#currently going through something like this for myself and while i doubt there's anything 'wrong' i still did it

[uncanny-tranny]

To any disabled person undergoing tests to find What's Wrong: I hope your results come back the way you hope and that you receive the help you need. I hope you are not denied care, I hope you are taken seriously even after this, and I hope that you will be taken care of compassionately

[imfinereallyy]

hummingbirds

Steve’s crying on the porch of his parents' house, with a duffel bag and baseball bat, when Eddie pulls into the driveway.

“Jesus, Steve, what happened?” Eddie crouches down to get eye level with Steve. Despite being dark out, the sun set long ago, and the outdoor lights weren’t on. Steve turns to look at his parents' car in the driveway and thinks back to when the lock had distinctly turned shut on the front door. They were around to switch the lights on; they just didn’t care anymore to do so.

Steve is grateful for the moonlight, as he can see the pretty lines on Eddie’s face. Even if they currently curve into a frown.

“Hey Eds.” Steve’s voice cracks.

“Stevie…what happened?” Eddie asks again, this time it’s gently. It cradles Steve and holds him softly. He wishes Eddie’s hands would do the same.

“Did you know hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backward?” Steve sniffles.

Eddie’s face scrunches in confusion, “What? Birds? You lost me.”

Steve pushes past Eddie’s confused face. “They are the only birds to fly backward. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dustin to teach me that out of the munchkins. It was actually El. She’s apparently going through a bird phase. And I don’t think the others are very interested. So I try to pay attention when she talks about it. And she taught me about hummingbirds.”

Eddie settles on his knees, “That’s great, man and those little shits should listen to her more, but I’m not sure what that has to do with what’s wrong. You called me to come pick you up and hung up before I could even answer.”

Steve bites his lip, “Sorry, my dad clicked the phone off.” Eddie’s face shows surprise, but Steve keeps talking before he can interrupt. “And well, I guess hummingbirds have nothing to do with anything. It’s stupid, really.”

“No, no. It’s not stupid. Tell me about the birds, Stevie.” Eddie’s hand finally reaches out to Steve. He brushes the fallen hair out of his face, and something in Steve just sets him off.

“You see, they can fly backward. And well, no, I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, my cousin Tucker is here to visit. And let me tell you, he is the worst. Like Eddie, you would hate him. Conservative, capitalist enthusiast, real bootlicker kind of guy.”

“Sounds like the worst. Especially if he made you use the big words.” Eddie’s hand falls away, and Steve mourns the loss. Normally, when people make jokes about his intelligence, it stings. It makes him feel small. But when Eddie does it, it isn’t mean or a poke at how stupid Steve is. With Eddie, it’s almost like he’s reminding Steve that he is smart. That maybe Steve is the one making himself small.

He is.

“Anyway, he’s visiting, right? So my parents come home. And I haven’t seen them in months, since before spring break. It’s nearly October, and I haven’t seen them, and I can’t tell if I’m excited or dreading their arrival. It’s always a fight when they are around, how I’m not good enough, how I should be more. Their visits always end up being cut short, and me feeling like shit. But this stupid, stupid part of me was hoping it would be different this time. They haven’t seen me since the “earthquakes.” Surely they’ll be happy to see I’m okay, right?”

Eddie stays silent, his face revealing nothing.

“Of course, it’s not. They only came home because my cousin Tucker was in town. All the way from Indy cause it’s so far. And my mom ‘made’ dinner, as in she ordered it and pretended she made it. It wasn’t even that good, but we all pretended it was the best thing ever made. Cause that’s what they do, pretend. And the dinner is fine, boring. Most of it is just me staying silent while my dad and Tucker talk about the business. Tucker runs the Indy office while my dad is in New York. Ya see, Tucker has been gunning to take over for my dad when he retires, which is another word for dies—“ Steve let’s put a bitter laugh; he wonders if his parents are listening. He doubts it.

“—and they are going on for the whole meal, and I’m almost through the home stretch when my dad brings up me, coming to work for him.”

Eddie reacts finally, “You’re going to New York?” His voice is strained, like he is trying very hard not to yell, not at Steve, but at anyone who will listen. Steve is quick to correct.

“No, no, I’m not. This was news to me to Eds. I have no interest in my dad's business, and as far as I was concerned, he didn’t want me a part of it either. Guess that has changed. Has? Had? I don’t know…” Steve trails off.

“Harrington.”

“Don’t call me that. It makes me think you’re mad at me. Besides, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” Steve bites.

“Sorry, Steve. I’m not mad. I promise. Just, what do you mean?” Eddie’s head tilts to the side, his curls cascading down his shoulder. It reminds Steve of a river, dark water rippling in the moonlight.

“I was so shocked, Eds. When he said that. That I was quiet, I should have corrected him, maybe. Maybe I could have fixed it. But Tucker was so quick to act. He was pissed. He knows my working for my dad means me being set up to take over. And Tucker, he’s worked too hard to make sure he does get the business. But instead of yelling, he just gets this concerned look on his face. And he…”

“He what?”

Steve wrenches his eyes shut as he recalls the rest. As he recalls the way Tucker’s face faked worry as he struck. Like he has been waiting for the right moment to ruin Steve. He manages to open his eyes eventually, only to see Eddie’s face once again. The honest look on his face is enough to push Steve on.

“In the summer, Robin was feeling sad. This was before you guys knew about each other, and I was the only one who knew about her. And she was sad cause nothing had happened with Vicky and she felt so alone. And I hated seeing her like that. And so, so I took her to Indy. And, and—“ Steve starts to hyperventilate.

Eddie takes him by the shoulders. “Breathe for me, Steve. Come on, baby, match my breaths. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Steve matches Eddie’s breath. Ignores how the word baby calms him down instantly. “Tucker told my dad that he saw me in Indy. That he saw me come out of a gay club, Eddie. And he went on about how they should focus more on getting me help, than putting me in a power position, again Eds, which I don’t even want! And how I would be a bad look for the company. How would it look if a company whose whole image is family values, only successor, turned out to be gay.”

Eddie flinches a bit, but doesn’t let go of him. Steve feels instant regret. “That isn’t what I meant, Eddie.”

Eddie shushes him, “I know, sweetheart. You’re just upset. I know. Did you tell him that you weren’t there for you? Or maybe that Rick was mistaken; it was a regular club?”

Steve rubs a hand down his face, “And what? Tell him that my two best friends in the entire world are gay? So that I can be shipped off to New York and never see them again? Yeah right. I’d rather face the bats again than be removed from you two. And I’m not going to out you guys like that.”

Something warm crosses Eddie’s face, “So, you lied then?”

“Before I could say anything my dad reacted.”

Eddie freezes, a darkness swims in his eyes. “He put his hands on you?”

“No, no!” Steve panics, and he purposely leaves out the ‘not this time.’ Eddie isn’t necessarily a violent person. But he does have a protective streak. As admirable as it is, Steve doesn’t want him to get hurt.

Eddie relaxes but only slightly.

“He was actually pretty calm, which is even more terrifying. I expected him to yell, throw things. But instead he just turns and says, ‘Is this true, Steven?’. And what gets me is they didn’t even question why my cousin was anywhere near that club in the first place. Why did he see me there? Instead, he just asks me if it’s true. And it’s the first time in a long time, if ever, that my dad asks me this. He always just assumes I’ve fucked up. And this time, he really asked me about the truth. And I couldn’t, I couldn’t lie. I don’t know why, but it felt wrong to. So I didn’t. I just told him, ‘Yes. It’s true.’”

“Stevie…”

Steve throws out a bitter laugh, “And you know what? He still doesn’t freak out. He just tells me I have five minutes to get my shit and get out. That I needed to call a ride because the car was under the name Steve Harrington, and I was no longer a Harrington. And he was so calm. And my mom just sat there, and I just listened. I didn’t fight. I am so tired of fighting.”

“Steve, why not just tell them the truth? Tell them you were there for a friend?” Eddie’s tone isn’t scolding, only curious.

“See, that’s because I started thinking about hummingbirds, Eddie. I started thinking about how they fly forwards and backward and how they are the only ones that can do that. Isn’t that fascinating? These small birds are so strong and interesting, and can do something no one else can do. But no other birds understand; the rest of them just fly forwards Eds. And I—I feel like that sometimes. That I’m not flying in one direction, ya know?”

Steve feels like he isn’t making much sense, but then Eddie nods and looks at Steve. Like really looks at Steve, and sees him. And Steve feels raw, stripped of his skin, exposed, and it should hurt, but it feels so fucking good. And Eddie stares deep into Steve’s eyes and says, “Yea, I know.”

“I didn’t want to lie. Because even though Tucker was wrong, he was also right. I wasn’t there for me, but I think I needed to be there. To get it. And I think that I’m flying backward, Eds. And I’m worried it’s wrong of me, that it shouldn’t be allowed. And that there is no purpose to me flying backward if I can just go forwards. If I can just fly with the rest of them. But I don’t think, I don’t think I’ve ever really taken flight before. Not before I understood I could also go backward.”

It’s in this moment, where Steve is covered in tears and snot that Eddie finally takes his hands and cradles Steve’s face. Steve’s never felt safer.

“Listen to me, sweetheart; there is nothing wrong with you. Okay? Nothing wrong with you. Just because you can fly forwards doesn’t mean you have to, doesn’t mean you should. Sometimes you’re going to have to fly backward; you’re not going to have a choice. It’s just the direction you’re fast, huge, hummingbird heart takes you. And it might take you a bit to learn that. To understand that, but I will make sure that you do. Because you, Steve Harrington, are fucking fearless and fucking beautiful, and I am so goddamn proud of you.”

Steve finally reaches his breaking point and collapses in Eddie’s arms. Full body, ugly sobs wreck Steve. He is sure that he is soaking Eddie’s favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt to the bone, but he can’t find it himself to care. His fingers dig into Eddie’s back as he clutches tighter as his breathing picks up.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. Remember that. I got you. I got you.” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear.

Steve picks his head up when he finally calms down, and looks at Eddie. “You.”

“What’s that?” Eddie says softly, rubbing circles through Steve’s polo.

“I called you. Because, I think—no, I know, that I’ve been flying backward, to you. For a while now. And I knew that, even if you weren’t too, you’d still show up. And I just—just need you to know that. I am so grateful you showed up.”

Steve knows he should feel nervous telling Eddie all this, but he isn’t. He strangely feels like his dad at this moment, calm and unmoving. Steve doesn’t understand many things in this world, but he understands that even if Eddie doesn’t love him like that, Eddie still loves Steve in plenty of other ways.

It’s still nice, though, when Eddie leans forward and kisses Steve’s forehead. Steve closes his eyes and releases a breath.

Eddie slides his head down slightly so their foreheads are pushed together affectionately. “Stevie, I’ll always fly backward to you.”

Although it’s awful how they got here, Steve can’t help but feel happy at this moment. He also can’t help the silly giggle that comes out of him, “I think we have just lost all meaning to this metaphor at this point.”

Eddie snorts, “Oh, have we? And here I thought we were having a nice moment, a poetic one at that, telling each other ‘I love you.’”

Steve blinks at him, “You love me?”

Eddie frown lines finally turn upwards, “Yea baby, I love you.”

“I—“

Eddie cuts Steve off. “Tell me in the morning. When your tears have dried, and I’ve woken up with you in my arms. I want to hear it in the daylight. Okay? Let’s go home.” Eddie stands, offering a hand to Steve.

“Home?”

“Yea home, got to fly back to our nest.”

Steve can’t help the snort he releases, “Dork.”

Eddie just smiles, “Thought I told you to save the ‘I love you’ til the morning.”

Steve smiles back as he takes Eddie’s hand, “I didn’t…”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s fingers, “Yea, ya did.”

****

I’m back, not dead, and in my feelings. Thinking about expanding on this one. I hope you guys like it. 🧡🧡

[grandlinedreams]

Ok I loved the whole reader is Kid’s/Killer’s sister. And I can just imagine her and Kid not getting along, and when the heart pirates and kid pirates run into each other, reader and Kid are like two cats fighting. Then Killer picks reader up under her arms like a kitten, and hands her to Law, all like, “this is yours”.

Could you make this happen please? 😭😭

I told myself I wouldn’t send anymore requests till they went down a bit more, but this scenario wouldn’t leave my head, and I wanted to see it come to life with your words. Asdfghjkl I’m sorry 😅

LMAO YES i loved writing it 🥺 but also don't apologize bb, I got you!!

[Heads up!: semi/non-canon compliant (idk either around Sabaody or in the 2 year ts), established relationship, sibling antics (Reader and Kid), cursing, silliness]

You love your brother, you swear that you do. You've stuck with him through thick and thin and at the end of the day, woe to anyone who tries to hurt him while you're around.

That being said, however, that doesn't necessarily mean that you like your brother or his general attitude towards anyone that isn't part of his crew.

Part of you gets it, truly ㅡ there's been plenty of skepticism and mockery when it comes to Kid and his goal in life. Finding the One Piece is a pretty lofty ambition, but you have no doubts your brother has the determination it takes. He's hostile because of it though, less keen on asking questions and more on the offensive ㅡ and his attitude towards Law's crew is no different.

Perhaps it's made worse, actually, for the fact that you're currently in a relationship with Law. Something your brother knows, and hates. Which is why you've found yourself, predictably, in another argument with him.

Anger boils in your veins as you raise your voice to match Kid's. "Stop treating me like I'm an idiot! I'm a grown adult!"

"Then act like it, damn it!" Your brother snaps back. "I don't have time to babysit you anyways!"

"Nobody asked you to, youㅡ" You yelp as hands hook under yours, your feet leaving the ground as you're lifted up. You know who it is, the only one besides Kid who'd dare to lift you like this in the first place. "Killer, put me down. Now."

The masked pirate ignores your demand, unbothered by the way you squirm in his hold before he sets you down in front of the Law and a handful of his crew, who've been watching this shitshow go down silently.

"This one is all yours," Killer tells Law, hand on your head and ignoring the way you swat at his touch, eyes narrowed and teeth gritted in annoyance. "For now."

"You can't just hand me off like I'm a package," you grumble, "are you that desperate to get rid of me? I didn't even do anything wrong!"

"Not getting rid of you," Killer cuts in, "just giving you some time away from Kid. I think you both need it."

Ever the voice of reason against his captain, Killer has a point ㅡ you could do with a couple weeks (or more) away from your brother and his crew, and who better to hand you off to?

You're sure Kid could think of better (or worse) people to leave you with, but all he does is scowl, silented by the firm steer of Killer back the way they'd come.

You watch your brother and his crew retreat, the scene not unfamiliar even as you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. "How mad do you think they'd be if I stayed with you permanently?"

You don't raise your voice and it's not quite an intentional needle to Kid, but he still comes to a halt and glares at you over his shoulder. "I heard that," he snaps, "don't even think about it!"

You adopt a face of innocence that lasts just long enough for your brother to turn back around, then glance at Law, who tilts his head. "The offer does stand," he says, even though there's a teasing gleam to his eyes that you grin at.

"I don't think I'll be truly leaving my crew anytime soon," you say as Law's own crew heads back towards the Polar Tang, and you wait until they've gone to snag your fingers in the front of Law's shirt, tugging playfully. "But I could be convinced to stay a little longer."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I told my partner to stop bringing up the fact that they're undiagnosed

Submitted: 19/04/2024

(💑♾️)

I've (18FtM) been with my partner Brit (17F) for 3 years now, we met in high school and have since graduated. In that time, I've worked with multiple professional to seek therapy and diagnosis for my multiple conditions, two of them being ADHD (combination) and Autism. Brit along with my childhood best friend were actually the first people to suggest I could be Autistic and should look into evaluation for both, not just ADHD, which I had been suspecting for a while. Obviously I was excited about my diagnosis because I am finally recognised and am able to get accommodations, talk about it outside my immediate circle of friends and accept myself without doubt that I have this.

Immediately after my diagnosis, I started to talk to Brit about how amazing it feels. And how excited I am to be able to have an explanation for a lot of my issues both growing up and currently, accommodations and other things too. Brit suspects they are likely autistic too and used to think they had ADHD before being evaluated, and it returned with a negative result. I still think they feel annoyed about, since they constantly bring up the fact that they don't think the evaluation was accurate because they lied during it to make their symptoms seem less obvious out of fear of the diagnosis at the time. They've tried to ask their mom to be evaluated for Autism, but their mum refuses to, as she has multiple reasons to not believe that they do and refuses to think anything could be wrong with her child. Brit doesn't have enough money on their own to get an evaluation (Mine cost a couple of thousands, and that was on the cheaper end). I have been talking to Brit about my diagnosis for a few days and how happy I am and every time I talk about it, they constantly bring up how lucky I am and that I don't need to brag and saying “I wonder how that feels”. At first, I tried to understand what they are going through because I get what it's like to suspect you have something but not have the resources or the doctors that can properly evaluate you, but after the 5 or 6th time it feels very degrading, invalidating and demeaning. I don't understand why they can't just be happy for me as their partner and not let it reflect on them. I've been thinking about just telling them to shut up the next time they bring it up as it's really getting on my nerves, I feel that I have the right to be happy about the diagnosis and not have to worry about upsetting my partner for whatever personal battles they have going on with them. Furthermore, I do listen to them and comfort them when they're upset about their own experience, but it feels like they're making my own experience into their own. I've been thinking of texting them that being undiagnosed doesn't mean they can invalidate my experience and that it isn't all about them, that they can just be happy for me and that it feels like shit to be happy about something that someone else is so negative about even though it has nothing to do with me. So, WIBTA if I told my partner to be quiet about not being diagnosed

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hours in the Moonlight: Somnolent Gloaming - 9. Strange Characters

Summary: As if Malleus weren’t odd enough, there was Lilia. Someone whom you honestly couldn’t decide if he was on your side or not. In fact, the only things you were confident about, was that he was ancient and that he cared about Malleus, Sebek, and Silver deeply.

Series Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Vampire AU/ series/ romantic/ angst/ angst with comfort/ fluff/ sfw/ platonic interactions too!

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 1268

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

I stretched, yawning slightly as I walked through the hallways of the Diasomnia clan. I’d decided to take a slight break from reading since, as things currently stood, I was getting nowhere.

