.

"I think we can squeeze in some time to make an appearance for dinner and dancing. What did Dean say when you told him? I know he likes to make kind of a big deal about your birthday," he added.

"We're not exactly on speaking terms right now, at least I'm not. I'll send him a text message or something when I get home," you murmured.

"Wait, you're out by yourself? At this time of night?" Sam asked.

"Geez, Sam, I'm up on Stargazer's Hill in City Park. Not like I'm in the middle of nowhere. But don't worry, Dad, I'll be going home after I pick up something for dinner," you muttered.

"I am worried about you, somebody has to be. And if my brother's being a jackass, as I suspect he is, then it falls to me to worry about you," he defended.

"Okay, Sam," you sighed. "I don't feel like arguing with anyone anymore tonight. I'll text you with the info about the 13th." You said your goodbyes and the call ended. After placing your phone in your back pocket, you got down from the picnic table and walked to your car.

Once behind the wheel, you leaned your head back in your seat and took a deep breath. As angry as you were with Dean, you still wanted him to be there for your birthday party. You pulled your phone out and sent him a text message about it, then started the car and headed towards home.

***

Dean sat slumped on his couch, an unopened bottle of water on top of a wooden coaster that was shaped like a vinyl record. It was from a set you had found when the two of you visited the Rock N' Roll Hall Of Fame last year. His eyes focused on the phone in his hand, almost willing you to call it. All he wanted was confirmation that you had returned safely home. The rest could be figured out later, but there was no way he would sleep unless he knew where you were.

Paulina sat on the couch with him, but was keeping a respectable distance. At the moment, anyway. She could see the background of his phone was a picture of the two of you, fireworks from the 4th of July going off in the background. No matter, she thought. I'll show him that between you and me, I'm the better option as a girlfriend, and not you. "Dean? You've been staring at your phone ever since you got back."

He tore his eyes away from his phone to glance at Paulina, giving her a half-hearted smile. "I really wish I knew where she was, if she was safe," he murmured. "I don't like the idea of her being out there alone at this time of night."

Paulina narrowly resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You know, I'm sure she's fine. Probably needed some 'alone time' to figure things out," she suggested.

"Maybe. But you didn't see the look on her face, Paulina. I shouldn't have snapped at her like I did. I need to apologize to her," he added. He stared longingly at his door, missing the flash of light at the arrival of a text message from you.

I have to distract him from his phone, she thought. "Um, Dean? Could I please get something to drink? A soda, or a water, maybe?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure. I'll be right back," he promised as he rose from the couch. "I should leave this here, then I won't be tempted to stare at it, pathetically waiting for her to text or call. Here," he held out his phone to Paulina. "Will you please put it on the table, next to my bottle of water? Think I need something stronger."

She made a show of doing as he'd asked, but as soon as he was out of sight, she picked it up again. Fortunately, it was unlocked, so she wouldn't have to guess his code and risk locking him out if she guessed wrong too many times. She accessed the message app, found your text about the party and deleted it. Sorry, 'bestie', but all's fair in love and war, she smirked to herself.

***

When you pulled into your parking space at the apartments, you turned off the engine and leaned back against the headrest. A glance at your phone as it sat in the cup holder had you debating on whether or not to check it for a response from Dean. You didn't recall hearing a notification of a return text, but then again, your music was up a bit loud.

On the way up in the elevator, you continued to resist the temptation to check your phone. Before turning the key in the lock, you looked over your shoulder at Dean's door and debated on whether or not to talk to him. The decision was made for you when you saw Paulina tiptoeing out of his place, and was on the phone with someone.

You froze in place, not wanting to draw attention to yourself by moving. The last thing you needed was a confrontation with Paulina. As she walked away, you heard snippets of conversation like, "be there on the 13th" and "Dean can't wait to meet you". From what you heard, you figured it meant one of two things. Either Dean saw the message, ignored it, and made other plans, or he hasn't seen the message yet. For now, you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, then entered your apartment and locked the door.

***

The next couple of days were spent getting ready for Charlie's arrival from Chicago and the festivities to take place on Saturday the 13th. Fresh sheets were put on the bed and fresh towels placed in the bathroom for her, along with her favorite drinks and snacks in the kitchen. You picked her up from the airport and grabbed some burgers and fries on the way home for dinner.

On the 12th, you went shopping with Jody, Donna, Charlie, and Eileen to find you the perfect dress for your party at The Element. You found a black lace, off-the-shoulder swing dress with a high-low hemline. A pair of black Mary Jane pumps with crystals around the edge of the buckle completed your apparel choices.

As you lay in bed that night, you thought about the events of the day, which brought a smile to your face. Your smile faltered a little when you realized you haven't heard from Dean at all since the day you stormed out of the building. Not even a reply to the text message about the party at The Element tomorrow night.

His silence made you wonder if your years of friendship were truly over, all because of the situation with Paulina. Though you closed your eyes, any meaningful sleep would elude you for some time that night.

***

All during the day on the 13th, your phone randomly pinged with calls and text messages from friends and family. Some of them would be joining you for dinner at Ravelli's, your favorite Italian restaurant. Those not going to dinner with you were going to meet you at The Element later that evening for drinks and dancing.

Each time your phone notifications went off, you eagerly checked it, waiting to see that one name: Dean. Though with everything that had happened recently, you weren't sure you would see anything from him.

Still desperately wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt, you shook off the negative thoughts and continued to get ready. Before exiting your room, you pulled out your phone and sent Dean a simple text to see if, despite the tension, he would be at the restaurant. You dropped your phone into your sparkly clutch purse and headed to the living room to meet your friends.

At Ravelli's, the maître d' escorted everyone to the private room in the back. Appetizers were ordered, followed by your beverage orders being served. Once everyone had a drink in hand, Charlie proposed a birthday toast to you, bringing a warmth to your cheeks. Others followed, and the room was filled with laughter and other happy sounds.

"By the way, where's Dean? I thought for sure he'd be here," Jody asked, her gaze turned to you.

"I-I think said he's um....working late," you stammered.

"Tonight of all nights, chérie?" wondered Benny, who was sitting to your right.

"We-we haven't been able to see much of each other these past few days. Been busy working late at the shop, you know," you chuckled nervously. "Shall we order? What's everyone having?" you wondered in an attempt to diffuse the growing tension.

Once the orders were placed, you excused yourself to the restroom. After you washed your hands, you sent a text to Dean, asking him if he's on his way to meet you at the restaurant. One last check in the mirror, and you were out the door, only to run into someone on your way. "Oops, sorr--oh, hey, Sam!"

"Never mind that, why isn't he here? Did you even tell him? And what is this 'working late' business? I drive by the shop every night on my way home, and the Impala isn't there," Sam replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "What's going on?"

Your gaze dropped to the floor. "Not now, Sam. Please," you implored. "We really haven't spoken since that night, and truthfully, I've been kind of avoiding him ever since. He didn't even reply to my text message about tonight."

Sam swore under his breath. "That idiot," he mumbled while he thought for a few moments. He hooked his arm around you and pulled you into a hug. "Listen, I know he's my brother, but you deserve better than the way he's treating you. Find your happy, even if it isn't with Dean."

You pulled back to catch Sam's gaze. "Thank you, Sam," you whispered. You gave him one last squeeze and returned to the table. Once you were seated, you pulled out your phone and sent Dean another text message before locking it away in your purse again. Sam had also returned and within a few more moments, your meals were being brought out to the table.

***

Across town at Eclipse, the other club

Dean's hand was loosely curled around his beer, with drops of condensation slowly rolling down the bottom half of the bottle. He was slouched in his chair, staring at the stage and waiting for the band to start. As such, he missed how his phone lit up with yet another text message, with someone asking where he was and why he wasn't with you.

Paulina arrived at the table in time to see the last one come through. "The band's about to start, if you want another drink or to use the restroom or something," she suggested.

"Yeah....," Dean murmured.

"These are great seats, aren't they? Right up front," she beamed. "Shadow really came through for us, like he always does."

"Yeah....," he whispered. "Wait, what? Who's Shadow?"

"He's my friend, silly, the one who got us these tickets. Seriously, are you okay, Dean? You seem a little distracted tonight," Paulina pouted.

"I'm sorry. It feels like I'm supposed to be somewhere else tonight," he replied, then stood up from his chair. "I'm gonna go to the restroom, splash some cold water on my face and I'll be back." He turned and gave her a wink before forging a path through the crowd to the bathroom.

As soon as he was out of eyesight, Paulina shifted in her chair with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. She was annoyed at Dean for being so inattentive tonight. And, to top it off, he'd been miserable ever since his argument with you, which was something she couldn't understand. Why would he want to be with you, when he can be with me? she inwardly fumed.

She glanced down in time to see yet another text message come through, this time from someone named "Jody". Immediately on its heels was a phone call from his brother, Sam. "Ugh! Why won't they leave us alone!" she snapped, swiping to decline the call. His phone wasn't unlocked this time, but she caught the code once when she was peering over his shoulder. A few clicks, then a few more swipes deleted any evidence of the texts and phone calls.

***

At the club, Benny picked up the first round of drinks, while Charlie slipped over to the DJ's booth to request a song. Before you knew it, the DJ announced that it was your birthday and the whole club sang "Happy Birthday" to you. Once the embarrassment subsided, Benny held out his hand and asked you to dance, which you accepted.

Though it was your favorite slow song, and it felt good to dance with someone, you couldn't help that your mind was definitely elsewhere. In the background, you registered that someone was talking to you, but the voice sounded as if underwater.

"Chérie? Are you all right?" Benny asked.

"Hmm? Yeah, sure, I'm fine. Why, what'd I miss?" you wondered.

"Nothin', I was askin' if you were having a good time. You've had that faraway look in your eyes ever since dinner or whenever anyone asks you about Dean," he replied.

Your eyes dropped to the floor and you cringed at being caught not paying attention. "I'm so sorry, Ben. It's not you, it's--"

"Dean," he supplied. You nodded sadly in response. "I hope you can forgive me for saying this, but he's not being a good boyfriend to you. He should be here, with you, on your most special of days."

"You're right, he should be," you murmured. "Only, I'm not the one he really wants." At his puzzled look, you launched into an explanation of the deal between you and Dean. He listened intently, nodding in the right places and didn't interrupt. You finished with a deep sigh and waited for his response.

"Well," he started. "That's really--"

"Pitiful, I know," you muttered.

"No, I was gonna say that's mighty noble of you to do that for him," he remarked softly. "He doesn't know about your affection for him, or, if he does, he's ignorin' it. But, with what you're doin' fer him, you've pretty much told him to his face. Any man who would go after some other woman on purpose after gettin' even a fraction of your love doesn't deserve it."

Tears prickled behind your eyelids, but you fought to keep them in check. "Thank you, Benny. That's probably one of the most beautiful things anyone's ever said to me," you affirmed.

"You're welcome, darlin'. And I meant ev'ry word," he replied with a grin. He tightened his arms around you a fraction more, while you rested your head on his chest and closed your eyes.

***

Dean's phone lit up after the last song of the set ended. Caller ID said it was Sam, so he knew it had to be important. "Excuse me, I've gotta take this," he hastily stood up from his chair and walked outside of Eclipse.

"What's up, Sam?" he answered.

"Where the hell are you??" Sam snapped.

"I'm at Eclipse with Paulina, where the hell am I supposed to be?" Dean shot back.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe at The Element for your best friend's birthday," he retorted. "You already missed dinner earlier at Ravelli's. Believe me, your absence did not go unnoticed."

"What are you talking about? That's tonight?? Nobody told me about any plans for her birthday," Dean remarked. "We haven't seen much of each other for a while, and--"

"Yeah, I'm aware of that, and I know about the little 'deal' you made with her to get Paulina to notice you. If you ask me, you're going after the wrong woman," Sam muttered.

Dean ran his hand across his face, trying to collect his thoughts. Maybe Sam was right, as much as he hated to admit it. But about this? He had to talk to you, let you know how badly he missed you....and to apologize. "All right, I'll be there in ten minutes. Don't let her leave, okay?" he pleaded.

"I won't. Just get over here and fix this, Dean. See you soon," Sam assured him.

He poked his head into the bar to see Paulina chatting with Shadow and the other members of the band between sets. She'd be okay with them while he sorted out this thing with you, then he would come back and pick her up.

On the drive over to the club, he mentally kicked himself for forgetting your birthday. It had never happened, not in five years, that he had missed it. Then again, he hasn't exactly been in his right mind since....Paulina. Could be Sam had a point, that he was going after the wrong woman. Time to find out tonight.

***

Seven minutes later, Dean walked into The Element, scanning the crowd for you. He works his way through, quickly says 'hello' to everyone in passing, and brushes off their remarks about where he's been.

He stopped short when he saw you on the dance floor with his best friend, Benny, whose chin rested on the top of your head. There's a sweet smile on your face and your eyes are closed as the two of you sway back and forth.

Dean felt the color drain from his face at the sight. When the song ended, you and Benny took a step back from each other, though your hand was still in his. Am I too late? he wondered. Wait, he knows how I feel about you, so why does he think he has the right to dance with you? His fists clenched at his sides at the thought.

As you reached the edge of the dance floor, you gasped at seeing your best friend. "Dean?" you whispered.

"Can we please talk? In private?" he gritted out.

You released Benny's hand and caught his gaze. "I'll be right back, Ben," you smiled.

Dean took your hand and you walked with him to an empty table. "Why didn't you tell me about tonight? Celebrating your birthday together is something we usually do," he pointed out.

"We used to do a lot of things, Dean. Key words, used to. And I sent you multiple texts about tonight, even after you were such a jerk to me that night," you seethed.

"What are you talking about? I never got any texts from you or anyone else. No phone calls, nothing," he snapped.

"Maybe you should check with your real girlfriend on that. I wouldn't put it past her to delete that kind of stuff off your phone," you accused.

"Of course you'd think that about her," he sneered. "Are you still pissed about what happened that night I went over to fix her heater?"

"It's not just about what happened on that last dinner-and-a-movie night, Dean. It's every time that woman is around, I cease to exist in your eyes. Which, yeah, I guess that's the point with this 'arrangement', isn't it. I just didn't–"

"'You just didn't' what? C'mon, tell me," he demanded.

You shook your head and started to walk towards the door to leave the club, but he caught your hand. "Let me go, Dean," you warned.

"Not until you finish what you were going to say," he stated firmly.

"I didn't think–" you stumbled again.

"WHAT?! Just say it!" he thundered.

"I didn't think it would hurt this much, okay?!?" you shouted. "I didn't realize how much it would tear my heart to ribbons to see you with someone else," you admitted. "I know, it's my own fault since it was sort of my idea, and I agreed to do it. I mean, you asked me to and it was important to you. I was willing to do whatever would make you happy, even if I wasn't. But now....it's best for me to bow out gracefully with what's left of my dignity....and my heart," you choked out.

By now it occurred to you that the entire club had gone silent, even with the music. When his grip on your wrist lessened, you ripped your hand away. Your eyes met Charlie's across the room and she rushed over to guide you out to her car. She helped you get settled then climbed in herself to drive back to your apartment.

Dean stood frozen in place as he watched you walk out the door with Charlie. He felt a pull on his arm and when he looked down, he saw Paulina, fury in her eyes. "Paulina? I--"

"Save it, Dean! How could you just abandon me at the club like that? First, you've been distracted all night. Second, you never came back from your phone call," she huffed.

"I'm sorry, I should've come back inside to tell you where I was going and made sure you got home okay," he admitted. "Remember how I told you I thought I was missing something important tonight? Well, I was, because I should've been here. It's her--"

"Birthday, yeah, I know all about it Dean," she replied sarcastically. "Your phone has been blowing up all night with all these annoying text messages and phone calls asking why you weren't here."

"What?" he whispered. "You deleted my notifications? How dare you invade my privacy like that!?!" he roared.

"They wouldn't leave you alone! All I wanted was one night out with you to hang out with my friends," she spat.

"Ever since you moved in, I've been trying to get to know you. I thought you were someone that if we got together, we could maybe build a future," he explained.

"I don't see why any of that has to change, Dean. I can see a future with you. We belong together," Paulina implored.

"Maybe now you think that's true, but before, you never gave me a chance to ask you out for coffee, a drink, a date, anything. You didn't show me any kind of interest until you thought I was in a relationship."

"That's not true, Dean. I was new in the building, had to make you work for it," she added weakly.

"Well, I don't play games. You know, it happened exactly like she said it would. You wanted what you didn't have, so you decided you'd take it--take me--from the one who did have me. Just to see if you could do it."

"So all of this was to prove a point?" she screeched. "You never were in a relationship with anyone?" Dean shook his head while fury took over Paulina's face "I can't believe you tricked me into believing you were with that--that--"

"Do not even THINK about finishing that sentence," he warned. "I may not have been her boyfriend before, but damn, if I don't wish that I was now. I can't believe it's taken me this long to figure it out," he remarked.

"I don't see what's so great about her," Paulina retorted.

"I'll tell you. She's supported me through everything I've done. Like when I bought the garage from Bobby when he retired, and started running my own shop. She was there for me and my family when my dad died of a heart attack. She's celebrated my highs and helped me through my lows," he explained.

"You'd rather be with a sappy, average little nobody, than a woman like me? I don't understand, how is that even possible?"

"Well, it doesn't matter if you understand it, because it's basically reality. I'm in love with my best friend. Right now, I owe her a massive apology and so much more. And this?" he motioned between them. "Is done." He turned on his heel and walked out of the club to find you.

"Oh yeah?? You think you're soooo special, Dean Winchester? Well, you're not. There are plenty of guys out there, better than you, and more worthy of my time!" Paulina ranted. She turned just in time to see your friends advancing on her position.

"I think it's time for you to leave. You're not welcome here, not after the crap you just pulled," Jody remarked, arms crossed over her chest. Echoes of the same sentiment rippled through your group of friends and even some of the bystanders.

"Fine. Let her have him, then. All he ever did was talk about her anyway. They deserve each other," Paulina muttered under her breath as she spun on her heel and marched out of the club.

"You bet your ass they do."

***

"Are you sure you want to do this, Charlie? I mean, if you don't want to cash in the other half of your plane ticket, I'd understand," you offered.

"I know you would, honey, but I'm sure. And I didn't buy my ticket, the company did, so in a sense I'm saving them money. Anyway, what better way is there to help heal a broken heart than a road trip with your bestie, I ask you," she quipped.

"Okay, you got me with that one," you laughed. "I'm almost done in here, if you want to wait in the living room for me." She nodded and gave your shoulder a squeeze before leaving you to finish packing.

As you were zipping up your suitcase, you thought you heard a specific pattern of knocks at your front door. You paused then slowly walked out to the living room to listen, only to hear the knocks again. "What should I do?" Charlie asked.

"Sweetheart, I know you're in there. I'm so sorry for what happened. Please let me in, I need to talk to you," Dean pleaded. 

You looked to Charlie for guidance on whether or not to let him in, but she looked as undecided as you. "I've said all I'm going to say to you for the time being, Dean. Please, just let it go for now and maybe we can talk later," you tried.

"No can do, baby," he replied immediately. "It's been too long without you, and I'll admit it, I'm a mess. I can't eat, haven't slept much, if at all, and I....miss you. The sound of your voice, even if it's because you're yelling at me. Your text messages, whether short and sweet or long ones sharing your thoughts on life. Your eyes, despite how you love to roll them at me. And....your smile. I especially miss it, because I haven't given you much reason lately to show it to me."

By this time, tears are silently streaming down your face. Your heart wanted nothing more than to yank the door open and throw yourself into his arms. However, your head remained cautious, on edge, and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Despite your doubts, you decided to give in to your heart a little and gestured for Charlie to open the door. The man on the other side did indeed look miserable, like he hadn't slept in weeks. "Hey, sweetheart," he sighed, giving you a tender smile.

Still skeptical, you maintain your distance from him with your arms crossed over your chest as you allow him to enter your apartment. "What about Paulina?" you asked warily.

"Gone. We're done. Over with. Turns out you were right. She erased all of my text messages and declined my phone calls that said anything about tonight," he affirmed.

"That b---" Charlie blurted out, but stopped and gave you a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry. I'll be in my room if you need anything." From behind his back, Charlie gave the I'm-watching-you gesture.  You barely had time to suppress a small grin before returning your attention to Dean.

"Dean, I'm sorry that you and Paulina didn't work out. I know how much you wanted it to. Even though I wasn't your real girlfriend, the experience was better than I could've imagined," you admitted.

"You've thought about it? About us?" he asked.

"For a long time, yes. So many times I came so close to telling you, but then when you started to go on about Paulina, I couldn't say anything. Now, when the next woman comes along, I'll be pushed to the background again," you remarked softly.

"That's not gonna happen," he replied firmly, shaking his head.

"You can't know that for certain, Dean, and I can't chance it. My heart won't take it," you countered.

"I do know for certain, because there won't be any other women. The only one I want is you. I've thought about us, too, for a long time. I had no idea if you felt the same about me. I couldn't risk our friendship if you didn't love me the way that I love you," he confessed.

"You love me?" you whispered.

Dean nodded. "I do. After all this time, it's always been you, sweetheart. It might have taken me a little longer than everyone else to see it, but I am yours. Will you be mine?"

At his confession, more tears began to stream down your cheeks. "Of course, Dean. I always have been yours. Always will be," you added.

Throughout your conversation, Dean had been taking small steps towards you to close the distance between you. When his hand reached up to caress your cheek, you jumped, which elicited a nervous giggle from the two of you. He leaned closer and tenderly brushed his lips over yours, then drew back a bit.

Your hands slid up his chest and curled around the back of his head. You briefly teased the short hairs at the nape of his neck before pulling him closer again. When your lips met this time, it was like fireworks had gone off in a kaleidoscope of colors. To feel the movement of his mouth on yours was like a dream from which you never wanted to awaken. You could faintly taste the remnants of the beer he had earlier, while he licked away the coarse salt from your lips, courtesy of your margarita.

When you were almost out of oxygen, the kiss was broken, leaving the two of you trying to catch your breath. "That was amazing," he whispered, touching his forehead to yours. "I love you, sweetheart."

"That kiss was miraculous," you added. "I love you too, Dean."

From the other room, Charlie yelled, "FINALLY!!" You and Dean burst out into laughter at her statement as she returned to the living room.

"Hey, Charlie? I um....don't think I'll be taking that road trip after all. But I will still see you off at the airport tomorrow," you agreed.

"I figured as much," she smirked. "And don't get too comfortable, Winchester. You pull a stunt like this again and I have to come out and fix it? I. will. end. you."

"Understood, but I promise, no more stunts like this. Not now that I have my girl," Dean replied, curling his arm around you and drawing you closer to his side.

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm going to bed, because I have an early flight tomorrow. Try to keep the noise down, huh?"

"I swear, only sleep. For tonight anyway," he grinned and waggled his eyebrows then held out his arm. "Ready, sweetheart?"

You playfully rolled your eyes as you hooked your arm around his. "Ready as I'll ever be. Follow me, my love."

When you reached the doorway to your room, Dean paused. "By the way, I'm sorry I forgot to say this earlier, but 'Happy Birthday, baby'," he remarked softly, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

Your hand cradled his jaw as you gave him a tender smile. "Best. Birthday. Ever."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags:

@winchest09 @deanwanddamons @janicho88 @yourelivingwrong @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @lyarr24 @hobby27 @jessica-noel94 @jensengirl83 @wayward-dreamer @idreamofplaid @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @winchesterprincessbride @ejlovespie @deandreamernp @emoryhemsworth @never--doubt @watermelonlipstick @makeadealwithdean @krazykelly @imherefordeanandbones @rooweighton @coleslibrary @soaringeag1e @sams-sass @phoenixisred @hintsofhoney

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

I have just had three wisdom teeth taken out this morning, do you have any food advice? If not can I get a chronic pain!reader?

I haven't been to a dentist since I was 6... so. Not really. Just try to stick to soft foods and avoid straws at all costs!

You watched the snow fall outside and tested your weight on your feet, wincing. Mentally taking stock of the aches and pains, rolling through the catalog for anything new or worse. Anything that will get better when you get moving. Anything that you're going to have to baby.

It seems like every day the list gets a little longer. The checklist takes longer. And you tamp down the terror that one day you're not going to be able to do things for yourself anymore. It doesn't help.

Today the pool. Tomorrow physical Therapy... It's a grind. It's a fucking slog. And you hate it. But, it's all you can do right now. You've had too many falls the last couple weeks. On ice, over your own feet, hell- once just standing still in the kitchen.

It's getting ridiculous.

And humiliating.

Not to mention the urgent care probably thinks the boys are beating you because you're covered in bruises all the fucking time. Which couldn't be further from the truth... they played rough with each other, they treated you like spun glass.

"You ready to go?" Wade asked, snorkel and flippers in one hand, grinning.

You look up, pushing hair out of your face and force a smile, "You don't have to go I'm just going to swim laps."

"I'm bored," he said, "And besides. Why would I pass up a front row seat to the hottest show in town?"

"I thought that was Logan working out."

"Either of you working out-"

"I'm taking you to therapy tomorrow," Logan added from the other room.

You sigh and heft yourself to your feet as you reach for your sweats. "So you're both afraid I just won't go."

"No," Wade said nodding yes.

"And," Logan said coming to stand on Wade's other side, "you hate it. And we want to make it less shitty."

"I don't know if having two literally perfect people watching me struggle will make it suck less," you snort, pulling on sweats.

"You swim like a fish," Logan pointed out. "I don't-"

"You have metal bones."

"And I look like-"

"Shut up," you and Logan chorus.

"If you say you're ugly, I swear to god Wade," you threaten, "I won't make you tacos this week."

"Pulling out the big guns before 9am?" he whistled. "Damn."

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter two : silent treatment (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 7.4k

summary : you decide to give your bodyguard the silent treatment after a disagreement

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Something is wrong. You bolt up from the pile of blankets that you call a bed and your eyes dart around the closet as you furrow your brow trying to discern why you feel so much different. As you stand and exit the closet, tugging on a rope that you know alerts Elaine and Lysa you realize what it is.

You’re excited. 

Everyday has been a slog since your arrival, just another day of aimlessly walking around and sitting mindlessly in the library but today you actually had an agenda. Even if you were to be accompanied by the abhorrent Mandalorian. You had only ever read about gardens, you obviously couldn't have one back on Hoth but you had always wanted to see one, if not have your own. But this was your home now, which made that your garden. You had a garden and today you were going to get to see it. And so, for the first time you summon Elaine and Lysa, instead of allowing them to arrive naturally as they always did. You stand at the mirror, eager to get dressed as the girls rush in, you can tell by the way that they stare at you that they don’t fully understand what's happening as they try to keep the surprise off their faces. Elaine speaks first as Lysa rushes off to the closet to find something for you to wear today.

“Good morning ma’am… you’re up rather early?” The way her voice pitches up makes it come off as a question but you just nod as you begin to undress, watching in the mirror as Lysa brings out a blue gown and you quickly turn around.

“No.” Both girls stare at you with wide eyes and then look at each other as you speak. “I want to wear something else, I’m sick of blue.” Lysa nervously rushes back into the closet but you can see a smile forming on Elaine's face. 

“Seems like someone has finally found their voice.” As Elaine speaks she dresses you in your undergarments. 

“One can only wear blue so many days in a row.” You brush a strand of hair behind your ear as you can see Elaine walking out holding a pale yellow dress in the reflection of the mirror, holding it up for approval. “That will do nicely.” That seems to relax her a bit as they begin to slip it on to you, lacing the back of it up tightly before sitting you down to do your hair and makeup but you gently wave their hands away. 

“Ma’am? Is everything okay?” Elaine says as she holds her hands up, waiting to see what will happen next but Lysa takes a step back as she drops her hands as if she’s been burned and you quickly turn to reassure her. 

“Everything is perfect, I didn’t mean to startle you, I just… I want to do it myself today. You two can have the rest of the morning off… thank you.” You turn back to stare at yourself in the mirror, the reflection actually looks familiar with your hair down like this, the lurid makeup they usually do you up in absent. 

“Ma’am this is rather unorthodox…” Elaine says but she can’t seem to shake the smile from her face. “But if you insist.”

“I do. Insist.” Your lips are also curling into a grin that you’re desperately fighting off as you look at Elaine in the reflection of the mirror, meeting her gaze. “Take the rest of the morning off, I’ll see you in the evening.” Both girls nod as they take their leave, Lysa finds green slippers and puts them on you before darting out of the room. You start to run a brush through your hair and you shout one last thing over to them before the door closes. “Oh! And please inform Leo that I’ll be skipping breakfast, I have other matters to attend to.” Elaine turns to cock an eyebrow at you but nods as she closes the door. 

You don’t bother holding back the grin now as you comb your hair, wanting to leave it down but you’re not sure if that’s proper for royalty so you decide against it, pinning it up loosely and donning a thin band of a tiara to hold it all in place. Now comes an issue you had not accounted for. Do you put on makeup? The girls always put makeup on you, especially on nights where you have dinner with the prince but now that it’s a choice you wonder if it would be weird. It’s not like you’d be dolling yourself up for the Mandalorian, but he really is the only person you see all day, other than Leo, who you only saw when you needed something. 

Well this was starting to ruin your good mood. Would it be weird if you didn’t wear makeup? It might be since up until today every time he’s seen you you’ve been wearing a mountain of it. Maker, what if he doesn’t even recognize you. No, that's stupid of course he’ll recognize you, he spends everyday with you. You can put on makeup, it isn’t weird. You’d just be putting it on for yourself, not him, it isn’t weird to want to look nice for yourself. But he’s a prick. An observant prick. What if he says something about it? That’s stupid why would he say something, you always wear makeup, it would be odd if you didn’t wear it. What if he’s already out there? What if he saw Elaine and Lysa leave? Would he assume you did your makeup yourself? Shit, why hadn’t you asked if he was waiting? Since when do you care what he thinks? When did this fucker get in your head like this? They’ve done your makeup rather garishly every day you’ve spent with the Mandalorian, so you decide to do it, just something simple, not the typical caked on look they give you, just something around your eyes to make them pop. You settle on green, subtle green eyeliner. 

You look ridiculous. He’s going to laugh at you.

You don’t care what he thinks, yet you find yourself reaching into the vanity to find a cloth to wipe the makeup from your face, maybe you should just tell him you don’t feel well and you want to stay in your room today. Gods when did he get in your head like this, one stupid little conversation and suddenly you couldn’t escape him, that stupid, arrogant, cocky, pompous, conceited, ill-mannered, son of a-

“Why are you taking so long?” You drop the cloth before you can clean your face as you catch a glint of silver in the mirror. 

“What is wrong with you!?” You clutch your chest as you turn around to scowl at the Mandalorian. “If you don’t stop scaring me I’m going to put bells on you.” He leans back against your bedpost and crosses his arms.

“Your ladies-in-waiting. They left half an hour ago and you didn’t come out, I thought you might be in danger.” He shrugs as if that justifies him sneaking into your room. Had you really been sitting here that long?

“Why didn’t you knock? For Makers sake, I could have been changing.” You squint at him angrily as you stand, facing him as you match his stance. Something tells you that the way you do it is less intimidating. 

“If I knocked I would have alerted any potential intruders.” 

“You’ve been outside the door this entire time and we’re on the fourth floor.” He shrugs again.

“I couldn’t take that chance. Now are you ready or not?” He stands up straighter and gestures towards the door. 

“Yes. These gardens better be worth it, I have high expectations.” You frowned as you made a beeline for the door, you could feel him following close on your heels. Once in the hall he once again stood beside you, not behind you, you bit back a smile. He takes a slight lead and you follow him through  the maze of halls. 

You want to talk. Now that you’ve had a taste of any sort of companionship you’re ravenous for it. Even if it is with someone as impolite as him, so you keep it light. 

“So… where are the gardens located?” 

“If I tell you, are you going to try and run off without me?” 

“If I tried you would be right behind me anyways so what would be the point?” You grin in earnest as you hear him exhale sharply through his nose. 

“You know about the forest that surrounds the castle?” 

“Yes I know that the castle that I live in is surrounded by trees.” You know he doesn’t see it but you roll your eyes anyway. 

“Forgive me, princess.” Your heart skips a beat, he actually sounds sort of sweet… “You got lost trying to find the fresher three days ago, so forgive me if I assume you know nothing about the grounds.” And there it is. 

“Do you spend all your free time coming up with snarky remarks? Is that what you do when you aren’t actively stalking me?” That gets a scoff from him.

“It isn’t stalking if it’s my job.I swore to keep you from harm and my word is very dear to me.” 

“You’re avoiding the question.” 

“Have you considered that I’m just smarter than you? That I just have a quicker wit?” Gods, you want to rip out the stupid modulator that he speaks through. It has to be altering his voice, no one's voice is always that low and steady. You feel as if the baritone of it soaks through your skin into your bones. 

“Impossible. The only explanation is that you must be dedicating several hours a day to forming new creative insults for me.” You let your fingertips trace the stone bricks as the two of you descend a staircase. He shakes his head no.

“I don’t have the kind of free time for that. You’re a full time job, sarad'ika.” 

Dead stop.

“What the hell did you just call me?” 

He doesn’t respond, actually it looks like he’s freezing up. He better not be laughing under that tin can with his modulator silenced again.

“You can’t just start slandering me in other languages, Mando.” You can’t keep the smile off your face as you reach forward to gently brush your hand against the Beskar pauldron closest to you. You mean it as nothing more than a comforting gesture but he instantaneously recoils from it, you’re surprised he even felt it through the steel and fabric but he takes a sudden step back and doesn’t mute his modulator fast enough for you to miss the beginning of a sharp inhale. There’s a beat of silence where you can feel your heart racing, why did it always get so hot in this stupid castle at the most inconvenient times. 

“My apologies, princess.” He straightens up and starts descending the stairs again, much more rigid than before. 

“Oh come on you can’t just do that.” You have to hike up your skirt to keep up with him now.

“Do what?” His stride doesn’t waver. You have to take two steps at a time to match his pace. 