So far, from what I’d seen, there were no real records about any influx in crazed vampires or vampire attacks that matched the current numbers, which implied that I was currently investigating an unprecedented event.

A rather unpleasant thought considering I had really been hoping I’d get the easy route of this whole mess via old records detailing some sort of historical occurrence along with its causes.

I heard a slight sound and looked over to see Lilia slipping up alongside me with a smile on his face. 

I hadn’t heard the man’s approach, but somehow that didn’t surprise me. There was something odd about Lilia after all. 

Though, to be fair, I’d had very few interactions with him.

 “Are you tired, little one?” His voice was filled with slight humor and distinct warmth that a small part of me wanted to question.

I opted against it, though. Instead, I just shrugged with a slight smile at the short man who was, according to Vil and Rook, beyond ancient despite his youthful appearance, “Maybe a little? I’ve just been thinking a lot about stuff.” 

His eyes narrowed as he smiled, not the easygoing one he’d been wearing before but a more knowing one instead as he tilted his head, “About your place in our world of the night or about the situation at hand?” 

I frowned slightly at his words, not quite liking how close to home they hit. 

I had indeed been pondering how to go about evaluating the Diasomnia clan. Something about the people here made it feel strangely imposing and yet welcoming all at once.

Not in the same manner Scarabia had been, though. Rather, it was more like they were open to my presence here so long as I didn’t do anything wrong. It was just that I didn’t know what the wrong moves were.

As things currently stood, Sebek seemed wary and Silver accepting, while both Malleus and Lilia seemed oddly amused by my presence.

What bothered me more was how he’d mentioned the matter of my place in the world of vampires, though. Because that was something that was often on my mind. 

I was close to Vil, and I doubted anything would ever change that, but I was also becoming more and more a part of this world.

As things were now, I spent more time with vampires than I did with living people. And my relationship with vampires was, as a whole, an odd one.

Even despite the friends I’d already made, I couldn’t trust the majority of vampires. To me, most vampires remained individuals who were a little too excited about the prospects of my blood, while to them I was an executioner.

And then there was the fact that I remained solidly trapped under Crowley’s thumb.

The entire matter was a situation that couldn’t remain as it was. 

For one thing, I was a mortal who would slowly age and die while all of my current friends would live on with eternal youth at the price of a heartbeat and sunlight.

But that didn’t mean I necessarily wanted to become a vampire myself. Eternity was a long time, and dying…. It wasn’t something that I thought about frequently, and though it didn’t really strike me as the most terrifying thing, it also wasn’t something that I exactly longed for.

I glanced over at Lilia, who let out a hum, nodding knowingly as if he could somehow read my thoughts, “To be a mortal in the world of the night is difficult. I often worry for my son due to having the same concerns you hold.”

I frowned slightly in confusion before it clicked together like two perfectly matched puzzle pieces. His son. Silver.

Vil had told me that Lilia had taken Silver in, but I hadn’t realized that it was a father-son relationship, even though Silver had already mentioned his father before.

I tilted my head, curiosity swelling within me, and Lilia immediately chuckled, “It looks like you have a question. Go ahead; I won’t bite.”

He smiled, fangs flashing as he spoke, and I decided right then and there that I did not care for his phrasing one bit. But I swallowed, bracing myself before I spoke, “Just tell me if I’m overstepping my bounds, but…. Why did you take in Silver?”

Lilia laughed, a free sound that had him pressing a hand to his stomach and folding forwards before he recovered and looked at me with brightly sparkling eyes, “I see why Malleus has taken such a liking to you. You really are a bold one.”

His wide eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward with a smile as his voice lowered to something more warning, “Curiosity can be dangerous, though. You ought to be careful, little one.”

Distantly, I felt myself nod as I leaned back with wide eyes, swallowing thickly as Lilia bobbed his head in a perky response. That far-too-clever expression of his disappearing as he spoke, “I adopted Silver because he was alone. His parents were killed a long time ago by a vampire, but he was left. I assume the killer didn’t find him.”

His words were sobering, and I was totally silent as he continued, an odd, almost wistful sort of smile on his face, “He was just an innocent little baby, but I could already tell he would be the sort that would attract vampires to him. Much like how you are. It was a sudden decision that had no real logic behind it, but I took him in as my own.”

Lilia’s gaze slid back over to me, the grin on his face turning mischievous, “You know, Malleus didn’t accept him at first and always complained about raising such a feeble child. As if he hadn't been a pain to raise himself.”

I blinked in quiet surprise at his words. So Lilia had known and cared for Malleus before they’d been turned. Did that mean they’d been turned together?

Lilia let out a nostalgic sigh, and I found myself smiling slightly as he continued, sounding remarkably like a doting parent, “Both of them are good boys, though, and Malleus has changed much since then. I hope you can keep getting along with Malleus, Silver, and Sebek.”

He tilted his head, something flickering in the depths of his eyes that had me frowning as he leaned over, speaking softly and in a surprisingly low voice, “I suspect it’ll be good for all of you before all is said and done.”

With only those cryptic words, he reached out and tapped me lightly on the nose, a chuckle slipping out of him as I blinked in surprise before he darted away. Disappearing so quickly that it was almost like he’d turned into a bat and flown away.

And maybe he did. I didn’t actually know if vampires could turn into bats or not, though Hollywood certainly indicated they could.

But that wasn’t really concerning right now. What was worrying, though, was the raw amount of information Lilia had just told me for no apparent reason. 

He’d told me to be careful of curiosity, so why had he encouraged it?

I shook my head slightly in confusion even as I stared after where he’d disappeared. It looked like the Diasomnia clan really was an odd place. Both imposing and welcoming while also being filled with all sorts of strange characters.

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[histhoughtslately]

I’m Gonna Level with You: I received some new today that tore me down inside. I’m currently writing to you from the restroom where I broke down. This news humbled me and the conversations I had today really made me remember who I am. It also reminded of what I am achieving not just for myself but for others as well.

Kindness doesn’t cost anything. It’s so free. Everyone in this world is going through something. Hardship is everywhere and in every category of life. I was asked, “How do you continue to keep going despite it all?” It’s the love and value I have for myself. It’s the greatness I see in others and what I wish for them to see in themselves. It’s the simplest answer I can give. While I write with tears, there’s no doubt in my mind that the future is bright. I feel it near and the potency of it all is undeniable.

I feel this for anyone who reads this. It doesn’t matter to me who you are, what you look like, what you’ve been through, other people’s opinions of you and so on…

Don’t get me wrong, all that you have been through has shaped you to this very day. However, that strength of light that cannot be dimmed, is the true you. You’ve made it this far; keep going. Don’t let your hardships define who you are. And most certainly don’t let them limit what you can do. Don’t ask me how I know but I know you are going to come out on top like never before. You’ll realize this all wasn’t for nothing.

We all need love and support. Even the ones who shine their light for others need love and support. We should always check on each other but first checking in with ourselves. Community is everything and it’s so needed more now than ever.

You’ll get through this! 💫

[sunyandmony]

I am not fine...

May contain triggering themes, read at viewer's discretion.... All of that blah blah, enjoy- It's wonky and definitely not worth the wait.. And is also probably nowhere near the yandere category, so-- Uhhh.... I failed myself and the people that waited for this-...

(Despite the subtle hints)

"𝙰𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ժׁׅ݊ꫀׁׅܻ݊ɑׁׅժׁׅ݊" |finished BBU drabble|

When was the last time you had actually felt alive? Free? Not tired?....

It has been a long while, and you were just so tired, everything was going wrong in your life. You lost your job just a few days ago, having lost your belongings and now about to lose your apartment because of the rent you couldn't pay to the landowner.

It all started the moment you moved out from your parent's house, freshly having finished college, you had a bright future ahead of yourself if you wouldn't have trusted your coworker as much as you did. It wasn't something you could have predicted, but something you should've avoided instead.

It was currently late at night, you were preparing for bed, but didn't plan to sleep. You never had a good sleep schedule.

Childhood was just as horrible with the constant bullies at your school, it all went down so fast you don't remember when you lost your innocence at all, it was just a flash and then it all happened.

You shake off the rest of your thoughts, laying face first on your bed and grunting in pure frustration, wishing everything wasn't so unfair, so SO stupid and so difficult. Nothing was easy, when you were warned life won't go easy on you, you didn't think it would go this far to get you to the point of losing everyone and everything that you had gotten so far in your short, pathetic life.

A brief thought comes across your mind, and you shake it off once more. You won't regret anything, everything wasn't your fault, it wasn't... It wasn't.

Heavy eyelids threaten to close, and once you yawn they do, the darkness embracing you as you fall into a much needed slumber.

. . .

A tight knot in your stomach made you groan, and the bed felt oddly ticklish against your skin.You felt around yourself before leaning up, blinking several times to adjust to the sudden light and then a burst of darkness shoved your way. This wasn't your bed. An odd sensation filled your body. Nausea. You felt the world spin around you, trying to come to your senses as you took in your surroundings.

Where are you? What kind of weird fantasy, fever dream is this?? You rub at your eyes, stretching and wobbly legs managing to stand on the soft ground, and you did not have shoes on, so it felt odd and moist against your bare feet. You were in a creepy forest, surrounded by huge pine trees that lined all around you, barely able to see anything past them.

Birds chirp from somewhere around you, and you turn your back to look the other way. More trees greet your view, and you squint to see through them to no avail. You give up, deciding to shift your head and look up at the sky. You could just barely catch a glimpse of the night sky, glittering and shiny stars all over, a crescent moon covered up by darkened clouds. From here you could just barely make out a bird flying by, going out of view a moment later.

There were lots of fireflies around here, all around you and the outer sky, it was a beautiful light show while it lasted. Given you snapped back to the problem at hand. You were so lost, had no idea where you were, or how you even got here. Was it even a coincidence that it matched your image from last night? Probably not. Deja vu was such an odd thing to feel at the given moment. You don't remember having a dream as real as this one. And it might not even be a dream. (You wanna doubt that.)

You sigh to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose. Well, this sure doesn't feel like a dream, you can feel your hand, so it probably is a very realistic dream? You hope it is, unless you wanna be stuck here, you better start walking and finding a way out. Though, did you really want to go back to your weird, awful and traumatic life? Not really.

With a reluctant exhale, and a mental push, you slowly made your way forwards, stepping into the thicker, much darker forest that surrounded you. An eerie silence settled over everything all at once, and you knew it wasn't a good sign.

You quickened your pace, knowing it's not safe and trying to find a more open, safer area to rest at, your feet aching at how hard they slammed against the grass and sticks on your way. You wish you hadn't taken off your shoes at the last minute in bed, they would've been so useful right now.

Another reluctant step onwards and you feel as if fainting right here and now. It feels horrible, the aching pain in your feet had grown so much worse, and you were more than sure you had millions of small scratches and bruises all along your ankles and feet. Well, it could've been worse, at least. You could've been bleeding, heck, maybe even being watched.

That wasn't such a good thing to say, you knew from seeing so many movies that the moment someone says something of the like, or even the exact thing, would happen to them. You started to lean more against the trees, trying to not be seen, but it was a useless attempt at stealth.

Crouching down didn't help much either, it only made you slower, and the more you realized it, the more late it was. Everything has its eyes on you, there's no place safe here. Nowhere.

. . .

A minute later you slowly get up, hands clawing at the wood of the tree to stand. Once you took the first step it's all fine, the second you took the second step, a branch cracked under your feet and more than likely left a scar on its own. Great..

All the more, eyes turn to you, and footsteps get closer and closer to you until an animal that you've never seen before, bares its teeth at you and pounces forwards. If it wasn't for your brain, you wouldn't have moved, instead, you immediately started running, almost tripping several times before picking up your pace and running through the thick pine trees, avoiding tripping on rocks or twigs as the animal, only gets closer the more you lose your energy. It was tiring. A faint noise in the distance catches your attention, and you turn to look at what seems to be a river, and without a single thought running towards it.

With a lot of luck, you find your way over more twigs and immediately jump on the slippery rocks, getting to the other side without much problems. You turn your head around, seeing as the animal, now stuck on the other side, slowly backs away from the edge and disappears back into the darkness behind the bushes. God let you live another moment it seems..

For what seemed like hours of leaning against a tree, you finally gain enough strength to get up and slowly make your way further into the forest. Seeing as it is, it won't help if you stand in one place too much. Predators can, and will hunt you down at any cost it seems, not like you didn't expect it, given you're the uninvited guest here.

Not even a moment later you once more get out of the forest and almost trip down the now more than visible hill, which leads down down until you can see a big mansion sitting in the middle of… An intermontane plateaus, that is if your Biology classes were paid enough attention to. You might be wrong, but you'd assume that's what this is, because it's not a ravine…

A knot in your stomach says to just stop being so childish, but meanwhile your inner child is firing up. And which do you choose to listen to? Of course, your inner child.

You slowly lay down and then budge yourself until you start rolling down the hill, having the time of your life and giggling all the way until you reach the bottom and now laying on soft, greenery that tickles your skin with the gentle breeze. The night sky is so much prettier here than in the closed and tight pine forest that you hated for being so awfully dark.

Wait….Night sky? You have been up too long, haven't you? Though it is impossible to tell what time it is…You'd just assume it's late at night… And probably, as usual, past your bedtime hours..

A long moment of staring at the glitter stars in the sky, and with a lot of curses flowing through your body, you sit up, rubbing your eyes to woosh the sleep away. It doesn't help, you yawn and stretch not a moment later. Great, tired, lost and probably homeless too.

You get off the ground, looking at your clothes and picking off some of the dirt or dust(?) that stuck to you, letting that thought flow away. A moment later you realize that the big mansion is indeed still in front of you, you just had to turn your head upwards to realize it. Not like it would grow legs and run away, idiot..

Was this breaking in? You ask yourself, seeing as it is, the doors opened up themselves, you didn't even touch them, they just did- A long moment of contemplating before you overcome your fear and step inside, the moment you do the doors slam close behind you, making your arms flail around yourself, thinking it was someone or something behind you, while it was nothing more than the wind, probably. You hope it was the wind.

Calm down, nothing has even happened yet, chill. You took deep breaths. Was it this cold when you got here? It sure wasn't, everything was so much colder. And you felt eyes on you from every single corner you turned. You started exploring a place that is not yours. You just wish whoever owns this place isn't home or could let you stay for the night.

As odd as it is, all you found were some pictures on a few walls when you walked the hallway to your right. It wasn't much, barely helped, and you didn't feel like touching them or going as far as to steal them. You didn't wanna get some kind of curse on your possible future bloodline. You were better than that, not even the gold was much more than useless, given there's probably no way to spend it anyways.

A sudden shift in the air made you immediately turn to gaze behind yourself, nothing. You're getting paranoid at this point. Well, not paranoid, more panicked of getting caught wandering around someone's house without them letting you in or even giving you permission to look at their(?) stuff whatsoever.

With a sigh, you turn back around to the fireplace, only for your whole body to stiffen and drain like you saw a literal ghost. What you were seeing wasn't that far from one though…

A more than tall as you could tell, creature, bird, whatever, was towering over you, eyes scanning you up and down as you shrinked into yourself. It(?) wore a light pink attire adorned with two swirls in the middle, topped with a shiny object, probably as decor, and a bow tie around its neck. Or at least what you assumed, given it constantly stretched on. It was hard to tell.

Many feathers adored its persona, cartoon-ish wings and what you could guess are its paws(?), again, you weren't a genius, and the Biology lessons weren't useful right now, you forgot them all the moment you graduated. It was black as the night sky itself, glinting in the bare light. Yellow-ish to gradient red, wide eyes stared back at you with a wide smile. Was it thinking of kicking you out? It would be fair though, you did just break into its house after all.

The moment you blinked it disappeared, the second you turned to the side, it was there. "Hoo! Hooho! Well, who are you, little friend?" It speaks right into your ear, once more shifting to be in front of you, into a much bigger form, a finger under its chin as if thinking of something, eyes narrowing the slightest bit.

You blur out your name with a lot of hesitation, looking at your hands and then back up at it. The moment you give it your name, it immediately leaves its thoughts to the side, now to your right, in a smaller size, putting its arm on your shoulder with a grin speaking for itself. ", that's my name, what's yours?" You ask back, perhaps it is rude or very rare, but it immediately perks up even more.

A tilt of its head, "Hooo! Little friend, you should know who I am! But, if you don't, you might as well know me as the party host! Or, if it suits your tongue more, well, Barnaby the owl!" It says, backing up from you and bowing down theatrically, eyes closed only for a moment before shooting wide open again. From this point, it looked somewhat friendly, only if you didn't count the constant staring.

A slow nod comes from you, only with the realization that you barely even meant it. Well, it is probably rude to be barely listening, but at least you know his(?) name now! Which is better than nothing. Why is your mind such a mess at such bad times? It is not worth arguing with yourself right now.

A strange sound fills the space, and you look down at yourself to realize it's your stomach. Right, you've been starving for the past, what, half a day, you'd assume. This gets the attention of Barnaby, who chuckles. "Oooh! Are you perhaps hungry, little friend?" A full on head spin and you barely have any personal space. You nod immediately after, hugging yourself. Well, at least you could trust that he won't poison you, which eases your nerves a little. He also doesn't seem to know the concept of 'personal space' from what you can see. Great…

It was very unexpected how well you got along with this owl, and from what he told you, he wasn't any normal creature you'd see day to day. You already had a feeling he might not be a living being, only being confirmed made it much weirder. Not that it bothered you, it was just, uneasy to know you were right about such a thing. Though he doesn't seem to be in any kind of pain, so maybe you're just overreacting over it.

The more you felt you knew him, the further you strayed from the true reality you came from. The fact this wasn't hell or anything of the like was a confirmation you were indeed not dead, and that it was not a dream. The food here was nice though, even the little 'barnaboos' as you heard him call them, we're such adorable little things to converse with, and somehow able to understand a little of what they're saying. Mostly through simple hand gestures.

It was a long ride, mostly staying up late, but you got through with it and survived. You could feel yourself slipping the more you tried to keep your eyes open, it was probably very late if you were this tired. A long yawn leaves you, and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand almost immediately, excusing yourself which gets a light chuckle from him.