“Say something and not tell me what it means!” 

“Drop it, princess.” Gods, you hate the way he says it. He makes it so easy to forget that it’s a label, not an endearment. You can’t stop the words that fall from your lips on instinct. 

“Don’t call me that.” 

He turns sharply, doing a swift 180, and you slam into his chest plate but manage to keep your footing. You’re higher on the stairs then him, making you face to face now. Well, face to helmet. 

“You are a princess, princess. I will refer to you as your title, nothing else. There is nothing else that I should be calling you.”

He called you sarad'ika. 

You scowl at him and you’re sure he’s scowling back at you. You’re not sure how long you stand like that, two statues on the staircase until finally you make the first move, brushing past him as you continue down the stairs until you reach a door, you wish you had paid more attention to where he was taking you because you’re caught off guard by the immediate exit from the stone walls of the keep. You hadn’t stepped foot outside the castle walls since you had first entered them.

It took you a second to adjust to the light as you held your hand up to shield your eyes. Once you've finally settled you take another step before you have to cover your eyes again. “Maker!” You take a step back as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. You can feel him grab your shoulder gently.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Genuine concern. You’re taken aback by it, he’s never sounded anything but sarcastic and stoic up until just now. You open your eyes to stare into the thin black line in the Beskar. His hand jostles you slightly and you suddenly remember to breathe. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?” You can physically feel the worry coming off of him, both of his hands gripping your shoulders now. 

“I just- I’m okay… it’s just- the- the reflection…” You say it softly and feel his hand drop and he lets out a sigh. “The sun on your armor just caught me off guard…” He turns around and starts walking again and you can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of you, making him stop dead in his tracks. 

“It’s not funny.” His tone has returned to its cold stoic nature but you can’t stop laughing.

“Oh come on…” You make your way over to him, still trembling with laughter. “You’re so sparkly, it caught me off guard.”

“I was seriously worried about you. You do understand that my entire job is to keep you safe right?” He takes long strides and once again you can barely keep up as you follow him to a trail at the edge of the forest that surrounds the keep. You take deep breaths, trying desperately to stop the laughter as you grab his arm. He tenses the moment you make contact with him but at least he doesn’t draw back this time. He won’t look at you, his helmet turned slightly to the right. 

“Hey, I’m sorry.” You mean it but you can’t fight the smile on your face as you hold the fabric between his pauldron and his bracer. “It’s kind of nice, you know, to know you are capable of human emotions.” You don’t realize that your thumb is rubbing small comforting circles into his sleeve, your gaze softening. “I was starting to think you were just a very sarcastic droid.” That makes him look at you.

“I am not a droid.” 

Yikes. Tough crowd.

He says it with such sternness that you don’t follow it up with a joke, you drop your hand from his arm and just stare into the visor. 

You bring your hand up to comfort him again.

“Hey I’m sor-”

“Don’t” There’s that word again, only this time he’s so harsh with it. You take a step back. 

“Well I hardly think this is fair.”

“Excuse me?” He tilts the helmet slightly at you, the annoyance in his voice is still palpable. 

“We have had two conversations since the day I met you and you spent most of those conversations making fun of me and suddenly you get all stiff and upset just because I made one joke at your expense, a joke that might I add wasn’t even all that mean, and you get all short with me? That’s not fair.” He doesn’t speak, you can feel the sharpness of his gaze even through the visor. 

But he doesn’t have a retort, he just scoffs. 

Kriff. 

You had to say something, because now you’re both just standing here on this trail in utter silence. Come on, think, you can’t let one awkward moment ruin this. You can’t have things be weird between you and the only person who will talk to you in this entire fucking castle. Gods, you can’t stand him but he’s company. So, you say the first thing that comes to mind, like an idiot. 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

“What?” His voice is still tinged with the remains of his anger.

Well now he’s just being unkind for no reason, you apologized, or at least tried to before he so rudely interrupted you. Or maybe you should have chosen a less stupid question but it was too late to be thinking thoughts like that. 

“You know what, nevermind. Go back to the castle, I’ll find the garden myself.” You shove past him, marching down the trail through the trees. Where was this coming from? Why has he suddenly out of nowhere gotten so cold? Whatever, he can go sulk somewhere else. You just wanted to see the gardens and you’re not going to let him ruin your entire day before it’s even started. You can hear him groan as he starts to follow. Of course he isn’t going to listen to you, you turn on your heel to face him. “Stop it.”

“You know I can’t.” Of course he doesn’t sound apologetic, but at least he doesn't sound angry anymore.

“I am ordering you to stop.”

“You don’t have the auth-”

“I don’t care. I don’t care if I do not have the authority to tell you to stop, you will stop, go back to the castle. Now, Mando.” You know he won’t but you’re getting desperate, you don’t care because at this point if you have to feel alone, you want to actually be alone. 

“No.” 

There it is. You knew that you weren’t friends, afterall how could you be, you don’t know each other in the slightest. But a small part of you thought that maybe he respected you, at least respected you enough to not treat you like everyone else does. Like they’re afraid of you, or like you are nothing more than an extension of your husband. Yet here he is acting on your husband's authority, with no one around, just the two of you. In your loneliness you had briefly let yourself get sucked into a reality where the Mandalorian was someone who you could talk to, even if it was only to argue, arguing was so much better then the nothingness that was consuming your bland life, the little feud that the two of you had built up through what short conversations you had managed was all you had. But of course he had to go and ruin it, you hadn’t wanted a friend, you had just wanted someone to talk to. 

You hate him. For getting your hopes up. You hate your husband. For marrying you in the first place. You just want to go home, real home, Hoth, not this unfamiliar stupidly hot planet. It’s all starting to crash down on you. You haven’t cried since the day you found out you were arranged to be married but out of nowhere it was starting to hit you like a ton of bricks. Your eyes shot daggers at the Mandalorian. You wanted to scream at him, you wanted to stomp your foot and throw a tantrum because in an instant he had ruined what had the potential to be your first good day in weeks, and he had done it within the first 30 minutes of being in your presence. But why give him the satisfaction? Especially if he was only doing all this to be cruel. You had done nothing wrong after all, he was the one who had gotten all uppity out of nowhere and for seemingly no reason. 

“Fine.” At least your voice doesn’t crack.

“Fine?” He sounds truly surprised by the lack of explosion after your minutes of brooding. Maybe he was doing this all because he was bored, afterall he was probably just as alone as you were. But you had thought that maybe you were starting to be alone, together. 

“Fine. You are right. I do not have the authority to dismiss you, I would like to return to my chambers.” He takes a step forward. You can’t look at him anymore. 

“Oh come on, you can’t be ser-”

“Don’t.” You hope it hurts. 

Having the word thrown back in his face with as much venom as you can muster, as you once again shove past him and follow the trail until you are out of the forest and making your way back to the castle. He doesn’t try to stop you, he doesn’t even speak. He just returns to the way he’s always been, deadly quiet, and always just out of sight. Just out of reach. Neither of you speaks as you make your way up the several flights of stairs, in your rage you didn’t realize you were lost until it was too late. 

Stupid enormous castle. Stupid maze of halls. Stupid husband who made this stupid place your home. Stupid Mandalorian. 

You know he knows that you’re lost but he doesn’t speak. Finally you just sit against a wall, the Mandalorian a few steps back, watching you.

“Leodall!” You say it loudly in the noiseless hall, your voice bouncing off the walls. 

“Is that really necessary? If you’re lost I can take you back to your room.” His voice is dripping with annoyance at this point and all you do is glare at him until you see a familiar orange figure approaching.

“Yes princess, is everything well?” His brows furrowed as he sees you sitting on the floor, he goes to help you up but you wave him off, standing on your own. 

“It appears I need your help finding my chambers Leo.” You don’t acknowledge the Mandalorian, keeping your eyes trained on Leo. He on the other hand does toss a look at Mando, the confusion on his face is evident but he senses the tension and decides not to ask, leading you to your room. 

Maker, you hadn’t even been on the right floor. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you ma’am?” Leo asks as he steps into your room after you. 

“No Leo, that will be all, thank you.” He nods as he shuts the door, you see the glint of silver as he does. 

You collapse onto the bed, the real bed, not the one that you found so much more comfort in, kicking your shoes off you curl up into yourself and just lay there. The urge to cry has passed, now you just want solitude. 

You try not to wonder if he’s still out there. 

You don’t know how much time passes but eventually Elaine brings you dinner, Lysa is not with her. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen them separated. 

“They said you didn’t go to lunch ma’am, I thought you might be feeling ill.”

“No. Just tired I guess.” 

She doesn’t press further as she sets down the tray. This is why she’s your favorite. As she goes to leave, you sit up. 

“Is he still out there?” You whisper it, you already know the answer. And you also know he’s probably listening. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

That’s all you needed to know, you nod and she dismisses herself. 

✩

You hate him. 

You have nothing better to do now that you refuse to talk to him. So you hate him, that’s your new hobby. You’re on day three of your strike. You let Elaine and Lysa doll you up in blue gowns again and do you up with over the top makeup and you go back to the library. But you don’t pretend to read books anymore. Instead you sit in a reading nook you stumbled upon, it might be your new favorite spot in the entire castle. Even if you spend all of your time there brooding. You sit with your back to the window and you glare at the Mandalorian, all day. 

He just stands there. 

Sometimes the visor faces you, sometimes it doesn’t, sometimes if you stay long enough he’ll even pull up a chair. You just watch him. And think. 

The first day was spent plotting, mostly. You don’t have a good enough grasp on his abilities to attack him head on. You know that his helmet can do a lot but you honestly have no idea anything past the fact that he can silence himself, it gives him advanced hearing capabilities, and you have to assume night vision because of that night where he found you in the library. And of course there was the lingering issue of him being an ex-bounty hunter. 

So no. No attacking head on.

All this scheming made you realize how embarrassingly little you actually know about him. 

You seriously doubt you could sneak up on him. His neck wasn’t armored but it was covered in layers of fabric. It would be embarrassing if you tried to stab him and got tangled up in his cape. And obviously you didn’t want to kill him. You just… well you don’t really know what the goal is now. Honestly you feel a bit silly over this whole thing. You might have overreacted but he had been impolite to say the least, and you had nothing better to do so why not just be mad. 

Maybe you could ask Kodo to dismiss him. You never asked him for anything during your weekly dinners but you were his bride after all, maybe he would do that for you. Unless the Mandalorian was working directly with Kodo… you’d never considered that he might be reporting back to the prince with information about you.

You rule that possibility out. Kodo doesn’t care enough about you to do that. (You also rule out asking for Mando to be dismissed because as much as you despise him, you can’t bring yourself to do that. You desperately wish you could.)

New plan. Get away from him long enough to explore the gardens without him.

How hard could it be to find out where his quarters are located? Maybe you could ask Leo, would he even know? He has to live somewhere in the castle. There’s no way he could live anywhere else, he’s there day and night watching you… 

Does he even have quarters? He wore the same thing every day, at least it looked like he did, he certainly didn’t have a bad smell to him that would indicate he doesn’t change, although you had no idea what he smelled like, you suppose you had never thought about it. Why do you want to know what he smells like all of a sudden? Nevermind. He had to sleep, right? He wasn’t waiting outside your room the night you had snuck out to the library. If you could find out where his room was maybe you could lock him in… or you would just make him angry, he was so tall, and broad, and you couldn’t tell with all the layers but he seemed muscular, strong enough to break down a door certainly. 

You stare at where he’s sitting, he had pulled up a chair an hour ago and placed it across from your nook, both his legs firmly planted on the floor as you two engage in what might be your tenth staring contest of the day. You bet he could rip a door right off its hinges, he’d probably be outraged if you barricaded his door, he’d hunt you down for doing that. Of course he would know it was you, who else would try and lock him in his own chambers? You wonder what he would do if he caught you. Obviously he would catch you, if he had been a bounty hunter he would catch you with ease, he’d probably just go straight to the garden, knowing that’s where you would hide from him. He would probably be so furious with you that he’d probably throw caution to the wind, disregard the fact that you were royalty, disregard the fact that you were married to the prince, and just take you right there. 

Back to the castle.  

Back to your chambers. Take you back to your chambers. 

Gods it’s hot in this library… you took a book off the shelf just to fan yourself. 

Is he sweating under all that metal?

Stop it. 

You decided to plan more tomorrow. The heat was clearly having some sort of effect on your ability to think clearly.

But day two of your silent treatment came and you didn’t feel all that palpable rage anymore, you were just confused now. So you dedicated day two to figuring out what had happened. Why had things fallen apart so quickly?

It had all started when you made that droid comment. 

Or had it?

Now that you were thinking about it he had actually started to pull back when you’d been on the stair. He had called you that name. Kriff. What had it been? You should have written it down. It must have been pretty bad for it to make him so upset. But why would he be upset about something he said? He had said it so naturally, it clearly had just slipped out. You weren’t even sure what language it had been in. You could look, you were in a library after all, but it would be obvious to him what you were doing and you didn’t want to upset him further. 

What else had happened…?

Shit.

You had touched him, it hadn’t been anything more than a brief brush against his armor. Maybe that was considered offensive in his culture though, maybe you had crossed a line. Your stomach dropped but only for a moment as you remembered your first interaction, you had touched his armor quite a bit that night so that couldn’t be it. 

You hated riddles, and you were giving yourself a headache.

So you spent most of the second day rubbing your temples with your eyes closed. 

And now you’re here. Day three of your strike and you’ve already run out of things to be angry about so now you finally let your mind wander to the one thing you’ve been avoiding since you met him. 

What’s under the armor? 

Or more importantly, who is under the armor? In your previous brief conversations you hadn’t brought the helmet up, they’d been so short there was no way for it to come up naturally. (And honestly you assumed he was sick of being asked about it. Everybody probably asked about it.) For what little you knew about Mandalorians, you knew they didn’t take their helmets off. But he had to at some point right? He was human. Gods, now that you thought of it you never saw him eat or drink. 

You exhaled sharply through your nose as you imagined him drinking through a little straw inside the helmet. He turned in just the slightest towards you but kept his visor trained on a shelf of books that must have been pretty interesting to have been holding his attention for the last several hours. 

He was probably scowling, like, all the time. He probably had a permanent crease between his eyebrows. It would probably piss him off if you smoothed it out with your thumb. Of course that would be why you would do it. To piss him off. 

He had to be handsome. You despised the fact that he had to be handsome. He acted with an air of confidence that only extremely good looking people had. Of course he would be handsome, the gods could not be kind enough to make him ugly. You bet his features are sharp, just like his tongue. Stop. 

Don’t think about his tongue. 

You need to talk to Leo about implementing some sort of cooling system in this dreadfully balmy library.

Think about something else. His lips. That was innocent enough. You would wager that they were chapped, spending all that time inside steel, probably made his lips dry. He was probably always licking his lips. His bottom lip was probably always jutted out in a pout, he’s so stupidly moody. His tongue was probably always poking out slightly, wetting his stupidly plush bottom lip. 

Stop. 

Maker, it’s so warm in here, it’s a good thing you’re wearing such a dark shade of blue because you’re certainly sweating through your gown. Calm down. 

Teeth. Think about teeth. There’s nothing about teeth that should make your heart race, they’re just teeth. They’re probably straight and perfect. He acted so superior, the bastard would have perfect teeth. They’re probably just sharp enough to hurt if he were to bite you, why would he be biting you?

Stop.

When you get him all riled up and simmering he probably stands there all stupid with his mouth open just slightly. You can probably see his bottom teeth when he sits there with a dumb look on his face. You could probably get a better look at them if you pulled his bottom lip down with your thumb.

Stop.

Think about his eyes. Get away from his mouth entirely. His stare has to be as intense as his presence. He could probably lay waste to a bounty with one look if he would just take the helmet off. Nope. Actually, don’t think about how his eyes would feel on your face. Be thankful for the helmet. Just stop thinking about him. How dare he. He was probably doing this on purpose, getting in your head like this. Gods, you detest him. 

He’s probably brunette. He probably keeps it short because he can’t maintain it with the helmet and all. Why does that kind of bum you out? 

Stop.

You don’t care what his hair looks like. He probably had an unkept beard, he doesn’t have time to shave. It probably scratches you as it brushes against your skin. 

Nope. 

Stop. 

You stand up, you need to get out of this horrifically stuffy library. You don’t acknowledge him as you make your way towards the dining hall, you have dinner with Kodo tonight, best not be late to see your doting hubby. Especially if the reason you’re late is because you were off somewhere thinking about another man. You don’t hear him but you know Mando is behind you as you enter the dining room, you take pride in your ability to find it without having to call Leo. (It’s just down the hall from the library but to you it’s still an accomplishment.) Much to your chagrin Kodo is already seated. 

“Wife! Come, join me!” Oh he is already hammered, lucky you. 

You take your respective seat across from him and the Mandalorian takes his place a few steps behind your chair, his hands clasped in front of him. 

“Good evening husband, how has your day been?” You quickly begin to down your wine as he starts to speak, his hair is a mess, you spend nearly an hour getting ready every morning and he can’t even run a comb through his hair. Lovely. 

“Wonderful darling.” Why does he always have to look so satisfied with himself?

Dinner is long. And boring. At one point he starts talking about how unattractive he thinks one of his brother's wives is, laughing the entire time at some joke you don’t get regarding her appearance. You lazily take a bite of the unfamiliar vegetable on your plate as you try to tune him out. After your first day here you stopped questioning the food, it was always good so who cares what it is. He slams back another drink, a servant rushes over and fills his glance once more. He’s had so much to drink at this point you wonder how he’s still sitting upright. It’s quiet for a moment and you realize that he’s waiting for a response to something. Maker, you should have been paying attention. His gaze darkens as he lets out a tsk. 

“I had quite a pleasant time today out in the city.”

“Oh really? What did you do today my prince?”

“They had opened a new pleasure house in the city, and a few of my brothers and I visited for the grand opening.” He starts laughing, slamming his glass onto the table as he shakes with laughter. Your entire body went rigid. You knew he was probably visiting brothels, of course he was, but the way he threw it into your face with no regard for your feelings rattled you enough to make you just want to leave. You took another sip of wine. 

“Did you, my prince? And how was that?” You can feel the tension in the room, every servant is standing a bit straighter, their eyes all forward. 

“Just wonderful.” He clicks his tongue as he picks at his food with his hands. You don’t bother hiding the disgust on your face. He leers at you. “What? Are you displeased, wife? ” You suck in a breath through your teeth. 

“No, of course not, my prince.” You set your fork down, you’ve lost your appetite. 

“No, no, no, if you are unhappy, wife, I would love for you to speak up.” He’s snickering at this point, teetering drunkenly. You want to leave, you don’t like this. He had always been annoying at the worst of times, and dismissive, but now he was just belittling you. 

At least you finally had a valid reason to hate him. 

“I am fine.” You say it as steadily as you can manage. “Just tired.”

“Really? What have you done today that has left you so tired?” 

Gods, you just want to leave.

“I did quite a lot of reading today, my pri-” He bursts into laughter before you can even finish. Your face is starting to heat.

“Is that so? This is why I do not spend more time with you, my nervous mouse.” Gross, you hate that name. “You’re just so… bland.”

Ouch.

“Don’t you agree, mouse?” 

You know he wants you to answer, and something tells you that he won’t let you leave unless you do. So you swallow your pride. And you swallow the lump that is forming in your throat.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Maybe you should put him lower on your list than the Mandalorian.

“Yes. I am bland.”

He leans back in his chair with a predatory smile on his face, like he was the cat, and you were the mouse. The insignificant mouse. 

“That is all I wanted to hear, dear wife.” He flashes you a toothy grin, giving you a wave you know means you’re dismissed. And you stand, rushing out into the hall and storming off towards your chambers as briskly as possible. Feeling the tears that you’ve held in for three weeks now starting to prickle at the corners of your eyes. The Mandalorians pace never falters as he trails after you until you finally find your chambers, all on your own. You wish you were in the mood to appreciate such an accomplishment. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand as subtly as possible, your other hand opening the door, you only get the door open a few inches before it slams shut. You turn around in an instant to glare at him, The Mandalorian was looming over you, his hand just above your head, holding the door shut. You can’t do this right now. You know that the moment he starts whatever snarky comments he surely has about that dinner that you won’t be able to hold back the tears anymore. You can’t do anything other than squeeze your eyes shut to hold back the waterworks as you brace yourself for whatever he has to say. 

The familiar faint crackle of the modulator fills the air, suffocating you. 

“Are you okay?”

Oh. 

You open your eyes and he isn’t looming over you anymore, he’s just standing, notably a few steps back now. 

You wish you could stop what happened next, but it all finally happened. At long last, you cry. You finally break down, the weight of the world collapsing down on you. He doesn’t move, or speak, he just stares. Honestly you’re pretty sure you’ve caught him off guard. 

“No.” 

It’s all you can squeak out, you wish you didn’t sound so pathetic as you said it. 

“I just… I want to go home. I hate this entire stupid planet. I hate this confusing castle and now I hate my husband” Gods you need to stop talking, you’re starting to babble, but he doesn’t speak and you can’t stand the silence so you just keep going. “I didn’t want this. Any of this. I miss my brothers and sisters, I miss talking to people. I miss being alone.” You stare up at him now with big wet eyes, you detest the way your lip quivers. “Like, actually alone. Because now I feel alone, but I’m surrounded by people constantly… and that is a thousand times worse. And I feel like I’m going crazy, like, all the time. And I can’t even talk to you, you’re always there and I can’t say a word. I don’t want to have some deep and meaningful conversation with you for Makers sake. I just want to insult you because that is the only thing I can do when I am in your infuriating presence, and you are the only person I can insult who doesn’t suddenly start to fear for his livelihood.” You stare into that miserably cold visor. “And I don’t know what I did to deserve any of this.” You sniffle as you wipe your eyes again. 

You just stand there. You want him to say something, you don’t even want him to comfort you, you just want to hear the modulator crackle, anything. But he doesn’t. And you can’t take it. So you swing open your chamber doors and slam them shut behind you, make sure to lock them as loudly as possible. 

You cry. You spend the rest of the evening crying, once you get out of that terrible dress you lay on your nest of blankets in the closet in your undergarments, clutching a pillow as you fight back sobs. So much for the silent treatment you’d been giving him. Now he probably hates you even more, he probably thinks you are some whiney, spoiled, coddled little girl who can’t handle royal life. 

It’s the middle of the night and you’ve nearly wept yourself to sleep when you hear the faintest knock on your bedroom door. 

Your heart skips a beat.

It isn’t Elaine, or Lysa, or Leo. None of them ever bother you this late, and you certainly didn’t summon them. There’s only one person it could possibly be and your heart is nearly beating out of your chest. 

Why would he come here so late? 

You don’t know but a part of you that you are really struggling to rein in while you’re still in this sensitive state has an idea of what you want the reason to be. 

No.

You don’t want that. The part of you that is obviously going crazy, that’s who wants it. Not you. You weren’t allowing that part any control, not these last three weeks and certainly not now. Still, you don a robe and rush to the door. You take a moment for a deep breath before you slide the lock back and open the door, slowly, but surely. 

But he isn’t there. 

Stop feeling disappointed. 

You take a careful step out the door, the soft glow from your room illuminating the hall. You look down both passages, searching for that glimmer of silver but you never see it. As you dejectedly go to close the door something catches your eye. A book, on the ground just outside your door. You lean down to pick it up before quickly retreating into your room. You walk over to a lamp to get a clearer view of it. As your eyes scan the title a warmth spreads across your face. 

The Smitten Paladin. 

So he had gone back for them. 

You need to stop smiling. Obviously he did this because he feels bad for you. Or, if you’re lucky, it’s a peace offering. You return to the closet, bringing the lamp over to your makeshift bed as you open the cover, wanting to read a chapter before bed, but your eyes dart to something scrawled inside. The handwriting is small and neat as you read it.

"It’s green." 

You decide that the Mandalorian isn’t your least favorite person here anymore.

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[ageless-aislynn]

Title: “15 Minutes” (11/15) Author:  @ageless-aislynn​ Characters/fandom: Master Chief John-117/Reader, Halo the series Summary: John has learned something new that he'd like to show you… Series: How to date a Spartan (without even trying) Rating:  T (PG13) Length: 2,630 (this chapter, 27,487 total so far) Spoilers: Set in the Silver Timeline of Halo the series, not the games or novels. Though we began with the events of Halo 1x06, there will be no more show spoilers. We are still firmly seated in the AU Warthog, merrily driving out to places where there’s only a passing nod to canon. 😉 Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! 😉 A/N:  Text is both here in this post or available at AO3, however you like to read. It's, yet again, been awhile since the last update, sad to say. I've been slogging through writer's block, health issues and some kinda awful real life stress but I'm not giving up on this fic (or its sibling, "Recreation"). I'd like to say that the final chapters will be here very soon but, well… I've learned to not call my shots, lol. I will, however, do my best to get them here as soon as I can. If you read, I hope you enjoy! ⭐💖⭐

Taglist: @pinheadbanger​ @mysardencut​ @laurenstacy610​ @sporadicbelievernightmare​ @ultrablackwidower​ @bxmxtx​ @jellotherelol @mirandastuckinthe80s

If you would like to be tagged in my John/Reader fics, just let me know! I also write John/Kai, John/Cortana and Kai/male Reader, so I’m glad to tag you for whatever you’d like. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, also feel free to let me know, no harm, no foul. 😉 💖

Halo fic masterlist ⭐

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10

PT arrived bright and early and, while you continued to bring out every expletive in every language you knew, ultimately it seemed your left side was improving: more range of motion in your shoulder and more strength in your leg, though the healing fractures still ached. All together, though, it was a win, no matter that it left you sweating and shaking like you'd wrestled an Elite and lost spectacularly.

You'd just come out of the shower and put on a fresh set of clothes when the door chimed. To your surprise, you found Riz and Vannak in their civvies standing there. You knew Silver Team had been on stand-by for the past few days – John hadn't been able to join you for every meal, understandably, but he had been there every night. Sleeping curled up in his arms was a luxury you weren't sure how you were going to give up when the time came. Kai and her friend had visited but this was the first time the other two Spartans had.

"Please, come in," you said and they did.

"You need new curse words," Riz said seriously.

"We got here while you were doing your therapy," Vannak explained. "Didn't want to interrupt."

"You could hear me cussing out in the hall?" you asked.

"Superior Spartan hearing," she said, matter-of-fact. "I doubt anyone else could."

"Teach her the one," he urged in as animated a tone as you'd ever heard from him before. "You know, the good one."

Which is how you ended up getting a tongue-twisting word in Sangheili added to your arsenal.

"You say that to any Covenant species and it's guaranteed to send them into a rage," Riz said with a confident nod.

"Except the Unggoy," Vannak added with a sneer. "Little bastards couldn't give a shit. They'll try to kill you on principle."

"I'll make sure I'm on a bullhorn from far away, then," you said, biting the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. "Don't want to be in striking distance if I'm going to send them into a rage."

They thought that over.

"Chief won't appreciate us telling her to pick a fight with a Sangheili," she pointed out.

"Just use it on somebody you're pretty sure you can take in a fight," he told you.

"I'll keep that in mind," you said.

They made slightly stilted small talk for about 15 more minutes, then took their leave.

A rest seemed in order, so you propped up on the bed and checked the news. They were in the middle of reporting that they had yet to apprehend the man who had tried to smuggle the bomb back to FLEETCOM in the Warthog. It showed some stock images of the Pit before being damaged by the explosion and that got you to thinking…

There should be some sort of footage of the explosion, right?

But, after poking around on your padd for a little while, you hadn't found much beyond what apparently had been approved for public viewing.

"Would you like some help with that?"

Cortana's voice startled you.

"Oh, hey there," you said, thinking, Poor thing, she's got the most boring job in the world keeping an eye on me. I hope I get the chance to buy her a coffee or something after all is said and done. Then your brain tardily caught up with her words. "You mean you have footage from the explosion?"

"Yes, I do."

"And it's something I have clearance to see?"

"I have footage from the explosion," she repeated, her tone supremely innocent.

Before you could decide whether to ask to see it or not, the holo on the wall lit up. The security cams had caught the explosion from multiple angles. You winced as you saw a body – your body – fly out of the crane operator seat to disappear into a sea of smoke and debris.

A moment later, the view changed, the quality severely degrading. You squinted through the pixilation and haze and realized you were seeing from the point of view of the holo-emiter Cortana had contacted you from.

"Oh, shit," you muttered. The massive beam that had pinned you down should've killed you outright but you'd gotten supremely lucky in the way the rest of the building had fallen, providing just enough support to give you a tiny open space. But even without the sudden, helpful overlay that detailed out the edges of the debris through the smoke, you could see how quickly that respite was vanishing as the beam's weight bore it inexorably lower and lower.

You found yourself gasping for breath, cast back into that moment. The image changed abruptly. Trying to figure out where you were now viewing from helped to break you free of the encroaching panic attack.

Then it all made sense: you were looking at several officers, so covered in dirt and dust that you couldn't recognize their rank, much less determine their names. They also looked extremely short.

Before you even skimmed over the information feeding out in rapid-fire bursts, you knew that this was John's HUD after Silver Team had arrived back on site.

"John, get here now. The support beam is failing!"

Cortana's voice came through his helmet's comm. "There's no time," he said, interrupting the man as he was saying that they would have to wait for an excavation crew to arrive to safely dig you out.

He was running before the man could object. The feed cut back and forth from his HUD to the holo-emiter. This gave you an unexpected perspective on how efficiently Silver Team worked. They needed almost no words as they homed in on your location, grabbing, lifting, moving and supporting each part of the perilous structure as needed.

It was Vannak who caught the beam before it crushed you but it was John who lifted it off of you.

The holo-emiter's feed abruptly ended and you were back in John's HUD. Vannak and Kai caught another part of the crumbling wreckage, creating an opening for Riz to dig you out by hand.

You noted almost absently how steady John's vitals were. He was holding a building off of you as if it were nothing at all.

"Out," Riz announced and John carefully lowered the weight he'd been supporting.

When he turned, you saw Riz clearing the way for Kai, who was now the one carrying you. Vannak and John followed.

They emerged out of the wreckage and Kai went into the Spartan run, taking you directly into a Pelican where she turned you over to a team of medics. The Spartans were waved back and the ship launched.

"We'll catch the next one," Riz said.

"She'll be all right, Chief," Kai told him. "She's strong."

He nodded curtly, tracking the Pelican that was carrying you away.

And once it went out of sight, that was when his vitals spiked and his heart began to pound.

You were still thinking about what all you'd seen when the door chimed again. A glance at the chrono proved it was lunchtime. You opened the door and, indeed, the first thing you saw was a massive, covered tray that no doubt contained your meal. But it was John who was carrying it.

"Silver's on stand-by," he warned, "but I thought we might get a chance to eat together."

Since you weren't yet cleared to make the long walk down to the Mess, a table and pair of chairs had been set up across from the couch a few days ago. As soon as he'd placed the tray down, you practically tackled him.

"Permission to hug the Master Chief?" you asked well after the fact, your voice muffled into his chest.

He gently returned the embrace. "Always granted."

You found yourself holding onto him a little bit longer than usual.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I saw the footage from the Pit," you said, resting your cheek against him. "I already knew I was lucky to get out of there but really seeing it? I… It makes me appreciate being here."

He paused for long enough that you looked up at him, finding him gazing over your head as if hearing something over a comm. Then he turned his attention back down to you, brow furrowing. "She shouldn't have shown you that footage and upset you."

"Cortana? No, I'm glad she did. It happened to me, after all." You put your face against him again and squeezed him once more around his waist. "You held a building off of me, John."

He made a move as if about to pick you up, then thought better of it and knelt instead to bring you more on a level together. "I'd hold a million buildings off of you, don't you know that?" he said, cupping your face. "Just… try not to be under any more falling buildings, hm?"

"I'll certainly do my best," you swore and kissed his palm.

The look in his eyes altered, grew both darker and softer at the same time. When you leaned towards him, he met you halfway.

He started carefully, like he did everything with you, but soon the kiss intensified, deepened, and his hands skimmed from the crown of your head down your back as if he wanted to map every line, curve and angle you possessed.

And then your stomach growled, loudly and unmistakably, and you muttered your newly-learned curse word.

He leaned back to look at you, amusement tugging insistently at his mouth. "That one's Vannak's favorite. He and Riz talked about coming to see you today. I'm assuming they did?"

"They did," you said, then winced as your stomach grumbled something awfully close to a repeat of the Sangheili curse word.

"Why don't we eat," he said, completely surrendering to the smile, "and you can tell me all about it."

Happily, he didn't get called away and you were able to finish your meal together in peace.

"Could I show you something I recently learned?" he asked as you stood from the table.

"As long as it doesn't involve throwing me around the room," you teased.

"Oh, I'll save that until you're all healed up," he murmured, then winked.

You'd like to think you laughed but no, that was a full-fledged giggle. "So, what did you learn?"

"Therapeutic massage," he said, flexing his fingers. "It's supposed to promote healing and relaxation. Want to give it a try?"

"Absolutely," you said. "Where do you want me at?"

"On the footstool, if that's okay?"

"Sure."

The wide, plush, rainbow-colored bit of furniture was another recent addition to the room, added because John wanted you to have the option to put your feet up. Kai had told you that, as soon as you were healthy again, she was going to high-five you for the color choice.

While his back was turned as he adjusted the stool the way he wanted it in front of the couch, you took your shirt off and tossed it haphazardly towards the bed.

He sat, a leg on either side of the stool, and looked up at you, clearly about to say something. But then his expression went thunderstruck and the words never emerged.

You had the same UNSC sports bra that he had to have seen other marines wearing in the gym a thousand times. You'd spotted Kai and Riz in them before, so it shouldn't have been that shocking.

"This all right?" you asked.

"Uh-huh. Yeah. Yes." Every affirmative had its own completely separate inflection, from stunned to wonderment to Wait, don't put the shirt back on.

You turned away, hiding your grin as you sat down where directed. Considering that you were hardly in top fighting form at the moment, his reaction was a very nice little ego boost.