Another blink and he's once more at the back of your chair. You really weren't gonna ask how he keeps doing that, just go along and it'll be better. "Are you feeling tired, lil' friend?" He chirps, helping you up from your seat, offering his wing, which is somewhat much softer to grab onto as you balance yourself. A moment later you let go and stretch out a moment, groaning and then letting out a sigh, arms dropping to your side the next second.

You nod, body slumped over as you follow close behind him. You didn't bother to listen much to whatever he was talking about all the way till he finally led you to the guest room. Well, it seems you weren't sleeping on a couch, which is such a relief.

While he didn't seem like such a threat, you couldn't help the twist in your stomach telling you otherwise and that you had to get away from him immediately or something would happen. That wasn't the case, not yet at least. Which just proves further that maybe your instincts are getting rusty the more your adrenaline wears down on you. Another thing to worry about later on.

Was it just your brain or were you really unable to sleep?... Why is it even odd? You always slept late, but something is just off, aside from the fact that this wasn't your room. It was a bit too fancy, but at the same time not, given you coughed several times from the dust that was in the air. The bed itself, while it was immense and comfortable, your gut keeps telling you to not fall asleep yet, not yet.. Eyelids snap shut, but before you know it, they snap back open, and you look around, trying to find what could've been blamed, of course there's nothing.

A tap on the window immediately makes you sit up, looking around only to see the branch of a tree, which just kept on tapping, the harsh wind blow being the only thing you could hear aside from the tapping. This is too silent, the room envelopes in a much darker blanket once the moon is being hidden away by the clouds, a few small water drops announcing the now oncoming rain. Curtains flutter around from the currents, windows barely open, just enough so fresh air slips inside the room.

Maybe you're homesick. That would explain everything much simply. You turn on your side, hands clutching onto the pillow under your head tightly as your eyes slowly slip close, and the world fades to much more darkness than it was already drenched in. You need a better sleep schedule…

. . .

It's been only a few hours, you don't know how much you slept but do not plan on trying to find out, seeing as the rain picked up, pouring loudly outside, you'd only take a guess that it's been longer than three hours because it's the first time you actually had a proper sleep without being woken up by the alarm clock on your old nightstand, now nowhere in sight.

You rub at your eyes slightly too harshly, hissing the moment you lean your hands away. About time you find your way around here, you don't feel like you slept much, even if you probably did. You sit straight, arms held together and stretched upwards, leaning down till they touch the blanket once more with a slight pop from your bones. Well, that's a much better way to start the day… You can only guess it's day given the outside is just slightly lighter, despite the still ongoing thunderstorm.

A groan leaves your throat as you slowly slip out of bed, strolling over only to find that there is indeed a bathroom connected to this room. Much nicer than going out, you assume. With one last look, you slip inside, taking your sweet time with everything.

About a few slips and pouts later you finally got out of what you could only assume is the bathtub, given how it does not look like one you'd see in a normal everyday life but one nonetheless. A quick brush of your hair and some face washing later it's all done, all you leave behind being the dirty clothes from before and now looking around for something to change into.

As expected, you couldn't find much and so the single thing you found was more of a suit than house wear options. But what other choice did you have? A little later of tidying up the cloth you finally managed to slip it on, tying the bow tie to your neck and opening the closet doors once more to look at yourself unexpectedly liking the outfit and shining looks you gave off almost immediately.

A gradient light blue to purple adored your body, clinging onto you quite heavily. Long sleeves adored with gloves hanging onto your arms, just barely shining in the dim light with the same gradient little details hanging everywhere else. A parted dress hung onto your hips, held by another layer of the dress underneath, looking like leaves or even feathers, white fluff tickling onto the long socks that reached just slightly over your knees. Dismissed heels toppled over in the corner as you pick something easier to wear. Boots that reach over your ankles and go just about a few more inches before ending with fluff all around, a comfortable warmth on the inside of them. Exactly as you liked, well, probably liked. It's been a long time since you wore something fancy unless it was for a party or meet up.

Where were you going anywhere with this outfit? Was something special happening that you probably didn't know about? Most likely that's the case. With a long sigh, you close the closet doors, looking away and at your hands for a long time. Thinking it all over again didn't seem to help. How much time did you spend looking at yourself anyways?...

You ponder to yourself before going out of your room, slamming the door close behind you and not looking back as you walk without a clue where you're going in a way that could only be described as tired.You're tired of anything and everything at the same time, yet you don't dare show it, sliding a neutral expression on your face to make sure it wouldn't be that obvious.

It was however more than obvious that you didn't feel like talking to anyone or anything else around here, except for the little barnaboos that are mostly everywhere, seemingly preoccupied with their own things to pay much attention to you as you passed by each room. A while later of walking down the seemingly endless hallway, you finally arrive back at the front where you have been not long ago. It's eerily silent as each of your steps echoes right into your ear drums awfully louder than you expected.

Each time you take another step, you feel much closer to something you can't quite make out in your thoughts, shaking your head as you bump into something, or someone and scramble back, catching your balance just in time as to not fall and make it even more embarrassing that you were once more with your head into the clouds.

A chortle came from above you, and immediately your hands came up to your face, hiding away your expression that was on the brink of exploding into tears. That is, if the person who made that sound wasn't more than obvious. "Hoohoo! Friend! You're awake- Took you sooo looongg! But that does not matter, you're awake now, and we can finally get going!" Barnaby offers you his fluffy appendage as the world shifts all at once, and in a literal instant you're moved.

You feel like literally throwing up, the knot in your stomach too tight for comfort. A stumble forwards and you're immediately embraced by more soft and skilled wings. A chuckle leaves your friend as you struggle to stand on your own while he just abuses the obvious size difference between the two of you. Once you're turned, wings under your armpits, you just give up and pout in defeat. He let's go once you're settled down, leading you down yet another similar hallway like the many others.

Huge doors welcome you, opening before you have even stepped close enough to touch its split handles. Barnaby slouches over, one wing onto his chest as the other is (probably) pointing towards the immense ballroom in front of you. A snort leaves your throat as you bow back to him and enter the room, and of course he doesn't have to follow much, appearing right above you and giving you another good scare.

Without stalling backwards, you just freeze in your spot trying to look unfazed while you would've screamed. You're doing this just to not give him the satisfaction of another screaming charade that you learnt from experience only makes you more terrified the next time he'd do it again. A minute later you finally snap out of your thoughts, waving them to the side to take in your surroundings.

An immense ballroom the size of a whole stadium greets your eyes. While everything was dark, the decorations alone got you feeling nostalgic about this place. Little pumpkin stickers hung onto strings, different expressions on each individual one, and between each of the pumpkins were spiders of different sizes and shapes, mostly out of paper or cartons. To say the side little stars on the dark ceiling weren't a nice addition was just as false as saying the sun is better than the moon, given both are good.

The stars glowed in the dark, which was even better, the white soft yet bright lights able to be seen from even a long distance away.

Actual real spiders hang around the chandeliers on the ceiling, wood creaking with each movement they make. And even a room that's made of wood can be a ballroom, which is incredible to say the least about. Given most ballrooms you've seen were very shiny and much cleaner, this one was clean, too, but not shiny, and it did not bother you at all. As once again, fancy was not what you wanted, and perhaps this would help you more as to remember why you won't miss the ballrooms back on Earth.

. . .

Why was everyone talking about your friend so lowly at times? Was he really bad or was it just them hating him? You couldn't tell, not one bit and it annoyed you from the inside out. Why? You didn't know, but given he is your first friend after your dreams and hopes crashed out the window…you were probably not even gonna need to guess anymore. It was obvious.

Your past explains everything much more simply than you would if you tried. Your trauma adding up onto anything you do and weighting your choices down. It's awful to be aware of it, but you can't do much about it. Your past speaks for itself once more as your feet move without your command as your blocks out every other noises or voices. A particular spider caught your attention, and you approached its shared webs slowly so as to not alarm it.

It hisses slowly at you before silence takes over once more. The spider is about the size of your whole palm, if not bigger than that. It has almost invisible marks on its back, a swirl and a center point where it stops with obviously eight legs that slowly raise and fall. Something to show it is indeed aware you're there even if it can't see you despite having so many eyes that glow a soft white as well.

You slowly approach until you're just two steps away from it, shaking hand raising hesitantly. You weren't afraid of it, you were afraid of what it could do to you. It slowly turned before climbing into your hand, fitting just perfectly on there. Fangs glint in the low light as it becomes nothing more than a fluff ball now sitting on your palm. You would literally melt if you could.

A silhouette hovers over you. "Oooh~ Getting along with all the guests! Aren't you just the most mannered one!!" A voice you already knew speaks from behind you. You don't have to turn to see, he is already in front of you the second you look up. A quick bob of your head and then you let the spider down back on its webs, strolling away as you're once more led to the middle of the room. There was no one here though.

The particular paws you know as Barnaby's cover your eyes and you're not able to see a thing. Great. "Hey! Shoo! Hands down-" You retort to his actions, your much smaller hands coming to grasp onto his own, doing little to nothing as he doesn't budge one bit from everything you try. The world shifts all too quickly as your drowsy self almost collapses once the darkness drains away a second later.

You catch your breath just as quickly, hands onto your knees as you slouch over. When did the air leave you?? Another sharp intake of breath and you feel still horrible, your sweaty hands not helping by trembling so much. In fact, your whole body is trembling as you look up only to immediately stumble backwards and your back to land on some particularly soft feathers.

The room wasn't empty any more, and it was full of deadly things from which some stared at you as if they could sense they're no longer invisible to your human vision. Another deep breath. Several more ghosts and specters turn around to face you. Where did the vampires come from? This place is definitely cursed, or worse yet you probably are cursed now. Perfect. Your heart races in your chest as you catch your breath and balance yourself. Everyone and everything is staring at you much to your dismay.

A cheery voice fills the space all around you, and as much as you want to cover your ears, you can't bring yourself to do it. "Hoohoo! Gentlemans, ladies and people of all kinds! I, Barnaby, announce as the party host, to welcome our little star guest!" Voices whisper all around you before clapping fills the room as you wish to shrink into yourself as much as you could. That's not possible.

Your brain, instead of running or doing anything, decides it's best to just stay..Until it's over…You were not that weak nor scared.. And without seeing the danger ahead of yourself too..

I got Cola and Pepsi while writing this :>

I'm very sane and fine, totally.. 🧍‍♀️

Did anyone get the reference though?...

@hauntedkonton , @the-host-with-the-most-12 , @ieatsoap1 and whoever else enjoys BBU or just Barnaby- idk🧍‍♀️

[victorianpining]

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @clueless-mp4 (thank you!!!) to answer some questions about my fic writing, this might get a little repetetive as I only currently have one published work, but it gives me a chance to talk a little bit about Vampire Fic which I am always excited to do.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 2, soon to be 3!

2. What's your total A03 word count?

Currently 98k, soon to be 200k (approximately).

3. What fandoms do you write for? BBC Sherlock and its adjacents (Holmes canon and of course BBC Dracula)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

From a Drop of Water sweep by default!!!

Truly though I am still so touched by the response to that story, it has been beyond anything I ever expected and I am so grateful to have written something that resonated with so many people.

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

I do! I get so much joy out of going through my comments, and I try to take the time to respond to anyone who was kind enough to tell me that they enjoyed my writing.

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

I'm a big fan of angst with a happy ending. That said, if you've seen Dracula, you know to expect there to be something bittersweet about the ending of The Stories in Our Veins

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

From a Drop of Water was and is pure wish fulfillment on all accounts.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet *knock on wood* which has been a delightful change of pace.

9. Do you write smut?

The vampire fic has exactly one (1) sex scene.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I am currently! But does it really count as a crossover when two stories were meant to be connected? (Yeah I think so).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, From a Drop of Water has been translated into Mandarin and Russian which is so so cool to me.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not exactly, though when working on the early stages of From a Drop of Water, I solicited a lot of feedback from my beta readers, and I would say the feedback @novaviis offered in particular played a huge role in why that story turned out as well as it did! I definitely appreciated all the help while I was still so new to building a story.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Holmes and Watson forever and always, amen.

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

Thankfully none at this stage, though as you can imagine in a writing process as long as the one for The Stories in Our Veins has been there have been several points where I have despaired of it ever actually getting done.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think my strongest suit is planning out the subtextual language of a story and weaving in references that create interplay between my work and the source text. I've also gained a lot of structural practice with this current story and I think I'm getting pretty good at it! My most niche talent is the written montage, love connecting all the little clues together at the end!!!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Prose itself, particularly descriptions, though I'd say I'm getting better at both with practice. I also have certain words that I mix up with other words that I cannot for the life of me ever keep straight (homophones are the bane of my existence) so I have to be really careful to search those out, and even then my beta readers still find ones I miss!!!

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

I don't think I would do it unless I spoke the language myself, I'd be too worried about getting something wrong.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Actually, I did write one Alice centered one shot for the Twilight fandom back when I was like... 13. I don't think I ever deleted it so it probably still exists out on the internet somewhere, though I have no idea what I might have named that account so have no way of finding it.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Not to oversell it, but I really adore The Stories in Our Veins, and I'm very proud of how it's turning out. I think it's better than From a Drop of Water in just about every way, though I recognize that a crossover with a TV show that only 12 people care about is going to have a lot less of a broad appeal than a TJLC slanted re-imagining of series 4. If you do end up reading it anyway, know that you have my undying gratitude!

I'm tagging @novaviis, @minotaurmutual and @teledild0nix!

[project-if]

{Old}Lyric 1

[…nnect… su…es…l] [..eav…g …… …sel…] [… … …] [..hread …… kn…] [—lcome, 'Reader']

｢—•——•—-——–mhmg｣

H..uh? Whe..re….am I..?

Those were my first thoughts upon waking up on a soft, yet damp, patch of….flowers..?

I…don’t recognize this place.. and this is definitely not my bed.

It doesn’t look like I was abducted either, since my limbs are still intact and unbound.

…Well, no use wasting time, I should start by surveying the area, then—

–—-!

..Just as I was getting up, I feel a sharp pain on the left side of my stomach flaring up.

—Right.. While the wound itself wasn’t anything too severe, those damned bastards….

..no I cut off that train of thought before it could overtake me.

Having a trip down memory lane in a completely unknown situation is a horrid idea.

｢Uhp—!｣ I force my feet on the ground and check my current conditions:

•Earring…Check •Jacket…Intact •ID Tag…Missing •Knife…Sharp •Toxins…Ran out

Thankfully, I still have my knife in working condition if worst comes to worst. And this wound is probably the only thing that could hamper me right now.

Next, I scour at my immediate surrounding. Despite making some noise, it doesn’t appear as if anything dangerous was around me, so I should be relatively safe for now.

As I exhale out of relief, I spot something near the flower bed.

What appears to be small stone monument…

a…shrine? Or is it.. Well, whatever it is, it’s connected to the flowerbed, so I can thank it for that at least. As I put my hands in a praying motion— ——､/^-

—! I could hear sound, faint as it might be, coming from…over there! As I yell within the confines of my own mind, I begin a mad dash towards, what could be other Hyums…

…While trying to distract myself, I try to recount yesterday’s events, but—

[Ex..s. 'Tu.m..l' d..ect..] [Trig..rin. Ta..nt '□'] [Tra...g 'Tu.moil' for 1.00 'Margin'] —Ah …For now, I’ll focus on the present.

By the time I came near the sound, I was able to spot a light at, what I am now certain to be, the end of the tunnel.

My mind was cooling down, yet my throat was tightening up. And with each step I took, both fear and anticipation filled my body, until…

..I felt light enter my eyes and touch my skin, And so, my suspicions where all but confirmed..

A beautiful yet tranquil scenery that my dirt poor mind could never truly comprehend, yet alone do justice to. It’s littered in plants that I could never begin to describe the characteristics of. Not only that, it’s been ages since I’ve last seen any kind of animals let alone breathing ones, not to mention the quantity!

yes…Yes! It’s as if this world was ripped straight from the Fairy tales that I read to sis before bedtime. As if releasing all the tension I was holding on to since I woke up, I—

｢—-fuck｣

…Let slip my feelings on this dread inducing mess.

◆◆◆◆◆

Despite the O’so 'wonderful sight' before me, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

…Scratch that, It felt as if I’m the one who’s in the wrong here…wherever here is.

It doesn’t look anything like home or anywhere near it for that matter. And I doubt it’s outside of..of…

｢—fhuua｣ …Of course the name is escaping me now.

Either way, compared to that sea of 'gray' This is probably closer to a 'green'

Well…I can’t even be sure with the 'Colour Taboo' and all.

—-Aahh For now, let’s stop meandering about and move somewhere where I can rest..

As I trudge my way through this unknown forest, I pass by what appear to be berries. They were small, barely the size of my thumb.

I would’ve eaten them if they didn’t glow when I approached them…

Next, I passed by a weird tree, it was a white reminiscent of clouds and just like them I felt I could go through it…but I didn’t have the leisure to mess around.

Just as the pangs of hunger were seeping into me—

—frssh The rustling of grass alerted me to a presence. Just as quickly, I muffled as much sound as I could, minimized my movements and 'killed' my intent.

And there it was, my meal for the night!

It looks like a..rabbit, if I remember right. Looks like it’s alone too, probably got separated from it’s group.

But that just makes my job easier. Plus it doesn’t look like it’s poisonous either, but just in case, I’ll slowly cook it’s succulent meat until I can be certain that it can’t contain any poison, then I’ll chew the meat till the juice starts to flow, and—

—-groooowwwl

…..

….

…

[The 'Rabbit' tried to flee!] ｢Oh no, you don’t!!｣ [█ began giving chase!]

As much as I want to admonish myself, I don’t have time to waste, so I’ll do it later. For now, let’s observe it’s movements, then create an strategy.

While I did think that. It’s movement were pretty primitive, just some dashes and zigzags mixed in. The only problem would be it’s speed.

But, I’ve already had a plan in mind.

While picking up some stones off of the ground, I 'ready' my knife in my free hand.. ｢-here goes…｣ ..and throw the pebbles at the rabbit.

As a matter of course, it reacted to it by leaping into the air.

Just as I wanted..! ——–fwoooooeeeep

Next, I let my knife leave my hand, straight into my prey, it rea—

-—As if to spite the world and it’s reason.