His hands settled gently against your back, fingers curling over your shoulders. "If I use too much pressure or there's pain, tell me right away. Is there anything I should definitely avoid?"

"Can't raise the arm like I should" –you gave a roll of your left shoulder– "but it's already much better than it was."

"Copy that, no raising the arm. Anything else?"

No matter how battered and bruised you felt, there was no way you were going to miss this. "I'll let you know," you promised.

"Okay," he said and his hands glided up to your neck, then out, following the lines of the trapezius on both sides. The heels of his palms followed your spine down in a feathery touch, then spread out along your lats like he was smoothing wrinkles out of them before skimming down your obliques to your hips.

He returned to your shoulders again and very, very carefully kneaded into the tightness there. You did your best not to flinch when he hit a particularly sore spot but he jerked back as if you'd screamed.

"It's fine," you said quickly, afraid he was about to end up perched on the back of the couch like a very large, traumatized cat. "This is the only way to get rid of it. Just got to work it out."

His hands settled cautiously on your shoulders once more.

"You're doing great," you assured him, patting his knees on either side of you encouragingly, and his thumbs drew circles over the painful places as if he were trying not to fracture a thin sheet of glass.

The knots relaxed and you exhaled in the closest thing to sheer bliss you'd experienced in a long while. The warmth and gentle pressure had you melting back into him, your head lolling a bit, your eyelids fluttering shut and—

The next thing you knew, you were waking up. "Oh come on, I didn't want to sleep through all the good parts," you mumbled.

John's chuckle rumbled beneath your ear. He had pulled you back onto his lap on your right side, cradled comfortably against his chest. One hand was gently rubbing your back while the other covered the hand you had fisted into his shirt.

"I'm going to take this as a compliment to my therapeutic massage skills," he said.

"And you absolutely should." You raised your head to look at him. "Maybe next time I can even stay conscious long enough to really appreciate said skills. If there is, you know, a next time."

"There will most definitely be a next time," he swore and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I still owe you a proper back scratching."

"And I am absolutely going to collect on that," he returned, his tone unexpectedly husky.

You smiled, straightening up to kiss him. He pulled you closer, then paused and sighed against your mouth.

"I've got to go," he said resolutely right before his wristband chirped.

You looked for a way to roll off of him that wouldn't aggravate your shoulder – or potentially crush any of his, ahem, important Spartan equipment – but he scooped you up bridal style and stood as if you weighed nothing at all.

"I'll meet you for dinner if we're back soon enough," he promised and gave you one more tender kiss then placed you onto the couch. Before he went through the door, he paused, looking back like he was memorizing this moment, then he took a breath and was gone.

It was nearly dinner time when the door chime rang and you went to answer it with as much of a hopeful spring in your step as you could manage. However, this time, it wasn't John holding a tray with your evening meal on it.

"Dr. Keyes," you said in surprise, snapping a salute.

She said your rank and last name. "May I come in? We need to talk."

[sunny374940]

Love is stored in the hat

Hello yes I am back with another piece of domestic fluff with Emmrich and Rook. This time there is snow and knitted hats. 1.2k words.

................

Rook came down into the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. It was already light outside, made all the brighter by the snow that fell in the night. Rook looked out of the window blearily and said: “Ugh,” with pronounced disgust.

"I find the snow rather beautiful,” said Emmrich from his seat at the kitchen table. “Where is this distaste for the beauty of nature coming from, I wonder?”

“It's coming from the five inches of the beauty of nature I'm going to have to shovel off of the path to the house,” grumbled Rook. “Neve and Lucanis are coming along later in today, remember? I don't want them slogging through the snow with the baby.”

“Oh, of course!” Emmrich clapped his hands in excitement. “I was so caught up in admiring the view that I forgot they are coming today. How I’m looking forward to meeting the little one!”

“Yeah,” Rook smiled softly. “So I’m heading out, gotta get it over with.” He turned to get himself ready to go outside.

“Rook, wait!” Emmrich called, “I have something for you before you go out to brave the elements.”

“I'm just shovelling snow, not going out in a blizzard,” Rook chuckled, but waited for Emmrich to cross the hallway and enter his study.

“Just a moment, my dear, I promise you will find this handy,” said Emmrich while rummaging through a drawer.

“Now where did I-” he muttered under his breath. “Aha! There it is!” he said triumphantly as he pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper.

“I meant to save this for your birthday, but with the snow coming early I think it's better I give it to you now,” he said, proffering it to Rook. “I know how you hate the cold, so I thought this would make our first winter here a bit easier.”

Rook took the package from Emmrich's outstretched hands, brushing a thumb against the back of Emmrich's hand in thanks. He opened the package and there sat a knitted hat and gloves, both in a blue the shade of the sky on a frosty day. He looked at Emmrich in wonder.

“You made these?”

“Yes, it is rather obvious, isn't it?” said Emmrich, a blush creeping onto his cheekbones.

“I am not as skilled at knitting as I would like. See, Lucanis gave me some pointers and then Harding's mother lent me an amazingly detailed volume on knitting just about anything, but the instructions proved rather more complicated than I anticipated and-”

Rook interrupted him with a light touch to his forearm. “No, Emmrich, they’re beautiful! Thank you, really. I just didn't expect the necromancer and alchemist to also knit,” he grinned teasingly.

Rook took the hat out to admire it properly. The wool was soft under his fingers and the care that went into making the hat made his heart stutter. “Did you learn to knit just to make these for me?”

"Well, I did try to procure a hat for you by means that didn't involve nearly taking my eye out with a knitting needle, but I couldn't find anything good enough. And then I saw this yarn and it was just the right shade for you, so I had no choice, really.”

“That explains why I had to untangle Manfred from a string that was exactly this colour the other day,” chuckled Rook.

Emmrich pinched the bridge of his nose. “I knew Manfred must have made off with some of the yarn. He was so interested in the process of knitting and kept trying to take the yarn when he thought I wasn't looking.”

“I suppose you weren't looking all that well,” Rook laughed. “He had a whole tangle of it on his forearm, I guess he was trying to do it like you. Kept saying purr purr, not sure what that was about.”

Emmrich rolled his eyes fondly. “I suspect he heard me talking to myself while I was working, he probably meant to say purl. His enunciation still needs some work, I must say.”

Rook put the hat on and turned to look at himself in the hallway mirror. “Wow, it looks really good, Emmrich. I love it. And you. But that goes without saying, I guess.”

He turned back to Emmrich to give him a peck on the cheek.

“I never tire of hearing it, my love. You look beautiful. The blue really brings out your eyes,” Emmrich said with a warm smile.

“And now I must go, pray for my safe return,” said Rook, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead theatrically.

“Your wish is my command. I shall also make you tea to battle the demons of cold,” Emmrich replied with a bow and a press of his lips to the back of Rook’s hand.

“Don’t forget your gloves, dearest,” he said as he handed them to Rook.

Rook put the gloves on and wiggled his fingers at Emmrich, then walked outside to get a damn shovel.

After an hour, during which Emmrich heard lots of scraping and the occasional curse coming from wherever Rook was attacking the heaps of snow, Rook came back through the front door, stomping the last of the snow off his boots. His cheeks were red from the cold and his teeth were chattering.

“Hate the fucking snow,” he mumbled through the shivers.

“Come, darling, sit by the fire,” said Emmrich as he led Rook to an armchair in their living room. There was a blanket ready and a steaming mug of tea was sitting on the coffee table alongside some cookies.

Rook gratefully sank into the armchair and allowed himself to be fussed over. The mug of tea was placed in his hands and he took a sip. The tea was just the way he liked it, black with a generous amount of honey and he felt himself relaxing under Emmrich's care.

“Really, dear, you should wrap up better next time, you are freezing cold,” said Emmrich worriedly. “Or maybe we could ask Manfred to assist you, so you could get it done faster-”

Rook interrupted him with a laugh. “There's no way I'm letting Manfred ‘assist me’ with shovelling snow. He will make snow angels, then he'll get damp and you know he creaks when he gets damp.” Rook shuddered.

“I’ve never heard a worse sound and I won’t be causing it on purpose. And before you say anything, no, I’m not letting you help me. Who would make me tea? And hats?”

He looked up at Emmrich through his lashes and added with a coy smile: “And who would kiss me after I come back home to help me warm up?”

Emmrich brought up a hand to caress Rook’s cheek, then drew closer to place a kiss on his forehead. Rook sighed happily and leaned into the touch.

“Oh? If you need warming up so badly, I have read some amazing things about sharing body heat,” said Emmrich with a quirk of his lips. “Care to test if the theories are sound, darling?”

Emmrich extended his hand to Rook, as if to only innocently help him up from the chair, but there was desire burning in his eyes.

Heat shot down to Rook's core and he found himself suddenly very uninterested in his tea.

“I would like that very much, vhenan,” he said as he took the offered hand and allowed himself to be led to the bedroom.

[welcometogrouchland]

Batman #149 by chip zdarsky is mostly unremarkable, but I'm really fascinated by how it makes a great case for 'good' endings not saving 'bad' stories*. Because there's a lot of interesting concepts in this issue (bruce having to deal with his rapidly aging and decaying clone making him think about his own life, re-establishing a 'nest' so to speak for his family after pushing them away, etc) but bc of the OOC slog that came before it, almost every moment w/ the batfamily comes off as unearned and disingenuous imo.

Like, everything with Damian is the perfect example in this. Because in isolation it's...fine. admittedly it's a missed opportunity to not go deeper into how Damian would feel about a clone of his dad who tried to kill considering Damian's relationships with clones of himself (the heretic rejects and respawn) or with former enemies who wanted him dead but who were manipulated and/or brainwashed (like suren and maya).

Zdarsky doesn't go into any of this but you could maybe excuse it as the issue not being about Damian. However, coupled with the previous bizarre characterizations of Damian in 147 and 148, it ends up not being fine- instead it starts to feel...icky how Damian (who, despite often being drawn and written as white, will never have his connection to the non-white al ghuls forgotten and will always be effected by racism even when not portrayed as a poc) is constantly written as overly violent, uncaring and narrow minded in this run. Coupled w/ trying to recanonize the morrison origin for Damian it's like. OH this is badly written and laden with subtle bigotry, sick**

That's me going into detail on it with Damian but it's applicable to other things in this issue- the way Cass, Steph and Duke have all been ignored or turned into jobbers makes their inclusion in the 'family' here feel hollow instead of satisfying. Bruce proclaiming that Zur was still a part of him and he needs to accept responsibility for his actions (when it means taking in clone son) wrings hollow when just last issue zdarsky was bending over backwards to separate Bruce and Zur bc otherwise the Jason thing would get really awkward. Ends are achieved through means that feel hollow or strange. I'm at my destination but damn why'd the bus have to do all that???

I only really have opinions on this latest arc of zdarskys Batman bc it's the one I've read the closest (bc I'm a hater, masochist and avid follower of even the bad damian storylines) but it's not saying great things.

Bc zdarsky can do one thing good in this book, and it's write Bruce and Tim. And yet this entire story, whether of his own volition or editorial mandate, includes other characters who aren't Bruce and Tim, the fabric starts to unravel in very telling ways.

(p.s, I think pennyworth manor is an interesting idea but I feel like in execution it's just gonna be 'bruce living in a house haunted by the memory of the people he couldn't save' but with a different dead guy this time. Illusion of change and whatnot)

*whether or not the ending is good is up to you ofc, as is your opinion on the proceeding arc! I saw some ppl complain that the ending was too "WFA" for them, which I get even if I dont think it'll literally be the same premise. If anything it's probably a lead into the new tec run. Likewise many ppl who aren't in the weeds of Damian and Jason characterization liked the previous arc! But I have my opinions and rest my case before the bench

**disclaimer, I'm white and portrayals of bigotry in comics are complicated and subjective, but I am basing my point here off what other poc comic fans on socmed have been saying about 149. Also the "sick" is sarcasm incase that wasn't obvious

[justjudethoughts]

My main take away from being an English major is that you aren't "too dumb" to read xyz, you just aren't there yet. Until two months ago, I thought I was incapable of reading Jane Austen. I tried to read Pride and Prejudice years ago, and genuinely simply did not understand. I was upset about it, too, because everyone else seemed to be able to read her books. So I gave up, and just assumed she was a level of literature I couldn't reach.

Fast forward to four years of being an English Major— after slogging through Shakespeare, Dante, Proust, and Henry James (all four of whom I seriously did not comprehend) and countless other authors (some easier than Austen, some harder) I finally was assigned Jane Austen again. I read Mansfield Park and I understood it. What's more is I loved it. Not because I had forced myself to read Jane Austen over and over again until I could, but because I had stretched my comprehension in other areas. I had read books that were easier than Austen, but still challenging. I had tried (and often, failed) to understand other books that were harder, and while I am still utterly lost among the stanzas of The Bard, I've caught up to Jane Austen.

Because it's okay to read something and not understand it.

It's okay to take a step down to an easier book, because if you keep at it, you'll get better.

Nobody who is training to run a marathon starts by running a marathon a day. You start smaller. You build up.

You can do that with reading, too.

You're not stupid. You're just not there yet. And that's okay.

[luckbealincoln]

Best Kept Secret

chapter two : silent treatment

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 7.4k

summary : you decide to give your bodyguard the silent treatment after a disagreement

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy

Something is wrong. You bolt up from the pile of blankets that you call a bed and your eyes dart around the closet as you furrow your brow trying to discern why you feel so much different. As you stand and exit the closet, tugging on a rope that you know alerts Elaine and Lysa you realize what it is.

You’re excited. 

Everyday has been a slog since your arrival, just another day of aimlessly walking around and sitting mindlessly in the library but today you actually had an agenda. Even if you were to be accompanied by the abhorrent Mandalorian. You had only ever read about gardens, you obviously couldn't have one back on Hoth but you had always wanted to see one, if not have your own. But this was your home now, which made that your garden. You had a garden and today you were going to get to see it. And so, for the first time you summon Elaine and Lysa, instead of allowing them to arrive naturally as they always did. You stand at the mirror, eager to get dressed as the girls rush in, you can tell by the way that they stare at you that they don’t fully understand what's happening as they try to keep the surprise off their faces. Elaine speaks first as Lysa rushes off to the closet to find something for you to wear today.

“Good morning ma’am… you’re up rather early?” The way her voice pitches up makes it come off as a question but you just nod as you begin to undress, watching in the mirror as Lysa brings out a blue gown and you quickly turn around.

“No.” Both girls stare at you with wide eyes and then look at each other as you speak. “I want to wear something else, I’m sick of blue.” Lysa nervously rushes back into the closet but you can see a smile forming on Elaine's face. 

“Seems like someone has finally found their voice.” As Elaine speaks she dresses you in your undergarments. 

“One can only wear blue so many days in a row.” You brush a strand of hair behind your ear as you can see Elaine walking out holding a pale yellow dress in the reflection of the mirror, holding it up for approval. “That will do nicely.” That seems to relax her a bit as they begin to slip it on to you, lacing the back of it up tightly before sitting you down to do your hair and makeup but you gently wave their hands away. 

“Ma’am? Is everything okay?” Elaine says as she holds her hands up, waiting to see what will happen next but Lysa takes a step back as she drops her hands as if she’s been burned and you quickly turn to reassure her. 

“Everything is perfect, I didn’t mean to startle you, I just… I want to do it myself today. You two can have the rest of the morning off… thank you.” You turn back to stare at yourself in the mirror, the reflection actually looks familiar with your hair down like this, the lurid makeup they usually do you up in absent. 

“Ma’am this is rather unorthodox…” Elaine says but she can’t seem to shake the smile from her face. “But if you insist.”

“I do. Insist.” Your lips are also curling into a grin that you’re desperately fighting off as you look at Elaine in the reflection of the mirror, meeting her gaze. “Take the rest of the morning off, I’ll see you in the evening.” Both girls nod as they take their leave, Lysa finds green slippers and puts them on you before darting out of the room. You start to run a brush through your hair and you shout one last thing over to them before the door closes. “Oh! And please inform Leo that I’ll be skipping breakfast, I have other matters to attend to.” Elaine turns to cock an eyebrow at you but nods as she closes the door. 

You don’t bother holding back the grin now as you comb your hair, wanting to leave it down but you’re not sure if that’s proper for royalty so you decide against it, pinning it up loosely and donning a thin band of a tiara to hold it all in place. Now comes an issue you had not accounted for. Do you put on makeup? The girls always put makeup on you, especially on nights where you have dinner with the prince but now that it’s a choice you wonder if it would be weird. It’s not like you’d be dolling yourself up for the Mandalorian, but he really is the only person you see all day, other than Leo, who you only saw when you needed something. 

Well this was starting to ruin your good mood. Would it be weird if you didn’t wear makeup? It might be since up until today every time he’s seen you you’ve been wearing a mountain of it. Maker, what if he doesn’t even recognize you. No, that's stupid of course he’ll recognize you, he spends everyday with you. You can put on makeup, it isn’t weird. You’d just be putting it on for yourself, not him, it isn’t weird to want to look nice for yourself. But he’s a prick. An observant prick. What if he says something about it? That’s stupid why would he say something, you always wear makeup, it would be odd if you didn’t wear it. What if he’s already out there? What if he saw Elaine and Lysa leave? Would he assume you did your makeup yourself? Shit, why hadn’t you asked if he was waiting? Since when do you care what he thinks? When did this fucker get in your head like this? They’ve done your makeup rather garishly every day you’ve spent with the Mandalorian, so you decide to do it, just something simple, not the typical caked on look they give you, just something around your eyes to make them pop. You settle on green, subtle green eyeliner. 

You look ridiculous. He’s going to laugh at you.

You don’t care what he thinks, yet you find yourself reaching into the vanity to find a cloth to wipe the makeup from your face, maybe you should just tell him you don’t feel well and you want to stay in your room today. Gods when did he get in your head like this, one stupid little conversation and suddenly you couldn’t escape him, that stupid, arrogant, cocky, pompous, conceited, ill-mannered, son of a-

“Why are you taking so long?” You drop the cloth before you can clean your face as you catch a glint of silver in the mirror. 

“What is wrong with you!?” You clutch your chest as you turn around to scowl at the Mandalorian. “If you don’t stop scaring me I’m going to put bells on you.” He leans back against your bedpost and crosses his arms.

“Your ladies-in-waiting. They left half an hour ago and you didn’t come out, I thought you might be in danger.” He shrugs as if that justifies him sneaking into your room. Had you really been sitting here that long?

“Why didn’t you knock? For Makers sake, I could have been changing.” You squint at him angrily as you stand, facing him as you match his stance. Something tells you that the way you do it is less intimidating. 

“If I knocked I would have alerted any potential intruders.” 

“You’ve been outside the door this entire time and we’re on the fourth floor.” He shrugs again.

“I couldn’t take that chance. Now are you ready or not?” He stands up straighter and gestures towards the door. 

“Yes. These gardens better be worth it, I have high expectations.” You frowned as you made a beeline for the door, you could feel him following close on your heels. Once in the hall he once again stood beside you, not behind you, you bit back a smile. He takes a slight lead and you follow him through  the maze of halls. 

You want to talk. Now that you’ve had a taste of any sort of companionship you’re ravenous for it. Even if it is with someone as impolite as him, so you keep it light. 

“So… where are the gardens located?” 

“If I tell you, are you going to try and run off without me?” 

“If I tried you would be right behind me anyways so what would be the point?” You grin in earnest as you hear him exhale sharply through his nose. 

“You know about the forest that surrounds the castle?” 

“Yes I know that the castle that I live in is surrounded by trees.” You know he doesn’t see it but you roll your eyes anyway. 

“Forgive me, princess.” Your heart skips a beat, he actually sounds sort of sweet… “You got lost trying to find the fresher three days ago, so forgive me if I assume you know nothing about the grounds.” And there it is. 

“Do you spend all your free time coming up with snarky remarks? Is that what you do when you aren’t actively stalking me?” That gets a scoff from him.

“It isn’t stalking if it’s my job.I swore to keep you from harm and my word is very dear to me.” 

“You’re avoiding the question.” 

“Have you considered that I’m just smarter than you? That I just have a quicker wit?” Gods, you want to rip out the stupid modulator that he speaks through. It has to be altering his voice, no one's voice is always that low and steady. You feel as if the baritone of it soaks through your skin into your bones. 

“Impossible. The only explanation is that you must be dedicating several hours a day to forming new creative insults for me.” You let your fingertips trace the stone bricks as the two of you descend a staircase. He shakes his head no.

“I don’t have the kind of free time for that. You’re a full time job, sarad'ika.” 

Dead stop.

“What the hell did you just call me?” 

He doesn’t respond, actually it looks like he’s freezing up. He better not be laughing under that tin can with his modulator silenced again.

“You can’t just start slandering me in other languages, Mando.” You can’t keep the smile off your face as you reach forward to gently brush your hand against the Beskar pauldron closest to you. You mean it as nothing more than a comforting gesture but he instantaneously recoils from it, you’re surprised he even felt it through the steel and fabric but he takes a sudden step back and doesn’t mute his modulator fast enough for you to miss the beginning of a sharp inhale. There’s a beat of silence where you can feel your heart racing, why did it always get so hot in this stupid castle at the most inconvenient times. 

“My apologies, princess.” He straightens up and starts descending the stairs again, much more rigid than before. 

“Oh come on you can’t just do that.” You have to hike up your skirt to keep up with him now.

“Do what?” His stride doesn’t waver. You have to take two steps at a time to match his pace. 

“Say something and not tell me what it means!” 

“Drop it, princess.” Gods, you hate the way he says it. He makes it so easy to forget that it’s a label, not an endearment. You can’t stop the words that fall from your lips on instinct. 

“Don’t call me that.” 

He turns sharply, doing a swift 180, and you slam into his chest plate but manage to keep your footing. You’re higher on the stairs then him, making you face to face now. Well, face to helmet. 

“You are a princess, princess. I will refer to you as your title, nothing else. There is nothing else that I should be calling you.”

He called you sarad'ika. 

You scowl at him and you’re sure he���s scowling back at you. You’re not sure how long you stand like that, two statues on the staircase until finally you make the first move, brushing past him as you continue down the stairs until you reach a door, you wish you had paid more attention to where he was taking you because you’re caught off guard by the immediate exit from the stone walls of the keep. You hadn’t stepped foot outside the castle walls since you had first entered them.

It took you a second to adjust to the light as you held your hand up to shield your eyes. Once you've finally settled you take another step before you have to cover your eyes again. “Maker!” You take a step back as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. You can feel him grab your shoulder gently.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Genuine concern. You’re taken aback by it, he’s never sounded anything but sarcastic and stoic up until just now. You open your eyes to stare into the thin black line in the Beskar. His hand jostles you slightly and you suddenly remember to breathe. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?” You can physically feel the worry coming off of him, both of his hands gripping your shoulders now. 

“I just- I’m okay… it’s just- the- the reflection…” You say it softly and feel his hand drop and he lets out a sigh. “The sun on your armor just caught me off guard…” He turns around and starts walking again and you can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of you, making him stop dead in his tracks. 

“It’s not funny.” His tone has returned to its cold stoic nature but you can’t stop laughing.

“Oh come on…” You make your way over to him, still trembling with laughter. “You’re so sparkly, it caught me off guard.”

“I was seriously worried about you. You do understand that my entire job is to keep you safe right?” He takes long strides and once again you can barely keep up as you follow him to a trail at the edge of the forest that surrounds the keep. You take deep breaths, trying desperately to stop the laughter as you grab his arm. He tenses the moment you make contact with him but at least he doesn’t draw back this time. He won’t look at you, his helmet turned slightly to the right. 

“Hey, I’m sorry.” You mean it but you can’t fight the smile on your face as you hold the fabric between his pauldron and his bracer. “It’s kind of nice, you know, to know you are capable of human emotions.” You don’t realize that your thumb is rubbing small comforting circles into his sleeve, your gaze softening. “I was starting to think you were just a very sarcastic droid.” That makes him look at you.

“I am not a droid.” 

Yikes. Tough crowd.

He says it with such sternness that you don’t follow it up with a joke, you drop your hand from his arm and just stare into the visor. 

You bring your hand up to comfort him again.

“Hey I’m sor-”

“Don’t” There’s that word again, only this time he’s so harsh with it. You take a step back. 

“Well I hardly think this is fair.”

“Excuse me?” He tilts the helmet slightly at you, the annoyance in his voice is still palpable. 

“We have had two conversations since the day I met you and you spent most of those conversations making fun of me and suddenly you get all stiff and upset just because I made one joke at your expense, a joke that might I add wasn’t even all that mean, and you get all short with me? That’s not fair.” He doesn’t speak, you can feel the sharpness of his gaze even through the visor. 

But he doesn’t have a retort, he just scoffs. 

Kriff. 

You had to say something, because now you’re both just standing here on this trail in utter silence. Come on, think, you can’t let one awkward moment ruin this. You can’t have things be weird between you and the only person who will talk to you in this entire fucking castle. Gods, you can’t stand him but he’s company. So, you say the first thing that comes to mind, like an idiot. 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

“What?” His voice is still tinged with the remains of his anger.

Well now he’s just being unkind for no reason, you apologized, or at least tried to before he so rudely interrupted you. Or maybe you should have chosen a less stupid question but it was too late to be thinking thoughts like that. 

“You know what, nevermind. Go back to the castle, I’ll find the garden myself.” You shove past him, marching down the trail through the trees. Where was this coming from? Why has he suddenly out of nowhere gotten so cold? Whatever, he can go sulk somewhere else. You just wanted to see the gardens and you’re not going to let him ruin your entire day before it’s even started. You can hear him groan as he starts to follow. Of course he isn’t going to listen to you, you turn on your heel to face him. “Stop it.”

“You know I can’t.” Of course he doesn’t sound apologetic, but at least he doesn't sound angry anymore.

“I am ordering you to stop.”

“You don’t have the auth-”

“I don’t care. I don’t care if I do not have the authority to tell you to stop, you will stop, go back to the castle. Now, Mando.” You know he won’t but you’re getting desperate, you don’t care because at this point if you have to feel alone, you want to actually be alone. 

“No.” 

There it is. You knew that you weren’t friends, afterall how could you be, you don’t know each other in the slightest. But a small part of you thought that maybe he respected you, at least respected you enough to not treat you like everyone else does. Like they’re afraid of you, or like you are nothing more than an extension of your husband. Yet here he is acting on your husband's authority, with no one around, just the two of you. In your loneliness you had briefly let yourself get sucked into a reality where the Mandalorian was someone who you could talk to, even if it was only to argue, arguing was so much better then the nothingness that was consuming your bland life, the little feud that the two of you had built up through what short conversations you had managed was all you had. But of course he had to go and ruin it, you hadn’t wanted a friend, you had just wanted someone to talk to. 

You hate him. For getting your hopes up. You hate your husband. For marrying you in the first place. You just want to go home, real home, Hoth, not this unfamiliar stupidly hot planet. It’s all starting to crash down on you. You haven’t cried since the day you found out you were arranged to be married but out of nowhere it was starting to hit you like a ton of bricks. Your eyes shot daggers at the Mandalorian. You wanted to scream at him, you wanted to stomp your foot and throw a tantrum because in an instant he had ruined what had the potential to be your first good day in weeks, and he had done it within the first 30 minutes of being in your presence. But why give him the satisfaction? Especially if he was only doing all this to be cruel. You had done nothing wrong after all, he was the one who had gotten all uppity out of nowhere and for seemingly no reason. 

“Fine.” At least your voice doesn’t crack.

“Fine?” He sounds truly surprised by the lack of explosion after your minutes of brooding. Maybe he was doing this all because he was bored, afterall he was probably just as alone as you were. But you had thought that maybe you were starting to be alone, together. 

“Fine. You are right. I do not have the authority to dismiss you, I would like to return to my chambers.” He takes a step forward. You can’t look at him anymore. 

“Oh come on, you can’t be ser-”

“Don’t.” You hope it hurts. 

Having the word thrown back in his face with as much venom as you can muster, as you once again shove past him and follow the trail until you are out of the forest and making your way back to the castle. He doesn’t try to stop you, he doesn’t even speak. He just returns to the way he’s always been, deadly quiet, and always just out of sight. Just out of reach. Neither of you speaks as you make your way up the several flights of stairs, in your rage you didn’t realize you were lost until it was too late. 

Stupid enormous castle. Stupid maze of halls. Stupid husband who made this stupid place your home. Stupid Mandalorian. 

You know he knows that you’re lost but he doesn’t speak. Finally you just sit against a wall, the Mandalorian a few steps back, watching you.

“Leodall!” You say it loudly in the noiseless hall, your voice bouncing off the walls. 

“Is that really necessary? If you’re lost I can take you back to your room.” His voice is dripping with annoyance at this point and all you do is glare at him until you see a familiar orange figure approaching.

“Yes princess, is everything well?” His brows furrowed as he sees you sitting on the floor, he goes to help you up but you wave him off, standing on your own. 

“It appears I need your help finding my chambers Leo.” You don’t acknowledge the Mandalorian, keeping your eyes trained on Leo. He on the other hand does toss a look at Mando, the confusion on his face is evident but he senses the tension and decides not to ask, leading you to your room. 

Maker, you hadn’t even been on the right floor. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you ma’am?” Leo asks as he steps into your room after you. 

“No Leo, that will be all, thank you.” He nods as he shuts the door, you see the glint of silver as he does. 

You collapse onto the bed, the real bed, not the one that you found so much more comfort in, kicking your shoes off you curl up into yourself and just lay there. The urge to cry has passed, now you just want solitude. 

You try not to wonder if he’s still out there. 

You don’t know how much time passes but eventually Elaine brings you dinner, Lysa is not with her. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen them separated. 

“They said you didn’t go to lunch ma’am, I thought you might be feeling ill.”

“No. Just tired I guess.” 

She doesn’t press further as she sets down the tray. This is why she’s your favorite. As she goes to leave, you sit up. 

“Is he still out there?” You whisper it, you already know the answer. And you also know he’s probably listening. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

That’s all you needed to know, you nod and she dismisses herself.  ✩

You hate him. 

You have nothing better to do now that you refuse to talk to him. So you hate him, that’s your new hobby. You’re on day three of your strike. You let Elaine and Lysa doll you up in blue gowns again and do you up with over the top makeup and you go back to the library. But you don’t pretend to read books anymore. Instead you sit in a reading nook you stumbled upon, it might be your new favorite spot in the entire castle. Even if you spend all of your time there brooding. You sit with your back to the window and you glare at the Mandalorian, all day. 

He just stands there. 

Sometimes the visor faces you, sometimes it doesn’t, sometimes if you stay long enough he’ll even pull up a chair. You just watch him. And think. 

The first day was spent plotting, mostly. You don’t have a good enough grasp on his abilities to attack him head on. You know that his helmet can do a lot but you honestly have no idea anything past the fact that he can silence himself, it gives him advanced hearing capabilities, and you have to assume night vision because of that night where he found you in the library. And of course there was the lingering issue of him being an ex-bounty hunter. 

So no. No attacking head on.

All this scheming made you realize how embarrassingly little you actually know about him. 

You seriously doubt you could sneak up on him. His neck wasn’t armored but it was covered in layers of fabric. It would be embarrassing if you tried to stab him and got tangled up in his cape. And obviously you didn’t want to kill him. You just… well you don’t really know what the goal is now. Honestly you feel a bit silly over this whole thing. You might have overreacted but he had been impolite to say the least, and you had nothing better to do so why not just be mad. 

Maybe you could ask Kodo to dismiss him. You never asked him for anything during your weekly dinners but you were his bride after all, maybe he would do that for you. Unless the Mandalorian was working directly with Kodo… you’d never considered that he might be reporting back to the prince with information about you.

You rule that possibility out. Kodo doesn’t care enough about you to do that. (You also rule out asking for Mando to be dismissed because as much as you despise him, you can’t bring yourself to do that. You desperately wish you could.)

New plan. Get away from him long enough to explore the gardens without him.

How hard could it be to find out where his quarters are located? Maybe you could ask Leo, would he even know? He has to live somewhere in the castle. There’s no way he could live anywhere else, he’s there day and night watching you… 

Does he even have quarters? He wore the same thing every day, at least it looked like he did, he certainly didn’t have a bad smell to him that would indicate he doesn’t change, although you had no idea what he smelled like, you suppose you had never thought about it. Why do you want to know what he smells like all of a sudden? Nevermind. He had to sleep, right? He wasn’t waiting outside your room the night you had snuck out to the library. If you could find out where his room was maybe you could lock him in… or you would just make him angry, he was so tall, and broad, and you couldn’t tell with all the layers but he seemed muscular, strong enough to break down a door certainly. 

You stare at where he’s sitting, he had pulled up a chair an hour ago and placed it across from your nook, both his legs firmly planted on the floor as you two engage in what might be your tenth staring contest of the day. You bet he could rip a door right off its hinges, he’d probably be outraged if you barricaded his door, he’d hunt you down for doing that. Of course he would know it was you, who else would try and lock him in his own chambers? You wonder what he would do if he caught you. Obviously he would catch you, if he had been a bounty hunter he would catch you with ease, he’d probably just go straight to the garden, knowing that��s where you would hide from him. He would probably be so furious with you that he’d probably throw caution to the wind, disregard the fact that you were royalty, disregard the fact that you were married to the prince, and just take you right there. 

Back to the castle.  

Back to your chambers. Take you back to your chambers. 

Gods it’s hot in this library… you took a book off the shelf just to fan yourself. 

Is he sweating under all that metal?

Stop it. 

You decided to plan more tomorrow. The heat was clearly having some sort of effect on your ability to think clearly.

But day two of your silent treatment came and you didn’t feel all that palpable rage anymore, you were just confused now. So you dedicated day two to figuring out what had happened. Why had things fallen apart so quickly?

It had all started when you made that droid comment. 

Or had it?

Now that you were thinking about it he had actually started to pull back when you’d been on the stair. He had called you that name. Kriff. What had it been? You should have written it down. It must have been pretty bad for it to make him so upset. But why would he be upset about something he said? He had said it so naturally, it clearly had just slipped out. You weren’t even sure what language it had been in. You could look, you were in a library after all, but it would be obvious to him what you were doing and you didn’t want to upset him further. 