The air dented around its hind legs

While anyone else would be confused, I-

｢—-already expected that!｣

Yanking the thread attached to my knife, I forced both it and the 'Shade' to collide.

While it’s not enough for it to die, it’s ample time for a killing blow..

sliiik— ..before I knew it, my first hunt was finished and—

｢—Aah, I miss sis…｣ Let my dignity slip without noticing.

【Awake and prepared】

[gen-writes]

Writing and Self Doubt

unfortunately this post is gonna be a little bit of a downer, but i’ve been really struggling with my self image lately (honestly in all areas — physical, mental, creative) and i want to address this in case any of you guys are experiencing something similar.

i feel like writing is romanticized a lot of the time, and for the most part, it’s really not accurate. the hot mug of tea, classical music playing in the background, sitting at your desk in flickering candlelight with a notepad at your side. in reality, that vibe is only matched once in a blue moon for me. 99% of it is me hunched over my computer screen, dehydrated but too into my work to get up and get a drink of water, mumbling to myself like a madman, aaaand…only writing about two sentences an hour.

all jokes aside though, i’ve been stressing about my career path lately. i’ve still got time to figure it out, but i know for an absolute fact that i want to be a published author and it scares me that i can’t guarantee that it’ll happen. what if all of this time and energy and thought that’s going into my book ends up as a finished manuscript gathering dust on a shelf? or worse, what if i give up on it entirely? what if i start querying and never get an agent, or get an agent but never sell my book? what if i’m not good enough?

that’s my biggest writing fear: what if i’m not good enough, and what if i’ll never be good enough?

story time: i was looking through my manuscript today, excited to continue a scene i’ve been working on, but the second i looked at it, i felt like crying. i didn’t like anything i read over. it sounded childish and unprofessional, and immediately a thought popped into my head: “you actually thought this was good?” this story that i’ve spent years putting my heart and soul into just isn’t everything i’d dreamed it would be. sure, some days it is. but other days, it sounds like my writing from five years ago and i doubt that i’ve made any progress.

but here’s the point of all this: i know i want to be a writer. i know i want to be published. no, i can’t guarantee that i’ll make it in traditional publishing, but that’s always been and always will be my dream, so i can’t give up on it just because i feel down. basically, stick to the age-old “if you don’t try, you’ll never know.”

if you’re currently doubting your writing, let me tell you something: it isn’t perfect. neither is mine. honestly, i don’t believe in perfect writing, and i also don’t believe in labeling your work as “not good enough.” not good enough for who? yourself? a publishing agency? a reader? art is and always will be subjective, and sure, there are definitive rights and wrong and goods and bads to the craft, but there’s a mix of all of that in every piece of writing.

i can’t tell you if your writing is publishable, or even if it ever will be. the one thing i can say for certain, though, is that you’ll never get better without practice. that means letting go of the writing romanticization, sitting down with your laptop, and getting to work. it means being your harshest critic while also realizing that your writing doesn’t define your worth and is always improving.

this was more a message to myself than anything. i find it easier to take my own advice when i put it into words, so this was a mouthful lol but thanks for sticking around. keep writing and working hard besties <3

[keefwho]

July 01 - 2023 Saturday

8:30 AM

I think today I just want to succumb to my struggles. I’m tired of fighting right now, every weekend is like this. I don’t feel like thinking about it or trying to do exercises for it. Maybe talking about it would help but there is no one to listen currently. I also hate to bring up the same problems after I said how much better I felt talking about them and thats all I needed. Turns out I need to talk more because one little chat isn’t going to make things magically better. The things I need to get over require constant effort. 

Today I have to my finances and do my grocery list but after that I dunno. I’m meant to work on a drawing but I don’t know if I want to today. I know under no circumstances am I to sad post on Twitter or in anyone’s DMs because I’m tired of getting my ‘fix’ that way. It’s not fair to anybody to put my shit on them. The only problem with this is I don’t know what is actually a healthy amount of accepting support. I know I use it as a crutch but there is a healthy balance somewhere. I think I definitely need to stop trying to make it obvious I’m upset with the expectation that someone will help and instead I should just hit up someone for help directly and hope they oblige. I usually just act out until I get attention, thats what I need to stop doing. I’m an adult, I can approach others to handle things in a more mature way. 

9:01 AM

I feel like I’m always going to end up alone. 

I remember with tackling my anxiety, a big part of it was proving my irrational fears wrong over and over. Right now my irrational fear is that I am not worthy of love, but I can’t disprove that one. It’s not like I have some amazing support group of friends that constantly show their support. It’s not like I have even 1 person who goes way out of their way just for me. I feel like everyone’s side bitch. I can’t convince myself that I am anything more. I don’t get what I need to be able to do that. 

9:27 AM

I’m trying to remind myself how I promised I wouldn’t doubt someone’s commitment again. I think that was an irresponsible promise because while I felt that way at the time, I cannot predict how irrational and wrapped up in my own thoughts I will become again. It felt important though because at least for a little bit, I was without doubt. It’s also a reminder that I was explicitly re-assured I wouldn’t be abandoned and I didn’t take that as a lie. It’s evidence I should be able to use against myself to put my mind at ease. 

I’m wondering how I can get over this. I was under the impression that this needs to be resolved with the other party but can I get over this myself? Am I going to keep hurting myself bottling this up until I can get it out? I know I should at least try to treat this like a personal issue first. 

I hope today I get some spontaneous perspective on myself because I know I must look very unappealing right now. 

9:51 AM

What I’m going through right now has nothing to do with anybody but me. I know what my goal is and what it’s like to be who I want to be. I’ve been there briefly. It’s someone who has a firm understanding of himself and his relationships. Someone who can trust that his friends are always there and doesn’t need constant re-assurance to believe it. He can clearly see the value in all the time spent together, memories shared, and feelings exchanged. Right now I know I am deep in my own head and that no external influence will cure it. As much as I want to be saved, I know from experience getting what I “want” will not help. I have what I need already, I just need to figure out how to accept it. 

I feel bad because all I want right now is any attention. Because I have such a fierce commitment to others and I put in the energy to always show my deepest appreciation but I often do not get it in return. I never have, from anyone that I can remember. Is it not a common thing? Am I doing something wrong? Do I give too much or expect too much back? I don’t know what the problem is. All I know is I want more. But do I need more? 

If my affection is genuine then the best thing I can do is make sure I’m not being a drag. I have to take care of myself. Sure it would be nice if help was offered but sometimes it won’t be so I have to be the only thing that holds myself up. It is truly selfish of me to be expecting anything back at all. Love is about giving and accepting, not giving and taking. Right now I am trying to take and I’d rather not pursue that. If I need to for my own sake, I can stop giving. I know right now whether it be my fault or otherwise, I am hurting. I don’t have the capacity to give any more right now but thats all I ever try to do. 

Im also starting to echo chamber in my own thoughts so I need to stop thinking so much. I NEED feedback in order to continue otherwise I’ll just get further and further from reality. 

10:30 AM

I cling onto others because I’m afraid to face myself. Because I’ve become nobody. Because every time I try to evaluate myself, it breaks my heart to see what I’ve become and the enormous amount of work it will take to change it. 

No matter how I feel, I have to carry it with me. I’m not meant to put effort into making the feelings go away, that is impossible. I’m meant to put effort into acting in line with who I want to be despite how I feel. 

11:27 AM

I’m just doubting everything about myself today. What are my redeeming qualities? 

Im so fucking depressed and lonely. I don’t know what to do.

I really, truly, with such a deep passion, hate myself.  I don’t think I deserve happiness.

Why is every single weekend so depressing

I think it’s because I realize how much I am really alone. It proves to me how I truly am not important to people like I want to be. If I was I would have their attention. But everyone has something better to do than think about me. Im not really important to anyone. Its so painful to awaken to this fact. 

12:05 PM

I’ve never been closer to wishing for death. I see no hope. It would be so much easier to just stop everything. I can never see myself getting the love or happiness that I want. So whats the point

1:39 PM

I feel absolutely terrible trying to take care of myself. It’s Saturday, my tummy hurts, and all I wanna do is play Halo or Red Dead and chill. But the weight of my responsibilities weighs on me. I know it’s not a big deal but I said I would finish a picture this weekend but that’s only gonna happen if I feel better. I don’t wanna do it like it’s a chore. Maybe I should stop scheduling weekend projects because that turns them into chores. The weekend is supposed to be for me. I know how much I need self care and self discovery. I can’t do that if I’m dedicating my free time to more chores. 

1:53 PM

I hate suffering alone. 

8:09 PM

Keeping things to myself really sucks, but I think it’s for the best. Unless someone asks of course but I don’t want to impose right now. Im already starting to get worked up about going to town tomorrow but thats just because today I have been physically unwell. If I happened to feel like this tomorrow morning then I would consider that a valid reason to not go. I pray I feel okay though because I know I need to do this and that it won’t be as worrying as I think. I’m just spiraling a little bit like I used to, but this is new territory for me. My growth has been based on keeping track of patterns and overcoming them but there are no patterns to a brand new problem. 

[usagifuyusummer]

Same lmao 🤝

I also, I guess, lack confidence in myself to create coherent fiction or Picasso level art.

I always doubt myself a lot when undergoing creative processes that it makes me abandon a lot of projects that I thought I could publish. It is also due to me still studying that I couldn't exactly fulfil my creative needs and projects to my full heart's content.

BUT, you gotta start from somewhere right? So, for now, just write something, anything, that you feel like sharing. And eventually, you'll learn from your mistakes and get better at posting these kinds of stuff.

I'm also kinda new at creating these AU stuff. I usually just do fanart, but sometimes not all of your ideas can go through visually. (That takes a lot of time. That's what I learned.)

So, now, I just post fanart/any kind of art whenever I can, even when I know it won't get much reception or views. Just think about these activities as practice rounds and maybe someday, one day, you'll be able to reach the heights that you dreamt of. So, start somewhere!

I'm also like you lol, just with less time to spend on my creative projects. I know practice is boring, but that's where most people who are as talentless as me get a start on.

Most importantly, for me at least, I've learned to never chase for online popularity/shares/likes when creating any form of art. If you only create art for that singular purpose, it gets exhausting and steadily you will lose the interest in the art of creation. (these are one of the reasons why i'm really inactive in the past, also uni stuff lol)

Don't get me wrong, it's still really gratifying to see that people appreciate your hard earned work, but not all of us get the lucky ticket that is to be recognized and loved by many. So, some of us just gotta live alone with obscurity for the rest of our short lives. (that's just my cynicism talking lol)

What I'm trying to say is I guess, you should do this because you love it. You care about it, and you want to share your love for this concept with others. I'm doing that currently, and so far, I can at least produce and share some artworks. Even if its not perfect.

It's okay. There's still time to learn. Success/Popularity doesn't come immediately for most people. I hope you get my points here regarding fanwork creations lol.

Besides that, on your horror FOP AU, it's essentially a video game AU? Am I understanding it wrong? Like those old creepypastas? Where maybe..., I'll give you an example;

One day, Timmy found an old game cartridge when visiting the game store for the new Crash Nebula game. He thought the cover looked plain and boring, it's just a cellophone tape plasted and on top of it where scribbled phrases made with marker written, "FAIRY FRENZY", scribbled below that, is a very unimpressive ominous description, "do not play this game it will haunt you". Timmy, suspecting that this is just someone's stupid attempt at a prank for some poor fellow in the past decided to just buy the old game cartridge. It's cheap and his parents don't really check up on what he buys anyway.

Skipping through...

After a while of playing the Fairy Frenzy game, Timmy found out that it was just a regular platforming game, kind of similar to the Mario Bros. ones. He actually finds the game to be fun, so he continued on indulging himself on playing the game to his heart's content.

Skipping through...

Timmy finds it weird that Cosmo, Wanda and Poof haven't returned from Fairy World though. Maybe this is one of their "a week leave" trips there. Still, he has been playing the game for quite awhile and found it peculiar why everything was so... quiet. He decided to go downstairs for a quick snack from the kitchen. When he stepped into the hallway outside of his room, suddenly all of the lights in the house went off. Then he hears..., a voice..., "Cosmo, Wanda... why did you leave me?...". Hearing that, Timmy called out to that voice, "Who's there?! Uh, if you guys are pranking me again, I will talk to the April Fools fairy for double payback!!!". The voice did not respond. Timmy then just decides to shake it off as some sort of hunger induced hallucination. He has been spending too much time in his room lately...

Like that? Tell me if I'm massively wrong lmao. I wrote all of those examples on a whim lol. Maybe it will be a future stupid ass fic hahaha.

Hm, I do think you need more work on your elaboration of the AU. Maybe make a separate post with the appropriate horror AU title? Take your time though. There's no need to rush these creative processes lol.

I'm more neutral on FOP's popularity standing on other social medias though. I have no desire for it to be as popular as maybe Danny Phantom? Still, I won't mind if it gets popular though.

(It's because I hate Twitter/X lmao, so sorry. I don't like how the fanarts or posts there are so difficult to find. There's no appropriate tagging system, even if its there, most people won't use it because yeah, I understand they want their privacy... Still, I would appreciate your art more if you tagged it properly on where I can find it.)

Hm, those are my thoughts on what we're discussing so far.

A scandalous episode for many, which in my opinion changes the general image of fairies (clearly not for the better)

Many people were shocked, to put it mildly, after watching this episode. And many were unhappy and even more frightened by the behavior of Cosmo and Wanda, which I can't help but agree with. However, I liked this episode on the contrary. It shows the darker evil nature of fairies and how crazy they can sometimes become if someone simply offends their child. And it doesn't matter that this is their godson. Because of this, it now really seems to me that fairies are not who they pretend to be and the creators sometimes directly show this. For example, this phase of fairies at 2 years old(terrible twosome) when they start to go crazy and rebel against everything. You will say that "it's just a phase." Really? And the fact that Poof almost destroyed the entire Earth in this episode is considered "just a phase"? The fact that fairies can destroy all life just because of this phase begins to worry. Like, what makes them do all these terrible things? A sudden change in behavior or ….. an inner voice inside that is their secret dark essence??And if you remember the anti-fairies who are the complete opposite of fairies, then I'm starting to seriously think that they are less dangerous than them. And this is not the only scandalous episode…

(Poor Timmy… What the heck??)

And going back to that scandalous episode, I had a thought: "what if all this was true?" Because Cosmo and Wanda were enjoying this suspiciously so much and it all looked extremely realistic.. And the fact that they really left Timmy with injuries and bruises made me think that this is true and they really turn into monsters after 8 hours. And you know what? This would be a great idea for more lore between fairies and anti fairies (they, as opposites in THIS way, would look incredibly cool). And it would also be a great idea for creating some kind of horror game (well, just a note)

*Redacted

+comments to this episode

This is really.. something….

[bi-bard]

Taylor Swift Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Joel Miller - Joel Miller Imagine [HBO's The Last of Us]

Title: Taylor Swift Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller X Reader

Word Count: 2,441 words

Warning(s): fear of commitment, argument, mention of fight

Author's Note: I'm think there's a pattern of me using "cowboy like me" for stories involving Pedro Pascal characters.

Also, just a quick reminder that I write for a gender-neutral reader, so no matter the plot line, anyone can enjoy this.

**Not intentionally written in chronological order**

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

Daylight

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you I've been sleeping so long in a twenty-year dark night And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

It had all been a bit of a blur.

One moment, I was walking with Joel. We were talking about the jobs we had been assigned. Relaxed and calm and as close to normal as we could get in the current world.

The next moment, my memories get lost in a huge jumble of yelling and fighting and fear. It was all such a mess. A terrifying mess.

My next clear moment was dragging Joel down the road with me. I didn't stop moving until we had gotten inside and the door was locked.

"I'm so sorry," I mumbled as Joel sat at my dining table.

It had been my fault. At least, partially.

It was all a long and very messy story.

Joel knew the whole thing. I think that's why he was so fast to entertain the whole fight.

Not that I ever wanted him involved. In all honesty, my life would have been so much easier without ever thinking about any of my life before the outbreak... as backwards as that sounds.

"Not your fault," he muttered, looking down at his knuckles.

"Except it is," I moved to sit in the chair next to him. "This wouldn't have happened if you never met me or if I just kept my fucking mouth shut. Now, you're hurt and fuck knows what we're gonna have to deal with now. Shit, I should've been smarter about this-"

"Stop it," he cut me off. "You did nothing wrong. Your ex having his head stuck up his ass is nowhere near your fault."

I let out a sigh as my eyes closed. I shook my head before pushing myself up. I grabbed my little first-aid kit and made my way back to the table.

I grabbed his hand.

"Why'd you do that," I asked. "Nothing good can come from shit like that."

"I doubt he would've let me walk away without getting a few blows in."

I did my best to clean the small cuts along his hand.

He didn't speak up again until I was wrapping the bandage around his hand.

"Y'know...," he started and trailed off. I looked back at him. "Never mind. It's nothing."

"Tell me," I pushed.

Maybe some part of me knew what he was going to say. Maybe I was desperate to hear it out loud. I would like to think that this is why I pushed him to say it out loud.

He let out a small sigh as he seemingly weighed the consequences of his actions.

"There's something else," I continued as I placed his bandaged hand on the table. "You just told me. Why did you do it?"

"Because I love you," he admitted.

I had to bite my lip to keep my smile from getting obnoxiously big.

We had been together for a while now. We had gotten through many days in the hell that was the modern world today. But in all that time, those words hadn't found a place in our lives.

I felt like a teenager again for a few moments.

"Did you get stuck like that-"

I reached forward and smacked his arm in response. He grinned at me.

"I love you too," I said after a pause.

He looked down at the table to hide his smile.

I reached over and placed my hand on his.

For just a moment, it felt like real peace was more than just a far-off dream.

The Way I Loved You

Breaking down and coming undone It's a roller coaster kind of rush And I never knew I could feel that much And that's the way I loved you

It was all such a mess of a situation.

I had never planned on interacting with Joel again after we had separated. I knew that it would've been unrealistic to try to never see him again, but I could always turn the other way and leave.

Now, I was being forced into a situation where the only person I could interact with was Joel.

It was like the universe was attempting to play some stupid practical joke on me and I was failing to see the punchline.