What else had happened…?

Shit.

You had touched him, it hadn’t been anything more than a brief brush against his armor. Maybe that was considered offensive in his culture though, maybe you had crossed a line. Your stomach dropped but only for a moment as you remembered your first interaction, you had touched his armor quite a bit that night so that couldn’t be it. 

You hated riddles, and you were giving yourself a headache.

So you spent most of the second day rubbing your temples with your eyes closed. 

And now you’re here. Day three of your strike and you’ve already run out of things to be angry about so now you finally let your mind wander to the one thing you’ve been avoiding since you met him. 

What’s under the armor? 

Or more importantly, who is under the armor? In your previous brief conversations you hadn’t brought the helmet up, they’d been so short there was no way for it to come up naturally. (And honestly you assumed he was sick of being asked about it. Everybody probably asked about it.) For what little you knew about Mandalorians, you knew they didn’t take their helmets off. But he had to at some point right? He was human. Gods, now that you thought of it you never saw him eat or drink. 

You exhaled sharply through your nose as you imagined him drinking through a little straw inside the helmet. He turned in just the slightest towards you but kept his visor trained on a shelf of books that must have been pretty interesting to have been holding his attention for the last several hours. 

He was probably scowling, like, all the time. He probably had a permanent crease between his eyebrows. It would probably piss him off if you smoothed it out with your thumb. Of course that would be why you would do it. To piss him off. 

He had to be handsome. You despised the fact that he had to be handsome. He acted with an air of confidence that only extremely good looking people had. Of course he would be handsome, the gods could not be kind enough to make him ugly. You bet his features are sharp, just like his tongue. Stop. 

Don’t think about his tongue. 

You need to talk to Leo about implementing some sort of cooling system in this dreadfully balmy library.

Think about something else. His lips. That was innocent enough. You would wager that they were chapped, spending all that time inside steel, probably made his lips dry. He was probably always licking his lips. His bottom lip was probably always jutted out in a pout, he’s so stupidly moody. His tongue was probably always poking out slightly, wetting his stupidly plush bottom lip. 

Stop. 

Maker, it’s so warm in here, it’s a good thing you’re wearing such a dark shade of blue because you’re certainly sweating through your gown. Calm down. 

Teeth. Think about teeth. There’s nothing about teeth that should make your heart race, they’re just teeth. They’re probably straight and perfect. He acted so superior, the bastard would have perfect teeth. They’re probably just sharp enough to hurt if he were to bite you, why would he be biting you?

Stop.

When you get him all riled up and simmering he probably stands there all stupid with his mouth open just slightly. You can probably see his bottom teeth when he sits there with a dumb look on his face. You could probably get a better look at them if you pulled his bottom lip down with your thumb.

Stop.

Think about his eyes. Get away from his mouth entirely. His stare has to be as intense as his presence. He could probably lay waste to a bounty with one look if he would just take the helmet off. Nope. Actually, don’t think about how his eyes would feel on your face. Be thankful for the helmet. Just stop thinking about him. How dare he. He was probably doing this on purpose, getting in your head like this. Gods, you detest him. 

He’s probably brunette. He probably keeps it short because he can’t maintain it with the helmet and all. Why does that kind of bum you out? 

Stop.

You don’t care what his hair looks like. He probably had an unkept beard, he doesn’t have time to shave. It probably scratches you as it brushes against your skin. 

Nope. 

Stop. 

You stand up, you need to get out of this horrifically stuffy library. You don’t acknowledge him as you make your way towards the dining hall, you have dinner with Kodo tonight, best not be late to see your doting hubby. Especially if the reason you’re late is because you were off somewhere thinking about another man. You don’t hear him but you know Mando is behind you as you enter the dining room, you take pride in your ability to find it without having to call Leo. (It’s just down the hall from the library but to you it’s still an accomplishment.) Much to your chagrin Kodo is already seated. 

“Wife! Come, join me!” Oh he is already hammered, lucky you. 

You take your respective seat across from him and the Mandalorian takes his place a few steps behind your chair, his hands clasped in front of him. 

“Good evening husband, how has your day been?” You quickly begin to down your wine as he starts to speak, his hair is a mess, you spend nearly an hour getting ready every morning and he can’t even run a comb through his hair. Lovely. 

“Wonderful darling.” Why does he always have to look so satisfied with himself?

Dinner is long. And boring. At one point he starts talking about how unattractive he thinks one of his brother's wives is, laughing the entire time at some joke you don’t get regarding her appearance. You lazily take a bite of the unfamiliar vegetable on your plate as you try to tune him out. After your first day here you stopped questioning the food, it was always good so who cares what it is. He slams back another drink, a servant rushes over and fills his glance once more. He’s had so much to drink at this point you wonder how he’s still sitting upright. It’s quiet for a moment and you realize that he’s waiting for a response to something. Maker, you should have been paying attention. His gaze darkens as he lets out a tsk. 

“I had quite a pleasant time today out in the city.”

“Oh really? What did you do today my prince?”

“They had opened a new pleasure house in the city, and a few of my brothers and I visited for the grand opening.” He starts laughing, slamming his glass onto the table as he shakes with laughter. Your entire body went rigid. You knew he was probably visiting brothels, of course he was, but the way he threw it into your face with no regard for your feelings rattled you enough to make you just want to leave. You took another sip of wine. 

“Did you, my prince? And how was that?” You can feel the tension in the room, every servant is standing a bit straighter, their eyes all forward. 

“Just wonderful.” He clicks his tongue as he picks at his food with his hands. You don’t bother hiding the disgust on your face. He leers at you. “What? Are you displeased, wife? ” You suck in a breath through your teeth. 

“No, of course not, my prince.” You set your fork down, you’ve lost your appetite. 

“No, no, no, if you are unhappy, wife, I would love for you to speak up.” He’s snickering at this point, teetering drunkenly. You want to leave, you don’t like this. He had always been annoying at the worst of times, and dismissive, but now he was just belittling you. 

At least you finally had a valid reason to hate him. 

“I am fine.” You say it as steadily as you can manage. “Just tired.”

“Really? What have you done today that has left you so tired?” 

Gods, you just want to leave.

“I did quite a lot of reading today, my pri-” He bursts into laughter before you can even finish. Your face is starting to heat.

“Is that so? This is why I do not spend more time with you, my nervous mouse.” Gross, you hate that name. “You’re just so… bland.”

Ouch.

“Don’t you agree, mouse?” 

You know he wants you to answer, and something tells you that he won’t let you leave unless you do. So you swallow your pride. And you swallow the lump that is forming in your throat.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Maybe you should put him lower on your list than the Mandalorian.

“Yes. I am bland.”

He leans back in his chair with a predatory smile on his face, like he was the cat, and you were the mouse. The insignificant mouse. 

“That is all I wanted to hear, dear wife.” He flashes you a toothy grin, giving you a wave you know means you’re dismissed. And you stand, rushing out into the hall and storming off towards your chambers as briskly as possible. Feeling the tears that you’ve held in for three weeks now starting to prickle at the corners of your eyes. The Mandalorians pace never falters as he trails after you until you finally find your chambers, all on your own. You wish you were in the mood to appreciate such an accomplishment. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand as subtly as possible, your other hand opening the door, you only get the door open a few inches before it slams shut. You turn around in an instant to glare at him, The Mandalorian was looming over you, his hand just above your head, holding the door shut. You can’t do this right now. You know that the moment he starts whatever snarky comments he surely has about that dinner that you won’t be able to hold back the tears anymore. You can’t do anything other than squeeze your eyes shut to hold back the waterworks as you brace yourself for whatever he has to say. 

The familiar faint crackle of the modulator fills the air, suffocating you. 

“Are you okay?”

Oh. 

You open your eyes and he isn’t looming over you anymore, he’s just standing, notably a few steps back now. 

You wish you could stop what happened next, but it all finally happened. At long last, you cry. You finally break down, the weight of the world collapsing down on you. He doesn’t move, or speak, he just stares. Honestly you’re pretty sure you’ve caught him off guard. 

“No.” 

It’s all you can squeak out, you wish you didn’t sound so pathetic as you said it. 

“I just… I want to go home. I hate this entire stupid planet. I hate this confusing castle and now I hate my husband” Gods you need to stop talking, you’re starting to babble, but he doesn’t speak and you can’t stand the silence so you just keep going. “I didn’t want this. Any of this. I miss my brothers and sisters, I miss talking to people. I miss being alone.” You stare up at him now with big wet eyes, you detest the way your lip quivers. “Like, actually alone. Because now I feel alone, but I’m surrounded by people constantly… and that is a thousand times worse. And I feel like I’m going crazy, like, all the time. And I can’t even talk to you, you’re always there and I can’t say a word. I don’t want to have some deep and meaningful conversation with you for Makers sake. I just want to insult you because that is the only thing I can do when I am in your infuriating presence, and you are the only person I can insult who doesn’t suddenly start to fear for his livelihood.” You stare into that miserably cold visor. “And I don’t know what I did to deserve any of this.” You sniffle as you wipe your eyes again. 

You just stand there. You want him to say something, you don’t even want him to comfort you, you just want to hear the modulator crackle, anything. But he doesn’t. And you can’t take it. So you swing open your chamber doors and slam them shut behind you, make sure to lock them as loudly as possible. 

You cry. You spend the rest of the evening crying, once you get out of that terrible dress you lay on your nest of blankets in the closet in your undergarments, clutching a pillow as you fight back sobs. So much for the silent treatment you’d been giving him. Now he probably hates you even more, he probably thinks you are some whiney, spoiled, coddled little girl who can’t handle royal life. 

It’s the middle of the night and you’ve nearly wept yourself to sleep when you hear the faintest knock on your bedroom door. 

Your heart skips a beat.

It isn’t Elaine, or Lysa, or Leo. None of them ever bother you this late, and you certainly didn’t summon them. There’s only one person it could possibly be and your heart is nearly beating out of your chest. 

Why would he come here so late? 

You don’t know but a part of you that you are really struggling to rein in while you’re still in this sensitive state has an idea of what you want the reason to be. 

No.

You don’t want that. The part of you that is obviously going crazy, that’s who wants it. Not you. You weren’t allowing that part any control, not these last three weeks and certainly not now. Still, you don a robe and rush to the door. You take a moment for a deep breath before you slide the lock back and open the door, slowly, but surely. 

But he isn’t there. 

Stop feeling disappointed. 

You take a careful step out the door, the soft glow from your room illuminating the hall. You look down both passages, searching for that glimmer of silver but you never see it. As you dejectedly go to close the door something catches your eye. A book, on the ground just outside your door. You lean down to pick it up before quickly retreating into your room. You walk over to a lamp to get a clearer view of it. As your eyes scan the title a warmth spreads across your face. 

The Smitten Paladin. 

So he had gone back for them. 

You need to stop smiling. Obviously he did this because he feels bad for you. Or, if you’re lucky, it’s a peace offering. You return to the closet, bringing the lamp over to your makeshift bed as you open the cover, wanting to read a chapter before bed, but your eyes dart to something scrawled inside. The handwriting is small and neat as you read it.

"It’s green." 

You decide that the Mandalorian isn’t your least favorite person here anymore.

[smalltimes]

Games I played in Winter 2024-2025

Tunic - The best game I've played in a long, long time. If you like zelda games, do not read reviews or look up a synopsis. Buy this and play it. Fear the eyes of the far shore.

Animal Well - THIS is how you make a metroid-vania. I'm still reeling at how goddamn good this is. Just the densest concentration of puzzles and exploration, sick art style, perfect and thicc like a pound cake.

Book of Hours - buuhhh, what to even say. I don't even know if I like this game. It's like a mosquito bite that I just want to keep scratching. It has taught me a new definition of insanity. Playing this makes me feel the same way I felt when I first started playing Civ 5.

Hollow Knight - Danny DeVito "I get it" meme, I see why people are so tied up in knots about Silksong. if I were 14 again and couldn't afford to buy games, I'd want this the most out of everything on this list, just for the depth and challenge.

Outer Wilds: Echoes of the Eye - It finally felt like it had been long enough since Tohru died for me to revisit this game, but I still thought about him the entire time. Nothing has really come close to how good the base game is, and this DLC captures 95% of that magic. The only flaw is how it's meant to slot into the main game rather than stand alone, so for someone like me who was just revisiting it to play the DLC, the ending didn't entirely work for me. Still, I get what they did and how they did it, and they made the right choice. I dreamt a happy dream about this game the night after I started playing it, and beat it the next morning.

Chants of Sennaar - This game was made for me, specifically. I wish the last couple levels were much longer, but partly because I just wanted to be in this world more. I really hope the creators of this do more with this style, and damn I wish there were more linguistics-based games out there. Banger soundtrack too.

Crypt Custodian - I had middling hopes for this one. The art style is cutesy, the movement is floaty, and the story seems silly right off the bat. I could not have been more wrong about everything. The combat is so crisp and reactive. It's a wonderful balance between forgiving enough that I never felt like I was being cheated, but difficult enough that I never one-shot a boss or even beat one without taking a hit. The world is vaster than I imagined it could be for a game of this scale, but fast travel is easy to come by. Even in my initial playthrough I never felt like I was being railroaded or having to backtrack and comb through areas again and again to figure out what my next step would be. Instead of a New Game+ or something there's a built in randomizer. Why is this the first game I've ever played that thought of this! Lastly, the story isn't really a story like a linear game would have. Each zone is an illustration of each of the characters, and they all fit together to paint a picture of what the afterlife is for our pets and other wild animals. An absolute masterpiece.

Yoku's Island Express - What if a metroid-vania was a tropical-themed pinball table? So cute and innovative, a delightful little 10-hour adventure that never felt like a slog or back-track city. One of the funniest sequel-bait endings ever; I hope they make one!

Talos Principle 2 DLCs - Another game specifically made for me. DLC 1 felt like a great little happy ending tying up the loose ends from the main story. DLC 2 was such a fun chill island vacation, felt like a victory lap. DLC 3 has some of the hardest individual puzzles I've ever experienced in a video game, but I'm proud to say I beat every last one without any outside help. If you think you can get down with Portal but with the humor swapped out with philosophy, this is that game.

Case of the Golden Idol - Absolutely blew me away, such a cool way of telling a story. Like, what if Where's Waldo committed a murder and you had to figure out not only how and why he did it, but also the occupation and favorite food of the victim's niece. Very Obra-Dinn: dark, funny, and precise. It's a little weird though, I played a bit of the demo of the sequel and it felt like diminishing returns, but I'm optimistic I'll enjoy it once I get around to buying the full version.

Balatro - Honestly the soundtrack is the biggest selling point, which is weird to say but what they do with it is kind of incredible. I get why it was the year's hottest new thang, and I totally got sucked into it for a good long while. At the end of the day it doesn't replace STS for me, though. Too mathy at higher levels, not vibes-based enough to jump in and have a fun run. I wish I had bought this for my phone instead of on Steam.

Celeste - Best, snappiest, and most precise platformer since super meat boy. An 8-way controller is a must though, I got so mad at my x-bone controller so many times that I stopped playing halfway through the B-sides, but that's not really the game's fault.

Transistor - Still my favorite Supergiant story after all these years. A tragedy for the ages. No other game does what this does with combat and encouraging you to switch up your gameplay. I spent hours in the Sandbox just trying out different combos and options. I think some reviews at the time disliked gating story elements behind your gameplay choices but in my opinion that's the point. The game isn't that hard and you don't need to play in a style you dislike for very long. Oh, and get the Sea Monster at Junction Jan's.

Ori and the Will of the Wisps - Not as good as the first one, but damn near close. A little more combat-focused, a little less platformy and movement-based. Much fewer escape-sequences, which is a huge relief, and I loved the new central hub. Felt like they had a really good thing going on with the first one that just needed some cleaning up and polishing, but they wanted it to be more like hollow knight or something and went too far in their tuning.

The Forgotten City - Kinda like if the Talos Principle and Outer Wilds had a lil baby. A little short but nailing the true ending is pretty satisfying. The less said about it the better, to keep its secrets, but it's essentially one big time-loop puzzle that's solved through talking to people and exploring this little Roman town. Absolutely loved the implementation of Galerius giving you the option of not having to redo things you've already unlocked or allowing you to go back and do things a different way. Like, for instance, one of the people is poisoned and dying, and you have the antidote. At the beginning of each loop you can give Galerius the antidote to give to her, run over and give it to her yourself, or let her die. The best part is, each of these three choices has a real impact on what happens that day, and what dialogue and information is unlocked.

Chicory - Lovely little adventure, good puzzles, top notch exploration, sick-ass boss encounters. I can't imagine how annoying it would be if you were only playing on controller without a mouse, though. Cute furry world where everyone is named after food. I was named pierogies.

Death's Door - Absolutely killer worldbuiilding and soundtrack, the vibes are almost completely perfect, and for the most part I loved the unique boss encounters. There are many weird or untuned things that bugged me, though, like getting completely stun-locked in corners and the weapons and upgrades being largely unnoticeable. The Gemsbok just did a video on this game, and it made me realize my biggest problem with the game. Past the first time you see each zone there is no sense of adventure. You walk (or mash the roll button) through a zone, clear out all the enemies, and find there's nothing to discover other than collectibles only accessible via a power you'll get later on. Literally only 1 of these 24 collectibles have a puzzle attached to it (and that being the only real puzzle in the game), so it felt like half my playthrough was spent roaming around The Overgrown Ruins looking for one more secret to check off my to-do list.

Myst - A classic for a reason, there was a ton in here that I forgot about. Very rough around the edges but that's like its whole thing y'know.

Hyper Light Drifter - One of those games that introduced the whole genre of Metroidvanias to me. So glad I revisited it and finally beat the last boss after 8 years. It's funny how much smaller it is than I remember, but the qol is on the money and the combat is as tight as it ever was. Just a fantastic game that I'd rate way higher if I wasn't already familiar with it.

Night in the Woods * So, this isn't really a game I guess, more of an interactive novel. If I didn't relate to the main character so much I think I'd be more gung-ho to dive further into it but it just makes me depressed. lol.

Toki Tori 2+ * Make no mistake, this is a full-ass adventure game, on par in terms of scale with HLD, Ori, and Yoku. The wild thing is that it presents itself as some sort of phone game or a Block Dude. Truly bizarre and devilishly challenging, but unfortunately once the world becomes open I lost track of my objective and didn't want to slog through the esoteric overworld and backtracking to hunt down a hidden path I missed 5 hours ago. Some day I'll find a guide and wrap this up.

Myst 3 - Coming off of the mind-bending difficulty that is riven, this felt like a day at a theme park. Great puzzles, totally immersive and inventive worlds, short and sweet, if a little silly at times.

Peglin - What if slay the spire was a Peggle? It can be fun and a challenge, but so, so annoying when one bad bounce that was out of your control ruins the whole run. I guess STS has that too, when your deck gets a bad shuffle and there's nothing you can do, but it feels like it happens way more often on the pegs. Also, a lot of the bosses can be totally steamrolled without too much thought, which is a little bit of a letdown since it doesn't really matter what your build looks like. As long as you keep in mind how you're going to beat a couple bosses like the painter and dragon, any other boss just doesn't matter.

Dredge - VERY fun fishing game, honestly doesn't even need the cthulu stuff. Doesn't overstay its welcome, and the ending is satisfying and earned. The most fun I had was just the first 3-5 hours rolling around, making money and upgrading my boat. There was a point where it felt more like a slog than a fun time, but I pushed through it and realized it wasn't that big of a push. Still, that's not exactly what you want.

The Sexy Brutale * It sells itself as a grand time-loop puzzle thing in the vein of Forbidden City or Outer Wilds, but it really isn't. Yes, everything takes place in one big mansion, but there's no exploration to be had here. Now, I'm a little further than halfway, solved 5/8 of the main story missions, and I can say that decisively because each of the cases is in a discreet wing of the mansion that is only unlocked once you've solved the previous one. It is intensely linear in a way I was not expecting. Don't get me wrong, it's lovingly crafted, and each puzzle feels unique, creative, and rewarding to solve. But between the checklist vibe of the progression gating, the rocky and sometimes clumsy controls, and repetitive animations, the game largely falls flat. Swing and a miss.

Little Inferno - Cute and fun, a neat little 2-hour experience. There are some surprisingly deep themes that poke in every once in a while, but ultimately it's little more than a bedtime story. A small mark against it, apparently I had already played and beaten this years ago when it came out and had no memory of it whatsoever.

Cave Story+ - Oddly enough another comparison to super meat boy in this list, it looks and feels like exactly what it is, a flash game that somehow got developed into a full-ass game. Surprisingly good though! I did not care for a lot of the humor that felt very lolrandom reference-based, but i guess that was just that era.

Vision Soft Reset * I got stuck on a difficult platforming section directly followed by a very tough fight, and gave up after maybe 30 attempts. Maybe I'll go back to it some day? The time travel aspect a very cool concept, and well implemented, but the game just feels a little too rough around the edges and flash-y. I really wanted to like this game more, but I think it's for someone else.

A Short Hike - Short is correct. A busy little furry island to chill out in for a few hours. Good dialogue and characters. Don't try to just beat the game, that's not the point. Do all the sidequests and talk to everyone, and take your time.

Dorfromantik - If they made A Quiet Year into a video game it would be this. Extremely chill, way too chill for me, but I could imagine how someone would get super into this.

Minit - If this was a free flash game it would be one of the best. I beat it in 1, maybe 2 hours, and had some fun, but I'm glad I got it off of Epic's giveaway

Played but not Beat:

Darkest Dungeon - I might dive into this for real some time, feels more punishing than XCOM but I like the combat setup and basic gameplay loop. I worry that there will be a point that the game becomes unwinnable or soft-locked, and I won't realize it and waste a ton of time.

Snakebird - Actually just a phone game, but cute and devious puzzle design a la Baba Is You. might never boot this up again unless I'm desperate.

Up Next:

Myst 4

Undertale

Enter the Gungeon

Kentucky Route Zero

(*) Asterisks indicate that I didn't finish the game.

[jjs-brainrot]

Alright, finally started all of the anime I was planning to pick up for Fall 2024 so time to do my first impressions for the season!

Just as a reminder: This will be my ranking of these shows based purely on how I felt about the first 1-3 episodes. Continuations and anime that I've already read the source material for will be put into a separate rank after the rest.

Overall, I'd say this is looking to be another strong season with a lot of shows I'm feeling extremely excited to keep up with!

A-Tier (sold on it in 1 episode)

Puniru is a Cute Slime: Transgender slime girl who, as stated by the title, is very cute. Hilarious and adorable first couple of episodes. I'm fully in on backing Puniru for slimegirl of the season. Also: HOLY FUCK THE ED IS A COVER OF "THE SHOW" BY ADO!!!

Acro Trip: PG Gushing Over Magical Girls but not as explicitly gay and dedicating half the screen space to a fuckboy for some reason. Very strong start though my opinion on this series will hinge on how much yuri we get and if the fuckboy gets in the way of it or not.

Magilumiere Co. Ltd.: Super neat concept for a magical girl setting and has a very strong start so far. Kana x Hitomi is already my frontrunner for ship of the season.

The Stories of Girls Who Couldn't Be Magicians: Little Witch Academia but it's about the student in the general education program. Easily some of the prettiest backgrounds and art style this season. No matter what, i need to see more of this very pretty show.

B-Tier (strong start but I need a few more episodes to lock it in)

Dandadan: I was going to give it an A-Tier but the abduction scene takes it a full rank down. I'm told that's the worse it ever gets, buuuut I also don't trust shounen fans that much after trying to get through the slog that was Undead Unluck so we'll see.

C-Tier (rough start but has some promise)

Demon Lord 2099: "We have Shadowrun at home". Really hard to tell how this one will turn based off the first episode. Neat concept but could swing wildly in quality.

D-Tier (I'll stick it out but they're on thin ice)

Nothing

F-Tier (lol, no.)

I’ll Become a Villainess Who Goes Down in History: That might be the most bland villainess isekai I've ever watched. I felt like I wasted 20 minutes of my life I'll never get back…

Good Bye, Dragon Life: interesting concept wasted on extremely bland writing. Thought about sticking with it for the Lamia girl but it's so devoid of any personality and as far as snake girls go, she's no jashin-chan…

(S)pecial-Tier (I've already read the source material or it's a continuation)

Shangri-La Frontier S2: HELL YEAH, WE'RE BACK BABY! More "Let Me Solo Her" the anime is upon us!

Natsume's Book of Friends S7: The boy with zero self-preservation skills and his chunky hard drinking talking cat are back!

DNF (Could be good, could be bad, but my brainworms stopped me from finishing episode 1)

Nothing

[novelmonger]

1-6, 9, 12, 16-19, and 23 for the Rocky Road asks, please?

A book you regretted reading

The Color Purple by Alice Walker. Hated it, hated it, hated it. I honestly see no literary merit in it, and I probably shouldn't have finished it because of the kinds of invasive thoughts it was giving me, but it was for school, so I read the whole thing. I really should have asked the teacher if I could do a different book, but instead I just tried to get through it as quickly as possible. My biggest regret in regards to this book is that I asked my mom if I could burn it (she said no), instead of taking it and burning it on my own. I needed the catharsis.

2. A book you couldn’t finish

Most recently, They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera. If I'd taken five seconds to look at the tags on Goodreads, I would have realized it wasn't going to be the book for me, but alas. Instead I got invested in the characters and read until I couldn't kid myself anymore about the budding romance I didn't want to read, at which point I put the book down.

3. A concept or plot that you thought was squandered in a story

The Dragon's Legacy by Deborah A. Wolf is...not a great book. I could wax eloquent about all the problems I have with her dumb matriarchal desert society, but the biggest shame in that huge waste of time was a really cool idea about these people who have a telepathic bond with big cats. It was a really cool idea, especially when (if I'm remembering right) usually it's only women who can bond with them, but one of the main characters is a boy who manages it. The whole story could have been about that, and it would probably have been much more interesting than the big nothing of a story I slogged through instead that was apparently just setting up the next book.

4. An underutilized setting or world

I am on what is probably a lifelong quest in search of a well-written fantasy based on some Middle Eastern culture. It has to be written well, avoid egregious stereotypes, and capture in some way that particular old-meets-new feeling, that warmth and vitality and history and darkness and light, of the Middle East. All of which is apparently hard to do, because I keep on running into stories written by Westerners who don't seem to have done much research beyond watching Disney's Aladdin. Or it's ruined by an explicit sex scene on like page 5, because that has happened with alarming frequency too :/

5. A character you want to rescue from the story they’re in

I think Kaladin Stormblessed would really benefit from taking a vacation from the Stormlight Archive and getting some intensive therapy :P

6. An author you want to rescue from the story they told

I want to rescue Jack London from The Call of the Wild, which is the one story he's known for. Let's have the world forget about that story for a while and pay attention to the far superior White Fang instead.

9. A character type, plot, or element that you normally don’t like but did like because of the execution

This is probably not what the question is getting at, but it's the one example that's coming to mind right now: The Wheel of Time. There were a lot of characters I couldn't stand as written by Robert Jordan. Like...almost the entire female cast, for one. But then in the last three books, when Brandon Sanderson took over...suddenly I liked them! I ended up crying at the death of one of the characters that annoyed me the most! And that was entirely down to Brandon Sanderson knowing how to write distinct characterization that makes sense and makes you care.

12. A book on hold that you do mean to finish

One day, I will finish The Idiot by Fydoor Dostoevsky. I will! Let's just...ignore how I've been working on it for like half my life at this point >_>

16. A book you hold a grudge against (read or unread)

Fifty Shades of Grey. 'Nuff said.

17. A book that you were spoiled for

I will forever resent Pinterest for spoiling the "Honor is dead, but I'll see what I can do" moment from Words of Radiance by Brandon Sanderson.

18. A book where you like the adaptation or an element therein better than the book itself

The Maze Runner movies are vastly superior to the books, surprisingly. The movies actually tell a coherent story, all the characters are more believable and proactive, and while there's still some eyebrow-raising things about the plot, it's much more satisfying and compelling. The books are weird, man.

19. A book you don’t really like but have kept for other reasons 

I don't really like any of the Ender's Game series other than the first book, but the series should stay together, and I want Ender's Game on my shelf, so the rest of the series is there too :/

23. A highly-hated or derided book you love

I don't know exactly how hated/derided the Jedi Apprentice books are, but just about the only thing I ever hear anyone talking about in relation to them is getting angry at Qui-Gon for leaving Obi-Wan on Melida/Daan during the arc where Obi-Wan leaves the Jedi. Sorry, everyone can die mad about it, because I love that series anyway. Both of their actions make sense in context, mistakes are acknowledged and apologized for and forgiven, and I'll always have a soft spot for those books.

Rocky Read Asks

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Saw your offer and I'm not enough of a horror writer to pull this off perhaps, but you just might be :)

The scene is two field researchers going out to check cameras in the wilderness. It could be day, it could be night, that's up to you. One of them sees a cool plant and pulls out their species identification app to see what it is, as field researchers are apt to do. As a joke, they point the camera of the identification app at their fellow researcher, except it doesn't identify them as human, but rather, some other entity.

That's the prompt! You can take this in any direction you want - maybe the monster eats the researcher, maybe this is news to both of them, whatever you like. I would tell this story to freak out the other field researchers I worked with, so I think having a full version would be awesome :)

You're the best!

Aww, thanks! To be honest, I was inspired by what you did for your 600 follower celebration :)) I do hope I did this justice! It ended up being just over 900 words, hehe

*****

It was a miserable day slogging through the driest bits of the marsh, flies all abuzz around us. The morning had been slated to be sunny, and in preparation of that I had slathered sunscreen all over me and a sunhat besides. Nonetheless, I was drenched in sweat, and all the mosquito repellant in the world couldn't have stopped the army that decided to feast on delicious type AB-.

Pierce was the sole saving grace of it. He might've been a weirdo, at least according to the other interns, but he cracked jokes, helped pull me out of those awful little mires where my foot would get stuck, and hoisted me on his shoulders to grab the cameras. 

All through that walk, we saw not a single bird. It was almost as though they were avoiding something, and in a perverse way, I was grateful for that. In my current mood, I may well have thrown my backpack at any bird I came across, quit my internship, and left to go be a barista.

As we approached the umpteenth camera on our checklist, Pierce stopped me. “Say, what's that little guy over there?”

I stopped and let out a brief grunt of frustration. “Who cares? It's almost the end of our internship anyway- Oh, what is that?”

“It's a plant.” Pierce prodded a leaf experimentally. 

“Yeah, I can tell. What the hell is it?” I'd spent far too much time garnering a reputation for myself as the plant-nerd amongst our group to be confounded by some random little sprout. “Give me a moment, I think it's time to try out that ID app, eh?”

I fished out my phone and aimed it at the plant. “Well, whaddya know? It's not showing. That's odd,” I muttered. “Is it working?”

“Gimme it,” Pierce replies, snatching the phone out of my hands. “Let's see if it can identify you.” 

He froze. A shadow of something flickered across his face, before he plastered a fake smile on. “The latest update must've broken it ,I guess.” 

“Really? Let me see!” I tried to take my phone back, curious. “Did it call me a tree or something?” 

He lifted it up, just out of my reach, and took a step back. His smile grew more brittle, almost as if he were… afraid of me? “No, it's nothing. Ju- Just gonna close the app now, shall I?”

I shook my head. “Tell me what you saw,” I demanded. “What did it tell you I was? I assure you, it was lying.” I don't think my words were very convincing.

Shaking his head vigorously, he shuffled back, before tripping over a root. “Shit!” He scrambled even more, breath coming in little gasps. I could smell the fear in his sweat.

It made me hungry.

“Don't be like that, Pierce,” I cooed, stalking towards him. “It's almost the end of our internship. Be a good boy, and return my phone.”

He tried to struggle, he really did. But I had my hooks into him, and no mere mortal had ever escaped once they were in my clutches. I took the phone and glanced at it.

“Warning: Inhuman entity spotted? Danger level: High? Wowza, these things are getting good.” Mindlessly, I threw the phone into the water. “Perhaps I'll try for a degree in CS after this, get a good look at the insides of software development. At least that way I won't have to go out into the sun so often. Let me tell you: It really does make a girl appreciate her immortality all the more.”

My teeth were starting to protract, the result of being stimulated by- Damn it, the lectures I'd been going to were far too deeply ingrained into me. “Now, before we take down this last camera, let me ask you something: Have you ever seen me in the tapes we took?”

Pierce went still, connecting the dots. I laughed. “Oh, you sweet, sweet summer child. To be honest, I'm grateful you were so naive. I mean- I was certain I'd get caught at some point. A vampire wildlife researcher? That's almost as ridiculous as a vampire retail worker! Oh, but I did it. I think I deserve a treat for that, don't you?”

He struggled against invisible bonds, eyes flitting left and right. His teeth were gritted hard enough to show his jaw muscles, and I patted his cheek.

“Don't worry ‘bout a thing, P. It'll all be over soon,” I told him, baring my fangs. “I'll even make sure to get rid of the evidence afterwards.”

"Don't," he hissed, barely able to get his words past my grip. "Please, Elsie. This isn't you." I showed no signs of stopping, so he played his last, desperate card. "Someone- Someone will find out. They'll catch you."

"We're all alone in the woods, pal. Nobody's gonna find you. Ever." I paused. "Think on the bright side, though. You always wanted to give back to the environment. Now you get to! Your bones will fuel these trees for the weeks to come."

I leaned into his neck, which was already welling up from my little dengue-carrying bloodsucker cousins' bites, and ran my fangs along the artery that popped off out. “I'd say goodnight, but it's still light out. So, good afternoon, Pierce,” I whispered to his neck. “Good afternoon and good bye.”

Then I sank my fangs into his throat and drank him dry.

I think this is worthy of the taglist, so:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @tragedycoded, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@xenascribbles, @unrepentantcheeseaddict, @the-inkwell-variable, @nczaversnick

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)