I followed Joel and Ellie back to Joel's place. The only thing we could do at the time was wait for the time to pass.

I dropped my bag on the floor next to the couch before plopping on the seat that pretty much used to be designated as mine. I tried to keep an eye on Ellie without making it seem like I was staring. She went to sit by the window while Joel sat right next to me.

"Kid," I spoke up. She looked at me. "You should get some rest now. You aren't gonna get much of it later."

"Where," she asked.

I pointed behind me. "Mattress in the back."

"She's not sleeping on my bed," Joel interjected.

"I don't wanna sleep on his bed," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "He probably stinks."

I rolled my eyes before grabbing the spare blanket and throwing it to her. "To prevent the spread of germs... and protect against the smell. Now go."

She walked into the back without another word.

I sighed and relaxed into the couch.

"You should take your own advice," Joel muttered after a minute or two. I shook my head. "I'm serious, (Y/n)."

"I am just fine," I looked at him. "Never needed much sleep to function anyway."

He ran his hand over his face. "Always so damn stubborn."

"Can we not start this," I asked. "We've got enough to worry about without biting each other's heads off."

He sighed and looked away.

"You used to appreciate my stubbornness, anyway," I added.

I heard him chuckle. I felt a small grin pulling at the corner of my lips.

"You think we can do this?"

"Don't know," he shrugged. "I doubt we have much of a choice. Just gotta be ready to go."

I nodded. "You're scared, aren't you?"

"Scared? No. Annoyed."

"It's okay if you are," I said. "That's not a bad thing. It's just human."

He looked over at me. "Don't assume that you know how my mind works."

"For fuck's sake," I mumbled. It was my turn to run my hand over my face. "I just asked if we could avoid doing this. I was trying to comfort you. Be helpful. You have no reason to snap at me like that."

"No reason?"

"Yeah, no reason."

"What about you leaving?"

My jaw clenched. "You told me to go."

"You made no attempt to stay."

"I made an attempt every fucking day," I snapped before quickly lowering my voice, glancing back to make sure Ellie wasn't shifting around. "I fucking loved you, Joel. I fought to hold onto you with everything I had. You got scared and threw me out. After everything you promised me, after everything we did."

He didn't reply as I deflated into the couch cushion.

"Don't try to claim that I didn't try to hold on. I still feel like I'm clinging onto any part of you that I can find."

I looked out the window to the sun. I wanted to focus on anything else.

I missed him. God knows that I had missed Joel. Every day. Waking up without him was awful. Having to turn around and walk away because it was all I could do to keep myself from crumbling was hell. I just wanted what we had back.

"(Y/n)," he muttered.

I closed my eyes for a moment, not turning my head.

I felt the couch shift as he moved.

His hand touched my leg. "Please, look at me."

I turned my head back to him.

There was a pause.

One where we were sitting in silence, watching each other's reactions.

Joel seemed to hesitate for a moment before he leaned forward.

I froze for a moment as he kissed me. It was such a soft moment, yet it completely overwhelmed me. I had missed him so much that it hurt. That wasn't new. I had known about that pain for a long time now.

But what I didn't know was the way that the pain could be numbed. It was like a warmth spread through my chest, pushing away any pain, even if it was just for a little while.

I slowly kissed him back, feeling muscle memory take over as my hands reached out to touch his sides. Too long. It had been far too long since I experienced something as monumental as this moment.

I leaned back slowly, only moving far enough away to speak, "I love you."

He paused for a moment. I watched his eyes scan every part of my face. I couldn't tell if he was trying to see if I was lying or if he was trying to confirm that I wasn't some illusion his mind had created.

"I love you too," he muttered after a bit. I smiled at him.

His forehead rested against mine. We just sat there for a little while.

Through all of the chaos and the bullshit, I knew that I would always want him.

I just needed to keep a hold of him.

cowboy like me

And the skeletons in both our closets Plotted hard to fuck this up And the old men that I've swindled Really did believe I was the one And the ladies lunching have their stories about When you passed through town But that was all before I locked it down

Neither one of us planned to have that conversation that night.

It was late. Really late.

It was one of the first times that I had stayed with him for the night.

It was nice. Being around him usually was. But no matter how nice it was, I could not get myself to fall asleep.

It wasn't a new thing for me to not feel comfortable falling asleep. I didn't expect lying next to Joel to change that.

I let out a sigh as I rolled over.

My head ended up on Joel's chest as I let one of my arms fall over his torso. I didn't even realize that I had brushed a scar until he flinched. I pulled my hand away, moving my head so I could look at him.

"You okay," I asked.

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Did I hit a fresh wound or something?"

"No," he shook his head. "You just have cold hands."

"Never bothered you before."

He chuckled.

I sat up and looked at him. "Are you sure that you're okay?"

He sighed. "(Y/n)..."

"I'm just worried about you."

He didn't respond.

He made no effort to stop me as I reached forward and moved the blanket off of him. I furrowed my eyebrows at him as I tried to figure out what I had bothered.

It took me a second, but I eventually moved my hand to lightly touch a scar on his side. He tensed.

"Sorry," I muttered. I pulled my hand away. "What... What's it from?"

I felt like I was watching the scales tip in his mind. Pros and cons changing the balance.

"I'll... I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours," I offered.

He reached out and touched my leg. I placed my hand on his.

"Deal?"

He nodded. "Deal."

I grinned and shifted to get comfortable.

That's when I first found out about Sarah. He told me everything about the day of the outbreak. The panic and the crash and the soldier. I held his hand through all of it. I felt a need to commit every sentence he spoke to memory. I needed to know this all because that was the only way I would be able to properly help him.

"Your turn," he muttered after a moment of silence.

I blinked at him a few times before slowly nodding. "Right."

I took a deep breath. I felt him tapping his fingers against my hand.

"You... are not gonna like this sentence," I started. His eyebrows furrowed. "Technically... I am... married."

"What-"

"Let me get through the story first," I stopped him. "It was a while ago now. I... I was convinced that we were in love. The day that the outbreak happened, we had been inside all day. Our neighbor had broken in... he was infected. I just remember the angry look on his face. It made me sick.

"My husband and I took off. We drove for a while. I can barely remember where we were even trying to get to. I just remember ditching the car in the traffic and taking off on foot.

"We... We got cornered by one of the infected. There was this hole in the ceiling of this building. He climbed up first and I couldn't get up there and instead of helping me up... he thanked me for saving him and took off."

There was a pause between us.

"He sounds like an ass," Joel commented. I chuckled. "How did you get out?"

"I found this old bat. A solid one. I had never fought anything, really. I yelled when I hit the thing over the head. Screamed. I kept thinking about how that person had a family and friends and how many of them could be dead. After that, I hid away until I could safely get to a QZ."

Joel nodded. "Did you ever find out what happened to your husband?"

I shook my head. "And I don't want to. I hate to wish death on someone, but... he kinda did that to me... to my face, so... I hope he got his ass kicked."

"So, you're only married..."

"Because the government's been a little too busy to figure out divorce court right now," I shrugged. "And I have no desire to track the bastard down again."

"Good," he mumbled.

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"If you stuck with that guy, then we would've never happened," he explained.

"I see."

Joel pushed himself to sit up.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you any of this before," I said.

"Can't say that I'm too upset," he replied.

He slowly leaned over and pressed his lips to mine. I slowly kissed him back, grinning against his lips.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something that I could let myself hold onto in this shitty world.

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

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[0t0mie]

hi tomie, recently I’ve been using tumble less & less as I want to start manifesting my desires! currently I’m manifesting multiple things at once so I’ll be using blanket affirmations. I just wanted to make sure I was doing everything ok, this is how’ll I’ll do it change my state, affirm & persist & let thoughts fly away but also I also remember the bad moments so when I do I always go back to my state! I’m not sure if I’m doing something wrong ? I’m sorta scared I won’t get my desire because I truly believe I don’t deserve it.

i think it's important to remember that you're never stuck in a state. you move through them and occupy multiple throughout the day. when you notice you're not in your desired state, there's no reason to freak out. simply bring yourself back. it can take time at first to get used to such a drastically different state because changing your whole life affects you more than something like getting a free coffee. i'm not saying it's any harder to manifest!!! but, it can take a while longer to get used to (key word *can*), and that's okay! that's exactly why we persist. we continue to bring ourselves back until it feels so natural, we have no doubt that what we desired is ours.

for the last part anon, it's very common to feel this way. when i was in a similar position, i had to sit down with myself and really realize that the only person stopping me from getting what i wanted was me. no one else, just me. i was scared and fearful that i would never get my desires because i had known about manifestation for so long and "nothing had worked yet". i wasn't trusting the law, i had no faith, i had no consistency, i would rely on the 3d and motivation. and all of it stemmed from that fear. it's important to recognize that you create the fear, just like you create the desire, the lack, and the fulfillment. if i could create the fear, then i could also create the happiness. so i started having discipline. and now anytime i desire ANYTHING, i instantly give it to myself. it took time, but no journey is alike or linear. i began to see every moment as growth and was gentle with myself.

you deserve to feel good!!!!! you deserve to fulfill every single desire, no matter how "big" or "small". you just need to trust yourself and have faith in the law. DARE to assume.

here are some things i really recommend you to read anon<3

feeling unworthy is a self inflicting punishment

he who will not live in love must be subdued by fear

[puffpasstea]

Matilda

 A/N: HELLO! Posting this a day early because, I shit you not, my family showed up unannounced from out of town , so I won't have time to post this tomorrow. This is also why I didn't proof read the whole thing. Sorry for any typos. Hope you enjoy! This is the most straightforwardly Matilda heavy chapter yet. As such, the contents could be too angsty, triggering, or otherwise upsetting. Please read with caution (see warning below). Warnings: Angst, fluff, mention of childhood trauma, depression, and anxiety. But also super kind Harry. If you struggle with any of the above mentioned triggers, please know that you are valid and loved, and please reach out for help. Also, my inbox is always open if anyone wants to just chat. I love you all. Please be kind to yourselves.

Read previous chapters here.

Chapter 7

I unlocked the bathroom door, relenting to Harry’s incessant knocking. He squeezed through and shut the door behind him. I couldn’t bring myself to look up at him or even acknowledge his presence, especially in my current state. He said nothing, only wrapping his arms around me firmly and letting me sob into the crook of his neck.

Several minutes later, still in total silence, we ended up on the bathroom floor, leaning against the door, with me still clinging to Harry’s neck and he ran his fingers soothingly through my hair. Once I’d stopped sobbing long enough to realize what’d happened, I felt self-conscious and tried to peel myself away. 

Harry noticed me moving around. “Hello” he smiled down at my surely puffy, red face. 

“Hey…” my voice was barely audible; my throat raw.

“Wanna talk about it?”

I got up, off the floor, and stood in front of the mirror surveying the damage to my eyes and face.

“Nothing to talk about…just had a panic attack and felt shitty about it.” I said, stealing a glance at Harry’s face through the mirror as I played with my hair, trying to decide what the least awful hairdo option would be. 

He sat up, joining me by the mirror. “Plenty to talk about! Would it have anything to do with this family thing you’re going to?”

“Harry, look. It’s no big deal. Sorry I cried like a baby and got snot all over your $500 shirt, but there’s really nothing to talk about. You know how shitty parents can make you feel. It’s just that…”

“$800 actually, but do go on…”

He’d managed to get me to crack a smile, and he looked pretty proud of himself for that.

“I’m kidding. I think I got this shirt second hand. Went through a whole vintage phase with the solo career. Anyway, seriously, go on...”

“There’s nothing to go on about,” I stopped fiddling with my hair, and turned to face him. “You know when you haven’t seen your family in a while, and the prospect of seeing them makes you get in your head about, like, all the possible things that you could get wrong? Like how you dress, or speak, or what you order at dinner, or whatever, anything could set them off…”

  I watched Harry’s eyebrows raise into a frown as I went on. “N-no. I don’t know….” He looked sincerely confused.

“Are you saying that doesn’t happen to you?”

“It doesn’t. But, I know that my situation’s quite unusual, I only see my family like twice a year due to my job and-”

“I only see my family twice a year.”

I looked away, feeling embarrassed again and looking around me for something to distract myself with. Tears welling in the corners of my eyes already.

“I don’t want to push you to talk about something that you don’t wanna talk about, but you seem clearly upset, and, well…I’ve known you for a while now. Personally, I think there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the way you dress or speak, or what you order at dinner.” 

“That’s not what they’ll think…” I tried to get the words out but I doubt Harry could make out what I was saying as the crying overtook me again. I hated feeling so small and weak so I hid my face in the palm of my hands, not wanting to watch him watch me weep.

If he was uncomfortable at all, Harry did a great job of hiding it. He put the toilet seat cover down and made me sit on it, squatting down beside me. “Take a deep breath.” His gentle voice, just above a whisper, guiding me and helping to slow the spirals in my head.

I took several breaths and forced myself to stop crying. Bringing my knees close to my chest, I wrapped my arms around my legs. “My parents, they’re not bad people, Harry. Not at all- they…were just very young when they had me, and- well, there was a lot going on. Their parents didn’t approve of, like, the whole thing, and so they had no financial support, and- anyway, they took it out on me.” My resolve crumbled again and I couldn’t hold back the crying anymore. I rested my forehead on my knees and let my hot, salty tears run. Harry did nothing except rub slow, gentle circles along my back.

I swallowed, and looked up at him for a moment. Seeing the concern in his eyes made me feel pathetic, so I looked away quickly, choosing to focus my eyes on the bathroom floor instead. “This was a long time ago. They’ve changed now. Kind of. Like they won’t put their hands on me anymore, but, they really suck at communication” I giggled at my own words, mostly out of nerves, but seeing Harry smile too was good. “Anyway, even though they don’t not as bad a job as before, something inside of me still takes me back to those memories. Every time I see them, it’s like I’m 8 years old again and tiptoeing around trying to avoid conflict. What’s wrong with me that I can’t just let the past be in the past?!!”

“Hey, there is nothing wrong with you. You hear me?” He said without a moment’s pause.

I didn’t have it in me to respond. Too afraid that if I tried using my voice, I’d just be overcome with another wave of sobs, so I just nodded and blinked a few stray tears rolling down my face. Harry immediately reached over and wiped my eyes with the pad of his thumb, one teardrop at a time. I was suddenly aware that our faces were a mere few inches apart. At such a close distance, I saw his clear green eyes sparkle as he fixed his gaze on me, never once looking away or breaking eye-contact despite the difficult conversation that we were having. I felt as if he were looking straight into my soul, and the force of his eyes, his soft, plump lips, his  reassuring smile attempting to wordlessly negate all the destructive thoughts that swirled around me. I’d never felt so comforted by the simple presence of someone before. Usually, even the potential of sharing such a revealing, intimate side of myself to another human being had me running away as far as possible. Everything about my experiences with Harry was an exception.

“Uh-umm,” I attempted to break away from the spell of his beautiful face by clearing my throat and slowly unfolding my legs back down to the floor. “I’m running late, and I still have to figure out what to wear, and what to do with my hair, so…”

“Oh!” Harry took a minute to finally break eye contact and start to get up. “Yes, of course. I’ll let you get back to it, umm…”

He turned around to face the door as I stood back up, turning the faucet on to wash my tear-stained face, and at least try to look like an adult. The moment that I bent down to splash some water on my face I could feel Harry’s breath on my neck. He stood behind me and whispered in my ear, “You should wear that pretty little black dress, you wore to set once. You know? The one with the lacey ends? You looked so…. -holy fuck! Oh, and put your hair up. I like it when your neck is showing.”

His words sent a shiver through my body as I watched his reflection in the mirror. I blinked, and just like that, I heard the door shut behind me. He’d left.

***

Day 2, 9:47 PM.

I stormed out of the restaurant fuming and determined to get as far away from here as humanly possible. I couldn’t even remember how the argument had started, but by the end everyone was making passive-aggressive comments about how “closed-off” I am and how “little interest” I’ve shown in being a part of the family; and when I attempted to directly address to their backhanded comments, they all said I was “making a big deal out of a simple observation” and “looking to start a fight.” Basically, though they never uttered the words “you’re a shit daughter,” their words implied that I was the absolute worst person to be related to. I pulled my phone out of my purse. The screen lit up, showing a text from Harry. Sent 16 minutes ago. 

Harry (9:31 PM): I’ll wait up for you with the rest of that bottle we never finished. In the garden.

I opened the uber app and started typing his address into the “To” box, but slowly deleted it and put my own apartment address in. I couldn’t handle letting everyone see me like this. I couldn’t handle sharing a bed with Christopher for another night. I couldn’t handle anything at all at this point.

 ***

Day 3, 1:03 AM.

I was awakened by the sound of my phone’s  unrelenting vibrations on the nightstand. Harry’s sending a series of texts

Harry 2 hours ago:

It’s getting late and I’m getting worried. You still out with the family?

Harry 3 minutes ago:

Where are you? Everything alright?

Harry 2 minutes ago:

I’m officially freaking out. Now would be a good time to come back.

Harry now:

Where the fuck are you?! PLEASE LET ME HEAR FROM YOU?

Hello????!!!

I swear I WILL CALL THE POLICE!!!

I clicked on his last text to retrieve the message app and write him back.

“I’m fine, Harry.” I started to type, but quickly deleted and replaced it with “Please stop” but that felt too cruel a response to his honest concern. My mind drew a blank. I couldn’t come up with the right words to articulate that, despite not being in mortal danger and needing the police to rescue me, I was decidedly NOT FINE AT ALL. 

Harry now:

You’re there! Typing! THANK FUCK!

Oh. You stopped.

Could you please just say something so I know you’re, like, not dead?

I tapped and held his text until the reaction bubbles popped up. I hit the thumbs up bubble.

He replied with, “thank you! I’ll let you be.”

Exiting the message app I saw that I had 3 missed calls. 1 from Sienna and 2 from Christopher.  I put my phone face down back on the nightstand and turn my bed-side lamp on, looking at the room around me. I felt disoriented and the whole room looked foreign to me. I’d fallen asleep with my dress and makeup on. My pillow was stained with tears, mascara, and foundation. I flipped it over and got up to change. Tossing my dress to the floor, I grabbed the nearest shirt I could find and got back into bed.

***

Day 3 9:23 AM

Harry 1 hour ago:

We’re just going over our lines for filming. We miss you and your input.

Christopher 2 hours ago: Spoke with Harry. Said you were okay but need some time. Let me know if you need to talk, ok? xx

3 missed calls from mom

My phone was at 3%, I plugged it in, stumbling over a book of short stories on my way back to bed. I picked the book up and decided to read it in bed.

***

Day 3, 6:15 PM

Harry now:

No pressure to reply. Just wanna say I’m here and I’m thinking of you.

I let the text notification fade, and letting it add to the number of unread messages on my phone, continuing to scroll endlessly. It didn’t feel like the right thing to do. I desperately wanted to be in his presence, but the very idea of being around other people right now overwhelmed me. How could both feelings be true at the same time?

***

 Day 4, 12:00 PM

Harry now:

In the pool. Alone. Wish you were here.

Christopher 2 minutes ago:

Checkin’ in. Hope you’re better today. What’re you up to?

Sienna 30 minutes ago:

Hi babes! I’m sorry you had to leave so abruptly. Can I bring you your things, and maybe get a cup of coffee?

***

Day 4 10:13 PM

Harry now:

Goodnight. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow on location!

***

On the afternoon of the first day back to filming I was startled out of my hard-won nap by a hard knock on my door. I knew, even before trudging over to the peephole, that it was Harry. Likely upset that I’d not been on set that morning. Or perhaps that I hadn’t replied to anyone’s texts or answered their calls.

“Open the fucking door, Matilda!” 

Even though I knew he wasn’t an angry person, the tone of his voice made me anxious. More because I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to match his energy than because he could do or say anything to upset me. I considered not answering the door, but his relentless ruckus would surely alarm the neighbors.

My hands shook uncontrollably as I struggled to undo the chain on the door.

“Hey Harry…” my voice was hoarse and it scratched at my throat as I spoke.

The anger in his body dissipated as soon as his gaze landed on me, or whatever he could see of me through the small crack in the doorway. My own gaze, however, struggled to meet his. I alternated between looking in his direction and the direction of the floor. I knew that, even through the half open door, he could still see enough of my current state: the dark circles under my eyes, my hair unbrushed for days, the same pajamas I’d thrown on since my parents’ dinner. My only comfort was in the fact that, with my body blocking the doorway, he couldn’t see the state of my apartment.

We stood there, not speaking. His face signaling concern, pity, confusion. If I had any tears left in me I’m sure I’d have burst right then and there, but, the past few nights had taken all the emotion out of me. I’d now entered the pure numbness stage of my depressive episode. The hardest one to crawl out of. Because feeling something, even if it’s just complete despair, still enabled me to relate to the world albeit negatively. Feeling nothing, on the other hand, left me entirely alone.

“You weren’t at work today.” Harry had finally broken the silence.

“Yeah, umm, Fran said she’d take over for me and-”

“Yeah she told me.” He smiled, clearly out of discomfort. “I’m worried about you.” 

I shut my eyes, too embarrassed to let him look at me.

“And…maybe I’m right to be! I mean, no offense, Matilda, but look at you…”

“Harry, please. I didn’t come to work because I don’t want to-”

“May I come in?” he interrupted, his voice hopeful.

“No.”  I chopped that hope down by the legs.

“Let me in, Matilda.”

“That’s not even my real name.”

“Let me in. Now.”

I looked up at the ceiling, rolling my eyes, and moved out of the doorway letting him in.

He stood in the hall and looked around him, assessing the severity of the situation. I knew that he was putting on a front because no normal human being who sees my depression mess could remain unphased. Even I grimaced at it every time. 

The longer that Harry went without expressing concern or disgust the more my heart raced and my breath quickened. “Sorry about the mess. It’s not usually like this.”

“It’s fine.” He smiled.

“I mean, thanks, but it’s actually not fine.”

He said nothing, took out his phone, and stood there, scrolling on it for a moment; finally, he looked up from the screen and pocketed his phone again.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“I was actually napping just then…”

 He made his way over to the overflowing kitchen sink and salvaged a glass which he filled with water from the fridge full of leftover containers, and handed it to me. “Drink up.”

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Harry, but you should go…”

“I will be doing no such thing…where do you keep the trash bags around here?” he went back into the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets. 

I ran over to him, exerting physical effort for the first time that week, and almost slipped, the two day old socks I’d been wearing sliding across the floor. 

“Please stop whatever this is and go home, Harry.” I placed both hands on the arm he’d used to open the overhead cabinet. “You can’t be here.”

“Yes, I can.”

“I’M CLINICALLY DEPRESSED HARRY!” He’d driven me to yelling, and I hated it more than anything. 

He said nothing in response but he kept his eyes on my face. Never losing the determination.

“What I’m trying to say is…you can’t fix this. Not with a glass of water and some recycling. I’m not some damsel in distress waiting for you to rescue me.”

“I promise not to rescue you.”

Harry shut the cabinet and took a hold of my two hands, planting them firmly around his neck. He then leaned over and wrapped his arms around me at the knees and shoulders, carrying me in his arms. “I know what this looks like, but I’m still not doing any rescuing.” He planted a quick kiss on my temple when he heard me giggle. 

Harry carried me into the bathroom as if over a threshold and set me down on the counter, immediately reaching for my bath items and running the water as if he’d lived here and done this before. While the bathtub filled, he stood in the space between my dangling legs and placed his hands on my waist squeezing and hugging me.

“I don’t want to fix you. I want to help you fix yourself.” He spoke into my ear before breaking away from the embrace to look at me. “C’mon missy. Into the bath you go.” He tapped my hips, hooking his fingers into the waistband of the leggings that had practically adhered to my skin and peeled them off. 

“Uh, n-no Harry. Gross!” I attempted to stop him. Suddenly extremely aware of…well everything. The surely disgusting body odors, the hairy legs, the dry skin. I did not want him to see any of it.

“You’re going to do as I say.” He simply ignored my warnings and continued to wordlessly undress me. 

I complained to him about how unsexy I felt letting his first time seeing me naked be with all this hair all over me. 

“It’s just body hair, Matilda…” He said matter of factly. “But if it bothers you so much, we’ll have to do something about it.”

“Not ‘we’” I objected immediately.

“You either do as I say, or I make you.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but I didn’t ask. Letting myself be moved around at his discretion. He helped me into the bubble bath he’d drawn, going into my closet and bringing back towels, a clean pair of underwear, and keeping his eyes to himself. He messed around in every corner of the bathroom until he’d recovered my shaving kit and placed it on the edge of the tub. 

“I’ll be right back.” he announced, disappearing for some time.

Harry had shut the door behind him causing the bathroom to grow warm and misty from the bathwater. Fog covered the bathroom mirror, so I could no longer see my reflection in it. I let myself sink deeper into the bath until it covered my knees and breasts completely. I leaned my head back and  closed my eyes, feeling the tension in my muscles melt away as if seeping out of me and into the scented bath water.  I have no idea how long I stayed like that.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now!” I heard Harry’s voice chuckling as he stood over me with a gentle smile. He sat at the edge of the tub and grabbed my shampoo bottle. “Coconut and Papaya” he read off the label. You know, I think Sienna’s dog has the same one!” he laughed, clearly pleased with his own joke.

He squirted some shampoo onto his hand and began to massage it gently into my hair. I’d opened my mouth to state that I was a grown woman, perfectly capable of washing my own hair, but he gave me a look. One that I had never seen before but that clearly said “remember what we said about doing as I say?” Soon, he moved on to scrubbing my body too, and then took great care and attention to rinse every inch of my body off watching the soap disappear and smiling at nothing in particular. His hands were gentle and precise. 

Something about the way that he handled me like a precious object felt terrifyingly intimate without being sexual. The way that his wet hands moved over my skin, he was getting to know every part of my body without getting any pleasure or gratification out of it. Yet another experience with Harry that I hadn’t shared with anyone else before.

Finally, when he took a brand new shaving razor out of it’s plastic container and asked me to raise my arm, I started to cry. It might have been this hydrating bath, or the glass of water he’d forced on me earlier, but my eyes had found more tears to shed. Even as I panted and my sniffles got louder, Harry continued to work the razor delicately down my body, making great work of making sure I was smooth and comfortable.

I wrapped my hand around his wrist as he attempted to move the razor between my legs. “You could hurt yourself!” he chided. 

“Harry, No. That’s too much.”

“What? Shaving your pussy?” he said bluntly, making me blush. “Oh, do you not normally shave it? Sorry. Okay.” he wiggled his wrist out of my firm grasp.

“I do, I just- please give me the razor.”

He paused for a moment looking at me and considering my request.

“Alright. I got some stuff to do anyway…” he handed it to me and left.

***

I walked out of the bathroom in the clothes Harry had laid out for me to find that he’d changed the bedding and cleaned my room.

“What the….?”

Harry was bent over my night stand, refilling my diffuser with my “sleeptime scent.”

He’d drawn the curtains and even brought me a water bottle.

“C’mon. Let’s tuck you in.” He fluffed up my pillows.

I hesitantly got into bed, Watching Harry’s movements around the room. Turning off the lights, he told me to have fun snoozing and began to walk out of the room when I begged him to stay.

“You want me here?” a grin forming on his face despite his best efforts to hide it.

“Just until I fall asleep, okay?”

He rushed over to my side, unable to contain himself, and quickly got under the covers with me, wrapping one arm around me and threading another hand through my hair as I laid my head on his shoulder.

***

We sat in my bed all afternoon, me glued to his side, venting and describing my worries over not getting to a stable place with my family before it’s too late, feeling that this instability inevitably takes a toll on my personal life, no matter how disconnected I am from my parents. At first, I felt nervous sharing my deepest, darkest thoughts with him. I made sure to preface everything with a long rant about not wanting to hear any “but it’s all in your head” or “but you’re better than you think you are” or “the future will work out just fine,” defensively informing him that if anxiety disorders could be cured by simply “deciding” not to be anxious anymore, the whole field of psychiatry wouldn’t exist. As time went on, however, I felt less and less like I needed to prove the realness of my mental illness to him, and I just went on speaking.

Harry, to his credit, did not interject once. He resorted to wiping any occasional tears away, echoing my nervous laughter whenever I made a self-deprecating joke or attempted to deflect, and squeezing me tighter to him if he sensed that I was apprehensive. “It’s okay” he’d whisper every time I mentioned being frustrated with my broken brain that it won’t let me have a “normal life,” or that I wished I could be a more functional human being. Finally, with my messy, discordant thoughts now out in the open, my brain felt empty and I fell asleep. Presumably in his arms.

I woke up as the sun was setting outside my window, Harry’s place in my bed empty.

“Hey sleepy girl” he looked up from the book he’d picked off my shelves when he saw me standing in the living room staring around me. He’d literally wiped every surface of the apartment clear of the last few days.

“Did you sleep okay?”

Still stunned at the state of everything, I could only nod and make my way over to the couch next to him.

Sure, he’d placed some items back where they didn’t belong, and arranged my throw pillows in ways that had never occurred to me, but he’d worked miracles. 

“You hungry? I made dinner.”

“Dinner?! Harry, that Mac and Cheese is probably expired!”

“You’re telling me! It tasted like grilled 3 day old garbage.” He laughed and stood up placing the book on the coffee table. “What? I got hungry! So, I went grocery shopping.”

I fired up the stove and started setting the dining table. I hurried over to help, and immediately saw that the entire kitchen had been restocked. Paper towels, detergent, crackers, frozen meals in the fridge,

“You’re depressed, yes? Meaning simple tasks can be overwhelming? You said that earlier…so I made extra! Put it in the fridge or the freezer or whatever. Then the next time you can’t be bothered to cook…TA DA! Food!”

“Harry, I-” I paused. Not knowing how to articulate the depths of my gratitude. A general feeling of care and gratefulness, in itself, was foreign to me. As a friend, he’d shown me more attention and generosity than anyone I’d ever met before him.  Then, he’d comforted me through the aftermath of a panic attack– something I’d never shared with anyone before– and as if all that weren’t enough,  now he was going above and being to carry this burden with me. My mind literally hit a wall. I did not understand why he was doing any of this. Or what I had done to deserve it. It made me want to bolt and disappear forever. And I felt guilty that my instinct is to, just, leave.

“Everything alright?” Harry leaned over to meet my eyes, holding a salad bowl in his hands.

“Why are you doing all this?” I blurted out, my town more confrontational than curious.

“We’ve been over this. I don’t expect you to wake up tomorrow all sunshine and rainbows cuz I cleaned your apartment or fed you a hot, three course meal. Now sit, let’s eat.”

***

After dinner and clean up, Harry dragged me out for a walk. Despite my best excuses about my stomach being full, he insisted that I see the outside world. I hated how right he was.

“You were right about what you said the other day.” I said, unsettling the comfortable silence.

Without missing a beat, Harry replied with “I’m right about a lot of things, Matilda, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“What you said about me being afraid of passionate relationships.”

Harry stopped in his tracks. I turned around as soon as I noticed that he was no longer walking beside me and saw the look of regret on his face. “I- I shouldn’t have said that. I was a dick to you. I didn’t– I didn’t know about all this. Your family, your mental health… You have every right to be-” 

“Just let me talk, ok?” 

“You’re right that I’m afraid, but not because passion scares me. I’m afraid to like it, depend on it, get used to it.” Harry’s apologetic demeanor turned into confusion as he listened.

I began to feel myself lose the burst of bravery that had compelled me to confess, so I looked away, urging him to resume walking. “Because, well, everyone leaves, Harry!” I spoke with my eyes glued to the pathway in front of us. “They all said they won’t in the beginning. Not just partners either. Friends too. Everyone says they wanna be there for you; mental health isn’t something to be ashamed of; asking for help is important. All which is TRUE, don’t get me wrong. I know that….But, the crying you’ve seen me do over the past couple of weeks? That’s pretty standard for me. And living in squalor- that’s a regular occurrence as well. Like, at least once a month. Sometimes more…I get these depressive episodes, and…This one was pretty mild. Cuz it’s predictable. I know what triggered it. Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I just wake up and I feel like shit.”  I felt myself run out of breath so I paused. Harry said nothing, and I couldn’t stand the silence so I continued ranting. “And, you know, being in a relationship with someone who’s bound to be depressed most of the time can take a toll on people. And even if it doesn’t. I just– I worry. About reaching out to, or leaning on, the same person time and time again. I don’t wanna be a burden to the people that make me feel comfortable enough to share this stuff with. So, I– end up trying to rely on other coping mechanisms, and they think I’m pulling away.”

We turned around, heading back to my apartment.

I mustered the remains of my courage and glanced at Harry with the corner of my eye. He was looking thoughtfully into the distance, processing what I had divulged.

“May I say something?” He finally asked.

“Sure.”

“ I hear you. I won’t pretend that I understand, cuz I don’t. And I know I never will. But I hear what you’re saying.” He held the door open for me as we walked back into the building. “I have a counter argument though. With all due respect, Matilda –and I do mean this; I don’t ever want to trivialize your struggle with my ignorance– but I don’t think it’s your right to make my decisions for me. Why would you let ME decide what I can and can’t handle?”

“I don’t wanna lose you.” I unlocked the door and let us into the apartment.

“Who says you have to lose me?”

I shook my head. At what, I wasn’t sure. “Don’t wanna bring you down with me.” My eyes began to sting with tears.

Harry grabbed his coat off the hanger by the door and felt around his pockets to make sure he had his wallet, keys, and phone all on him.

He walked closer to me closing the gap between us and brought his hands up to my face. I closed my eyes, ready for his lips to touch mine, but he surprised me by kissing my cheek instead. “It’s getting late. Work tomorrow. I should go. You should go to bed too. Text me to let me know that you’re in bed in a bit.” He turned around aiming for the door.

“Hey Harry?”

“Yes, Darling?”

“I like it when you tell me what to do.”

He turned back around to face me. The look in his eyes was wild.

[no-droids]

Whenever You Want

Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Listen there is some dirty smut in this one yall okay like I was blushing when I wrote it, it has a very stark beginning and theres a pagebreak afterwards if you would prefer to skip over it. Smut includes oral sex (female receiving) rough sex, sensory deprivation, butt stuff (ass to mouth, anal fingering/penetration) so PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR IT PLEASE. Also there is jealous/possessive mando in this, season 1 Karga makes another appearance, and some angst/fluff towards the end

A/N: Nothing much today yoditos just love you all

***

Din said he’d meet you here.

You’re currently sitting across from Greef Karga in a cantina on Nevarro, a closed shield next to you and a blaster tucked into the back of your waistband, hidden underneath your shirt.  You’re barely even looking at him, though—your eyes are attached to the door by an invisible string, forcing your gaze back to it no matter how much it bounces around the room.

You don’t know where Din is, you haven’t seen him in hours.  But you do know that when he left, he was moving slower than you’re used to.  You don’t think anyone else would notice, but you sure did.  Not that he was obvious about it—you only picked up on very subtle hints.  Leaning up against things just a bit more than he usually does.  Taking slightly longer exiting the ramp of the Crest than his normal strides would carry him.

He didn’t say what he was going to do—just that he needed to find someone before meeting with Karga, and you accepted it.  But truthfully, you didn’t want to.  You were worried about him—still are, actually.  But for all intents and purposes, he was speaking and acting like himself, showing no real signs of exhaustion other than the smallest instances you described before, so you didn’t really have a leg to stand on.  He’s been through way worse, and you know it.  You just… find yourself worrying about him so much more than you used to, and you need to learn how to gain some control over that part of you.

The kid was still passed out from healing him and you remember Din carefully setting four pucks down in the sleeping baby’s sphere and giving his ears a gentle rub between leather fingers.  He turned back to you and told you to meet him at the cantina in three hours, but if it ended up taking him too long for any reason, to try your best to see if Karga will let you exchange on his behalf.

Admittedly, he didn’t sound too confident about it—the instructions were delivered with a tone that implied a doubtful, just-in-case scenario he wasn’t foreseeing happening.  Or maybe he just doubted the likelihood of Karga agreeing to do business with you, you’re not entirely sure.  All you know is that when he left, you were almost certain he wouldn’t be late, but you also took the time to grab the smallest blaster from his armory before heading out just in case.

Yet—here you are, three and a half hours later, eyes flicking between the door and Karga as you attempt to keep up polite conversation.  After turning down his offer of alcohol for the fifth time and still not seeing any glimpse of beskar coming to your rescue, you figure this may be as good a time as any to start the exchange.

During an extended break in the small talk, you slowly reach over to the corner of your booth and press a button on the face of the kid’s shield.  It hisses open and you completely miss the way Karga’s hand raises while three of his guards automatically reach for their hips.  The little green monster is still snoozing comfortably while you pull out the four glowing pucks Din left you and set them on the table one by one.

They scrape along the top of it as you slowly push them over to him, before sitting back in the booth and clearing your throat, flicking your eyes between Karga and his guards.  To you, nobody appears to have moved, so you muster a polite smile at him.

Karga smiles back, but makes no move to gather or inspect the offerings in front of him.

“Um…” you say after a moment, suddenly feeling your heart start to beat a little faster.  “Mando… Mando gave me permission to exchange on his behalf.”

“I believe you,” he drawls out in response, but the pucks still sit untouched in front of him as he leans back in the booth and studies you.  “Mando has always had a… let’s say, a frustrating penchant for disregarding the pillars of our code.  My apologies, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot accept these from you.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you’d like it to sound.  “Why not?”

“It is… unlawful,” he answers after a moment.  “Our organization operates under strict rules.”

Does it?  You blink.  No, it doesn’t.  You’re nothing to the Guild and you’ve sat next to Din quite a few times while Karga talked, listening to him drunkenly boast about return rates and out members by name.  You’re not sure why he’s barring you like this, but you’re also not self-assured enough to put practically any spine into it whatsoever.  “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.”

“I cannot legally do guild business with individuals not recognized as members in an official capacity,” he sighs, sounding grave and almost apologetic about it, but you don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a good actor or not.  “There’s nothing I can do for you besides provide you with my company, not until Mando decides to show.”

Well now that doesn’t make any sense, and you’re starting to worry that for some reason or another, he isn’t going to show.  Though it was incredibly well concealed, you’re well aware that Din was still lingering in the final recovery stages when he left the Crest earlier and all you have to go on is his word that he’d be here.  Something could’ve happened.  Something could be happening right now, you need to push.

“People pick up bounties for extra credits all the time,” you mumble, still way too fucking quiet about it.  Maker, you’re not even sure if he could hear that over the sound of the cantina.  Speak up, speak up.

“Yes, but those quarry are listed on the New Republic’s most wanted database,” Karga acknowledges diplomatically, educating more than he is arguing, before uncorking the bottle of glowing blue alcohol in front of him and beginning to pour himself another shot.  “They’re fodder.  Up for grabs—names, last known locations, and biometrics published for the entire galaxy to read.”  He tilts his head down at the four metal pucks on the table without removing his gaze from the gradually filling glass.  “Those pucks are different, they’re commissions.  Tied specifically to Guild contracts.”  Karga clunks the bottle back down again and corks it, pinning you with a stare.  “For all I know, you could’ve murdered a member of our ranks and come to collect payment for his bounties.  Can’t have that.”

Your blood suddenly turns to ice at the implication, eyes wide and your heartbeat rocketing as you look from Karga to the three guards casually stationed behind him.  “You—You think I murdered Mando?”

“No,” he says, easily and in the very same breath, before throwing the shot back and wiping his mouth with a grimace.  “Not sure I’d care too much if you did.  It’s not my rule, but I am required to follow it or risk losing my position in the Guild.”

Shit.  Shit.  What do you do?

You’re blank, left quiet and feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed.  Karga, however, seems completely unbothered and even appears to be enjoying himself and your company.  He gives you another smile, this one a lot friendlier and more genuine than the one earlier, before setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“Look, I want to help you,” he admits, keeping his tone light, “but my hands are tied.  Just relax and share a drink with me until he gets here, it’s not a problem.”

Fuck, you don’t like this, and a quick look around brings another reminder of Din’s continued absence.  Your chest feels tight, the anxiety starting to compound and make you jumpy.  It’s been too long—it’s been at least forty minutes or so of waiting by now and something just feels wrong about this.  Not having him next to you feels wrong enough on its own, but when he specifically told you he’d be here?

You clench your jaw and try to work up your nerve.  Karga is a nice guy, right?  He knows you by name, he knows who you are to Mando.  And while you never really thought about the bounty hunter’s omnipresent protection as being anything other than metaphorical, you suddenly realize that… it might be literal, too.  How much sway do you actually have here, you wonder?  You’re not stupid, you’re not going to try anything stupid, but maybe just another question won’t hurt?

“Well, um… how do you become a member, then?”  You ask him, and you watch as he leans back in the booth, raising both eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?”  He asks, though there’s a genuine amusement in his voice.  Stunned that you’d even say the words aloud.

“I have four bodies,” you tell him shortly.  You’re still quiet about it, but his thoroughly entertained astonishment is beginning to rub you the wrong way.  You don’t want to be part of the Guild, you don’t want to be here, you’re doing this out of growing necessity.  “One of which I dragged through a blizzard on Hoth by its ankles and put into carbonite myself, so please just tell me what I have to do to get you to take them.”

“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head like you’re just not getting it.  “New members are only accepted if they bring in an S-level criminal from the database or if they complete a commission that was granted to them by someone of my station—neither of which apply to you.  If you cannot present me with any sort of reasonable argument for which they could, then I’m afraid this is not a favor I can swing.”

“I was sitting right here,” you return, suddenly finding your voice.  If Karga wants an argument from you to get this to happen, then you’ll do it.  You just need to finish this exchange, go back to the Crest, and scan around for Din’s signal.  “When you first gave the pucks to Mando, I sat right here and you pushed them over to this side of the table—I was present for the commission and now I’m here to complete it.”

He shakes his head.  “But I didn’t give them to you, I gave them to Mando—”

“Yes, but you only wanted to give him three,” you immediately point out.  “The last one, the one I told you I put into carbonite—you said you threw it in because you liked me, it could’ve been for me.”

Karga suddenly stops and blinks at you for a few seconds, and you bite your lip, wondering if the logic will hold.  It’s flimsy as fuck and you know he could very easily rip it apart if he wanted to.  It could’ve been for you but it wasn’t, he gave it to Mando.  You also purposefully leave out the fact that you’re also the reason Mando only gave him three bodies in the first place; your only goal here is to complete this transaction as quickly as possible and leave.  You don’t like the fact that it’s taking Din so long, and you also don’t like the fact that Karga seems so keen on keeping you here with him, no matter how many reassurances he provides.  He said he wants to help you?  This can be his chance to prove it.

After a few extended moments of consideration, Karga finally shrugs like he really couldn’t care less before reaching across the table for the pucks and beginning to stack them in his palm.

“What is your last name?”  He asks, turning behind him to gesture for one of his men with a jerk of his head.  The bodyguard exits the cantina without another word and your eyes flick back to Karga’s.

“Why does it matter?”  You ask uncertainly, watching another guard approach with a holopad as he shrugs once more.

“It doesn’t, but we need something for our records,” Karga explains, grabbing the device as it’s tapped against his shoulder without removing his gaze from yours.  “I can just use Doe if you don’t feel like sharing—most of our members tend to prefer anonymity, including your companion.”

Your eyebrows furrow even as your heart continues to pound, wondering how they can afford to be so lax about some things but take others so seriously.  “You have him down as John Doe?”

“First name Man,” Karga grunts in response, finally breaking eye contact to begin navigating through pages on the holopad.

“Ah,” you say shortly, knowing you’d probably find the joke funny in other circumstances.  You’re not out of the trenches yet, you still feel the worry tugging hard at your chest.

“Very well,” Karga announces with a sigh, pocketing the pucks in his leather overcoat and then handing the holopad back to one of the men flanking him after a moment.  “Someone is collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

You give him a nod, taking a deep breath that you hope is slow and subtle enough to not give your anxiety away.  He helped you out, you’re halfway through this.  Now comes the exchange.  Now it’s his turn to give you the credits and four more pucks, that’s how this should go.

Only, Karga leans back in his seat and cocks his head at you.  “Unfortunately, I believe we have found ourselves in the midst of yet another predicament.”

Your heart continues to slam, praying you haven’t somehow majorly fucked things up by getting this far.  Din still isn’t here, why is he so fucking late?  He nearly froze to death and you handled a dead body just to make this meeting on time, where the fuck is he?

You raise an eyebrow at him, willing the building panic not to show on your face.  “Have we?”

“You’re lucky credits are attached to commissions instead of rank within the Guild,” he prefaces, pulling out a large handful of them to begin counting, and your eyes flick around the cantina while you know he isn’t looking, “or else you’d be getting about half of what I’d normally give him.”

Heart galloping when you still don’t see any sign of him, you just decide to keep extra quiet as you watch Karga divvy out a sizable stack of credits, hoping your prolonged silence will protect you somehow.

“The question now becomes…” he lifts an eyebrow at you while sliding them across the table to you, “how many pucks do I give you in return, hm?”

Fuck, you don’t like this, you’re trying to make it crystal fucking clear that your intentions do not extend beyond the perimeter of this table.  There’s no you to be found in this deal, you’re just an emergency proxy in Din’s absence and you only inserted yourself in the situation to accomplish that task.  “I told you I’m only here to exchange on Mando’s behalf, that’s it.”

“Be that as it may…”  Karga glances around the cantina like he’s thinking extra hard about it.  This is a made-up problem, you both know there’s no predicament here.  He knows you didn’t kill Mando, he knows there’s no real reason to be giving you such a hard time about this, and you clench your jaw as he still seems to take his time considering it.  “Tell you what, young lady,” he finally turns back to you.  “Do me the honor of sharing one sip of this fine spotchka with me and I’ll give you four pucks to pass along to Mando.”

Okay.  Okay, you can do that, if he really cares that much.  Karga gestures for the closest droid to come by with a glass for you, but you just grab the bottle in front of him and uncork it without thinking too much, balancing the glowing blue liquid with two hands and diligently taking a small sip of it before setting it down again.  Appearing satisfied with your demonstration of upholding your end of the bargain, Karga grins and reaches into another pocket.

“Four for Mando,” he pushes four pucks across the table, “same rate and return as last time, as promised.”  You nearly deflate in relief as you quickly gather them up and begin dropping them into the snoozing baby’s shield along with the credits, but then Karga reaches back and pulls out another puck, pushing it over to you.  “And one for you.”

You blink at him, frozen in place.

“Lowest level, lowest pay.  Not even a criminal by New Republic standards, just a missing person,” he goes on to say, but then quite suddenly… 

Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.

You don’t want it.  Everything inside you surges up to scream that you do not want that puck.  It’s a waste of time, even if it’s an extra job—it’s too much trouble, too much fuel for such a small reward.  You already know good and well that Din won’t want to bother, getting this extra puck would be considered a detriment to him.

“What if I don’t want it?”  You ask, sounding nervous and vaguely out of breath as you look down at it.

Karga scoffs.  “Of course you don’t.  Nobody wants these, why do you think I’m trying so hard to pawn one off on you?”

Shit.  This is not at all how you expected any of this would go.  You know he’s not really asking, even if his tone and continued courtesy implies it’s only a request.  There’s an expectation attached to this, and it appears you take too long pondering an offer that isn’t actually voluntary.  Karga stares at you and your clear apprehension for just a few seconds more, before finally giving you an ultimatum.  “You said you’re here on his behalf.  You either take all five pucks now or Mando only gets three next time, your choice.”

Oh.  Oh, no.  This is a lose-lose; three pucks means more fuel and less credits, five pucks means more fuel and less credits.  It’s not like you have any real bargaining power here—almost everything he’s done for you today has been a favor of some sort and you’re well aware that things can always get worse.

Still, you take a deep breath and try your best to throw around whatever weight you have left in one final agreement.

“Give me your word you’ll go back to giving him four from now on, no more hassling or hard time constraints and we’ll take it just this once,” you tell him, trying to conjure and put power behind your words even though you’re unsure if they’ll stick.

“Deal,” Karga readily agrees with a smile, reaching his hand across the table.  You have no choice but to meet him in the middle and clasp it, unable to feel anywhere close to good about your performance here.  It was clunky and insecure and even though you just barely succeeded in making the exchange overall, you’re massively disappointed in the specifics.

But then Karga’s eyes quickly flick over your shoulder.

“Ah, Mando!”  He suddenly calls out, and your hand nearly snatches away from his while your body goes rigid.

Oh, this isn’t good, this is not good.  Well, it’s good that he’s here but it also really fucking isn’t.  You don’t even turn your head; you sit completely straight and still while the cantina falls to a hush and heavy footsteps begin to approach behind you.  You fucked up—you fucked up, you didn’t wait long enough and you feel the sharp regret instantly twist in your stomach.  He said he’d be here, why didn’t you trust him?  Your anxiety and stress compounded and spurned you to act too quickly, you made the deal a few fucking seconds before he showed up.

And, as Din eventually comes into your peripheral, taking his time leaning his rifle up against the table, you immediately realize that you should not have worried.  Recovery isn’t even a word in his vocabulary right now—he’s more intimidating than he’s ever been, more powerful and certain and dangerous while he lowers himself into the seat next to you than he’s ever felt to you before.  Everything is so quiet now that he’s here; you feel like even just swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat turns into an audible gulp.  The man sitting across from you may own this cantina and every material good under its roof, but the one sitting by your side feels like he steals the literal air from the room just by walking inside it.

Yet, in spite of the daunting presence of the Mandalorian, Karga beams and tips his glass at him.  “I believe you’ve arrived just in time for your favorite part of the conversation, friend.  The farewells.”

You stare wide-eyed down at the table as Din leans back into the booth and very slowly extends his arm behind your shoulders, saying nothing at all to him.

The testosterone is radiating from him to the point of near suffocation, you can taste the alpha in the air.  Your heart slams in your chest at the unspoken claim he just made with a subtle movement, and though you’ve never been one for masculine displays, this one weirdly feels… good right now.  You know it’s primitive and crude and you’re not a piece of meat to be fought over, but it doesn’t feel like that at all.  It’s the immediate feeling of security that serves to heat your cheeks, the fact that you’ve been a nervous mess trying to be extra brave this whole interaction and then suddenly you have the backup of an entire army contained within one single suit of armor next to you.

If you weren’t internally panicking at how badly you screwed this shit up, you’d probably be going fucking feral for him right now.

Karga says your name and your gaze snaps to his, feeling like you can’t breathe.  “My associate has collected the plaques, nothing keeps you here any longer.  It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Still, nobody at the table moves.

After a moment, you carefully glance up and to the side at the sharp, metallic profile of his helmet.  Maker, you can’t explain it—it’s like you feel terrified but not really for yourself, if that makes sense.  You’re upset with yourself for not having enough trust in his word, absolutely, but something in Din’s demeanor tells you that he’s going to be considerably less understanding of how Karga handled this situation than the way you did.

The helmet slowly turns down to look at you, and you bite your lip while carefully placing your hand on his thigh brace under the table, letting him feel your fingers brush against the bend of his knee.

He turns back to Karga after a few seconds, still not saying a single word, until eventually Din’s arm is lifted from behind your shoulders and you feel his leather fingers gently clasp your hand, before he starts to rise from the booth and pull you along next to him.  You both stand, and he silently presses a button on his vambrace without dropping your grip, urging the kid’s shield to follow along behind him.

“Um, goodbye,” you just barely remember to tell Karga as Din begins leading you away, apparently not waiting for the polite farewells he arrived in time for.

“Wait!”  A voice calls out just before you can make your exit, and Din pauses just in time for Karga to extend that damned fifth puck out for you to grab.  Right in fucking front of him.  “Can’t forget this!”

Fuck.  Great.  Thanks.

Blood rushes to your face while you go to reach for it, taking the puck and then placing it in the open shield along with four others in a way that you hope is casual but you know isn’t.  You close the lid on it and then squeeze Din’s hand slightly, but he stays rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, having watched the entire exchange play out.  Though you obviously wouldn’t be able to read his facial expressions even if you could lift your head to look up at him, you can’t will yourself to do so right now.  You’re too disappointed in yourself and nervous—you just stand there silently as he looks back at Karga, staring at your feet and praying he doesn’t do anything brash.

After too many moments of uncertainty, you squeeze his hand again and slowly begin to pull on it.  Without needing much pressure at all, he goes where you go, and you end up being the one to lead Din out of the cantina by the hand still tangled with yours.

*** 

The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.

Neither one of you say anything at all to each other the entire way there, and you know he’s not mad at you yet, but you’re worried.  You feel incredibly self-critical right now and it’s really not helping that he seems even quieter and more wound up than usual.  You don’t know if it’s because he already figured out that you just handed him extra work or if it’s because whatever made him late to the cantina also altered his mood, hit a reset button and reminded him of the way he used to be, the armor he’s wearing.  Was there a confrontation, you wonder?  Is he okay?  He seems like he’s… extra Mandalorian right now, there’s not really a better way to describe it.

He doesn’t drop your hand, though.  As you pass through the markets and shanty huts lining the streets, Din holds onto you.  Shoulders tense and strides heavy, but his fingers stay tangled in yours.

Regardless, you keep your mouth shut and eventually the Crest comes into view.  The ramp drops to the ground and the three of you make your way up, and you have enough foresight to carefully drop Din’s hand and lead the baby’s shield over to the unused cot built into the hull walls, closing him in a safe quiet place to sleep and continue building up his strength again.

You turn around to see Din press another button on his vambrace.  He stays with his back to you as the ramp slowly closes, but as soon as it latches up against the hull and locks into place, he nearly whips around and suddenly he’s right in front of you, gloves cupping your face.

“What happened?”  He asks sharply, the helmet looking you up and down.  “Are you alright?  Why did you look so scared?”

You reach up to rest your hands on his, blinking up at him and not knowing what to say.  How are you going to tell him?  He’s gotta waste extra fuel and time on a bullshit quarry because of you, what are you going to say?  You don’t even know if it’s last known location is nearby; he might have to fly to some remote, desolate corner of the galaxy just for a handful of credits because you couldn’t wait a fucking hour for him.

“I, uh…  I-I’m sorry, I just…”  But it’s nearly impossible to form a coherent thought when he’s this close to you and sounding fucking sincere, genuinely concerned about you while you’re stuck worrying about how to break the bad news to him.  “Oh, stars, um…”

“Did Karga fuck with you?”  He asks in that same sharp tone when you don’t finish your thought, but you’re so absorbed in your own conflict that you barely even hear him.  “Because I can go back right now, the cantina is just—”

“Okay wait, please—” You suddenly speak up, “before I tell you, just… please keep in mind that I did save your life two days ago, so…”

“Sweet girl,” Din rumbles slowly, a subtle warning for you to hurry up and spit it out.  His fingers tighten just slightly on your cheeks, still so gentle but needing you to communicate with him right now.

Tell him, you just need to tell him.  If he gets mad, then he gets mad, but at least he’ll know at that point and you won’t just be springing it on him out of nowhere.

“I fucked up,” you breathe out, eyebrows pulling up in the middle as you tighten your own grip on his hands.  “I’m so sorry, I fucked up and you were late and I got nervous and I didn’t wait long enough and I tried to make the exchange like you asked me to but then I had to take a fifth puck and I didn’t want to but Karga threatened to short change you next time around unless I agreed to take an extra one for the lowest pay just this once and I didn’t have any bargaining power and you showed up right after I agreed to the deal and I’m so so sorry—”

You cut yourself off with your own ragged gasp, not having paused once to breathe throughout the entire thing while your expression twisted up with regret more and more the longer he allowed you to speak.

Din stands there in front of you and doesn’t move, hands still attached to your face.

“Okay,” he eventually tells you.  Stunted words, like he’s trying extra hard to find them when yours just fell out of your mouth in a complete mess.  “It’s okay.  You did… good.”

The silence is tense and you’re becoming more and more anxious the longer he takes to speak.  He’s lying for your benefit, he must be.  When he drops his hands from your face and takes a full step back, you take the gesture as symbolic and nearly launch into panic.

“Maker, I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for—”  You start to say, but Din cuts you off.

“Did he make you…”  His back suddenly goes a little straighter, voice finding a quiet edge through the modulator as his fingers subtly twitch at his sides, “…Uncomfortable?”

You pull back at the sudden change in subject and furrow your eyebrows.

“Who, Karga?”  You have to think about it.  Did he make you uncomfortable, or were you just uncomfortable already?  You might’ve just been scared because you were making it scarier than it really was, you can admit that’s a valid possibility.  “Um… no?  I don’t know, not… not really, I don’t think.”

“No?”  He asks, taking a small step forward.  “You don’t know?  Or not really… you don’t think?”

You know you can only see the blade of his visor, but something makes you feel like you’re looking right in his eyes.  You even go back and forth between where you’re pretty confident each one is, trying to read his intentions right now.  It’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep space between you even though he looks like he wants to move closer, fisting his hands at his sides when he looks like he wants to touch you.

“No, he just… lowballed me towards the end of it and I got intimidated, but I’m also not…”  Your expression narrows in concentration while you try to find the words to explain yourself, wanting to be as honest as possible with him.  “I don’t know, I’m not like you.  I’m not that strong, but I’m trying to get better.  I think he was probably just being normal.  He did offer me alcohol a bunch, but I’m pretty sure he also did that last time, so—”

“And I didn’t like it the last time he did it,” Din says quietly, taking another small step forward.

You blink up at him, completely dumb.  This is what’s bothering him?  Is he really not upset with you at all for giving him more work?  It’s like the major fuckup on your behalf just went in one side of the helmet and out the other, he barely even acknowledged it other than the role Karga played.  He said it’s okay and you did good, which are like… five of the most common words in Galactic Basic, a Wookiee could probably find a way to say them.  How are you supposed to take that?  Were you just overthinking this whole thing from the very beginning?  You know anxiety tends to be irrational by definition, but has none of your panic from the past hour been justified whatsoever?

“Why were you so late?”  You ask him, but it’s not accusatory in the slightest.  It’s… concerned, worried about his well-being without having a real reason.  He’s clearly more than fine right now, he’s like a hurricane enclosed in metal and holding still in front of you.  Too much potential energy just waiting for a reason to be released, too much tension held tight and ready to snap.

“I’m sorry.”  He quickly reaches out to grab your hand and squeeze it, before dropping it just as quickly.  Fucking lightning quick, you’ll never understand how he can be so damn quick with all that extra weight strapped to him.  “It took longer than I thought it would and she’s not really someone you can rush.”  His response, ironically, feels very rushed, like he’s trying to address the tangent but also keep things on track, but something in the answer he gives catches your direct attention.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“Who is she and what can’t be rushed?”  You blurt at the same time, not even taking a split second to think about it.

Din stops short at the blunt question, staring at you in a silence that feels like it’s vaguely taken aback.

After a few moments of that… strangeness, of the two of you realizing that you’re both feeling slightly possessive over each other for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you start to feel… warm.  In another weirdly stupid, primitive way.  You know that letting those kinds of thoughts have their day in a relationship isn’t a good thing, but you can’t explain it.  Some deep-seated, prehistoric instinct inside you just goes fucking nuts whenever he gets in either provider or protector mode.  Now you understand exactly why he wanted to get you alone after you admitted to being jealous once before.  You totally fucking get it, you’re right there with him right now.  He hasn’t said anything, but you think he feels it, too.

“She makes things,” Din finally answers you, careful with his words and somehow managing to address your question while also sidestepping it, leaving you with only the smallest bit of information to go off of.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly.  “Maybe.  He could’ve just been trying to be friendly.  What did she make for you?”

“She made it for you,” he responds, again not really answering the question but continuing to juggle two separate conversations for your benefit.  “Did he scare you?”

“For me?”  You ask, eyebrows shooting upwards.  Provider, that stupid cavewoman DNA whispers to your lower body, making your voice go a little breathless.  “You asked her to make something for me?”

“Did he scare you?”  Din repeats sternly, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze.  “Because I can go back, I swear—”

Protector, it whispers this time, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Everything is scary when I don’t know where you are,” you admit to him, knowing it’s the truth regardless of how self-deprecating it sounds.  The only times you’ve ever truly been brave was because of him or the kid.  Stabbing a Corellian and then immediately flying the Crest out to him afterwards, walking through a pitch black forest believing a dangerous criminal was hiding in it, dragging a dead body through snow and shoving it into carbonite, standing up for yourself and pushing a deal through when odds were stacked against you.  Though it’s nothing to him, it’s nothing, it’s leaps for you.  You’re slowly learning to find a backbone, and he’s the one inspiring it.

Din holds there for a moment, unmoving with his hand still clutching yours.  You can’t get a read on him but you know how you feel right now.  Achy.  Hot.  Needy.  Wanting him to come closer.

“Will you do something for me?”  He asks you after a prolonged silence.  His voice is quiet, but… incredibly restrained.  Controlled chaos—his body is rigid and he’s flexing muscles that aren’t necessary for just standing, feeling like a sprinter holding still on the starting blocks.

“Of course,” you breathe out.

Din lets go of your hand and tilts his helmet over at the corner of the hull behind you.  “Go turn around and face that wall.”

You freeze, immediately recognizing the undertone in his voice.  Heat ladles deep into the pit of your tummy, sends warmth pooling downwards.  He wants to do this here?  Right now?

“We’re—” you look around the enclosed hull, “Mando, we’re not in hyperspace, we haven’t even left the surface yet…”

He looks around too, taking a second to blankly take in his stagnant surroundings like he had absolutely fucking no idea, before turning back to you and not saying a word.  Maker, everything below your waist is already stirring, twisting hot and deep inside, but you’re trying to be the voice of reason for a second.

“What if somebody hears us?”  You whisper, and Din cocks his head to the other side.

“I can help you stay quiet,” he murmurs, and… fuck.  You don’t know what it means, but you immediately imagine his hand held tight over your mouth while he takes some of this stress out on you and you already feel yourself wilting at the thought.  Okay.

“Okay,” you breathe without needing anything else at all, before spinning around and standing exactly where he told you to.  It’s just a corner near the back of the hull, nothing else here to look at besides two metal panels meeting at a right angle, but that’s admittedly what makes your heart start beating quicker.  You can’t see him come up behind you but you can feel it.  Slow, measured, but so restrained.

But then he stops almost immediately, before the back of your shirt is suddenly being yanked upwards and you remember at the very last second.

Din carefully grips his blaster and then eases it out of your waistband, the metal sliding warm along your skin from pressing against it for so long.  You never told him you took it with you, and he’s so fucking quiet behind you.  You have no idea how he’s reacting to that piece of information you originally didn’t think twice about.

“Do you like carrying my gun around?”  Din’s voice murmurs soft through the modulator to you, but then the blaster is tossed uselessly to the side, skittering loudly across the floor of the hull.

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to shyly turn your head back to look at him, hoping to gauge his response.

“Don’t turn around,” he quickly interrupts you, pushing your shoulder back into position and keeping you facing the corner.  You blink at the metal walls in a bit of a daze but follow instructions regardless, feeling your heart pound at the sudden display of dominance from him.  He has a very valid reason for it and you don’t realize what it is until a few seconds later, but even if he didn’t and he was just telling you what to do for the fun of it… you’d still like it.

But then his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head and you shudder as your vision is replaced with a familiar black abyss.  Fuck, his helmet, why does he like it so much when you wear this?  Admittedly, you don’t have much time to contemplate—as soon as it’s fitted and secure, he spins you around and you have to just do your best to maintain your balance, not having any visual to help.

“Can you hear me?”  Din asks, and your clothes start to be ripped off of you.  Your shoulders tip sideways with how quick he is about it, feeling him pull the fabric off and hearing the soft sound it makes landing on the floor.

“Yes,” you tell him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to strip you completely naked in the hull.  Once your upper body is bare and he’s yanking your pants and underwear down your legs, you try saying it again as you step out of them, louder for him this time.

“I can’t hear you,” his voice grunts after a moment.  You know he’s in front of you but you can’t really tell where, now that he’s not touching you.  “Scream.”

You take a second, not having hard evidence anymore but still very well aware that you’re parked close to a marketplace on Nevarro and multiple people are nearby while you’re wearing his helmet.  This is dangerous for him, and not sure if you should, but then an arm is wrapping around your back and a large leather palm rests directly over your chest.  Din repeats his last word very slowly and clearly for you, waiting to feel it under his hands.

Your sternum lifts while it rises with your deep breath and then collapses as you diligently yell as loud as you can into the helmet, feeling like you might deafen yourself with the trapped sound.

“Good,” he growls, suddenly spinning you around and pushing you back into the metal paneling.  “I can’t hear you, be as loud as you need.  Hit me or something, put up a fight if you want me to stop, alright?”

Arousal rockets through you and you let out a moan already, taking advantage of the noise suppression and beyond turned on at this point.  You feel like you’re buzzing with it, lit up with excitement and wondering with bated breath what he’s planning to do to you.

“Alright?”  Comes his voice from behind you once more, and you quickly jerk the heavy helmet in a nod for him.  You can put up a fight and you know he’ll stop, you don’t have any problem with that and the fact that he specifically made sure to wait until he knew you understood him makes you start to pant inside the hollow beskar.

But then you feel him flick a small switch at the base of the helmet and then everything abruptly cuts out and goes dead silent.

Nothing.  Nothing.  You’re standing in a pitch black room where no other sound exists besides your own labored breathing.  Just like the waterfall on Naboo, but you can’t speak this time.  Temporarily making you blind, deaf, and putting a proverbial gag over your mouth all with one powerful piece of armor.

You shudder and he kicks your legs apart before you can do much else, yanking your hips back while you just try your best to cling to the wall for stability.  You don’t know what he’s going to do, you’re completely isolated in here and the only way you can even tell he dropped to his knees is the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind.

Oh fuck—you arch into position as best you can while hands wrap around your ankles to pull them apart, trying to make the angle better.  His tongue licks softly over your clit and each time is like an electric shock jolting through your body, making you twitch back and up for him, stretching and begging him to do it again.  You can’t see anything right now so your mind readily imagines the visuals instead, providing you with a third party view.  Din, fully clothed and face shielded by your thighs, eating you out from behind while you brace yourself against the wall, completely naked and at his mercy, head tilted down from the weight of his helmet and living for the moments he decides to drag his tongue across your clit.

Without warning, a sudden burst of sensation ripples along your backside and causes you to lift the beskar in surprise, but without being able to hear anything, it takes you a second to figure out that he just smacked your ass.  The realization comes more or less at the exact time he decides to flatten his tongue and follow the curve of you back and up.

You gasp into the pitch black and there’s a moment where you just hold utterly still for him, experiencing and processing the sensation for the very first time.  His mouth is soft and warm as he tastes you here, his fingers digging into the swell of your cheeks to spread you open.  You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see the shock in your expression, the way your mouth drops and your eyes close as you let him explore you this way.

His gloved hands leave you for just a moment while he continues gliding his tongue against you, along every single bit of skin he can reach, and then you feel a bare hand reach up between your legs and begin to rub slow circles around your clit.  His other arm pushes against your lower back and you’re forced into the corner even more, your naked breasts pressing hard against cool metal and feeling his hot mouth and strong fingers work you closer to the edge from behind.

You’re panting into the helmet, your hips arching back to feel that stimulation on your clit better, and as his fingers move over it slow and strong, you feel a soft vibration against your skin and you realize he’s moaning into you.  The knowledge sparks a different kind of heat through you and makes you suddenly go still and tense right here.  If he stays just like this for even just a few more seconds, you’re going to cum.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” your voice warbles inside the enclosed steel—just as his touch decides to abandon your body.  You groan loudly in distress, completely alone without his hands or mouth on you anymore, but all he likely hears is the silence of the hull and the way your palm smacks against the wall with it.  You were so close, everything feels like it’s pulled up so tight and painful and it hurts—

A hand clutches your hip and then a thick cock is suddenly pushing up against your soaking wet entrance, going to alleviate that twisting discomfort.  Your eyes roll back and your whole body goes limp as he slowly eases forward and breaks you open, fitting himself deep inside where you love to feel him most.  Your hands claw down the walls with a swell of bliss as he pulls out and then starts thrusting—and fuck, you love this.  You love the way he’s trapping you up against the corner and making you see stars at the same time, the way he’s supporting your weight but crushing down into you, too.  It makes you go boneless and want to riot simultaneously, groaning loud into the quiet abyss as he gives you what you both desperately needed.

One of his hands sinks down between your legs to play with your clit again, while a slick finger presses up against your ass and you gasp as he slowly penetrates you there, too.  Din’s hips work steady and powerful behind you, pushing you into the wall with every desperate thrust, using the arm shoved between your legs to support you as well as stimulate, and you just feel yourself move into a different place.  You don’t have a name for it but it feels like hyperspace.  Silence so loud it feels suppressing, faster than anything light can touch, nowhere and everywhere, hurtling towards something you can’t see but know lies in the distance.  You can tell he’s still fucking the tension out of his body, you can feel him working another wet finger inside you and stretching the virgin muscles back there, but every sensation begins to slowly blur together in a wicked uprising of ecstasy.

You don’t know where you are anymore, just that his fingers keep rubbing your clit and you think he's trying to ease a third into you when your destination abruptly arrives.

You nearly collapse when you cum, contracting so hard around his cock and fingers that you cry out unexpectedly—and because of the helmet, you think it’s just as unexpected for him.  He stops moving—everything stops moving besides you.  Your hips stutter backwards into his stationary body, dragging your clit back and forth against the tips of his unmoving fingers and fucking him as best you can.  It shatters white hot and goes straight through to your soul, wringing pleasure and wetness between your legs in waves.

Your knees are knocking against each other when Din pulls out, his cock still deliciously hard and now soaking wet with your cum, and then they just suddenly decide to give up without warning.  You don’t fall necessarily, but you do slowly slide down the wall like a slug and Din follows you to the floor instead of holding you up any longer.  His sternum moves quick and heavy against your back as he breathes and then suddenly the same switch at the base of his helmet is flicked, and sound bursts into existence all at once.

He’s panting.  Harsh breaths behind you that match the rapid pace of his chest, and the ambient noise of the rest of the hull.

“Can you hear me?”  He gasps, sounding fucking wrecked, and you nod the helmet against the wall while gravity and exhaustion and his beskar chestplate squishes you into it.  “P-Put up a fight if you want me t-to stop, p-please—” he rasps out, almost the entire thing air and so close to cumming, and then his knees lift just slightly and the blunt head of his cock presses against your other entrance.

And, if you wanted, you absolutely could.  He’s got you boxed into the corner but he’s not constricting your movements, he’s given you every ability to struggle.  You could easily throw an elbow back against his side, push against the wall to shove him away, smack at his arms or even just flail against his body in panic—you could do one or all of those things to signal him to stop and you know he’d do it immediately, he’s asking you to.  You could struggle.  If you wanted.

Instead, you just grab hold of the beskar strapped to his thigh and drop the helmet to your chest, nearly vibrating with the thrill and preparing yourself for it.  You know he’s gotta be inches away from orgasm, you know from the tone of his voice that he’s right there on the edge and it’s not like it’s going to last a long time.  Thanks to him, you also feel like you’re just as slick and wet back there as you are between your legs, stretched open by his fingers while you came all over him.  You want nothing more than to give this to him, to let him be the only person in the universe that knows how you feel this way.

When you pointedly do not put up a fight and even go so far as to arch your lower back for him in presentation, Din curses and his fingers begin jerking back and forth over your sensitive clit once more.  It might normally be too much for you, but your body is sparking with lust and quickly acclimates to the stimulation, learning to burn and ache for it, too.  Fuck, it feels so good, you tense and melt into it at the same time, letting him ease you back up to that peak once more.

He pushes up against the tight ring of skin and you can’t fucking explain it—his fingers keep rubbing your clit and he’s slowly pushing into your ass and—

“I—I think I’m—” you suddenly lift the helmet to gasp out in surprise, forgetting he can’t hear you, “ngh—D-Din, I think I’m gonna c—”

He’s just barely able to breach the tight entrance and fit the head inside before he freezes—and even though everything happens consecutively, it’s all so rapid that it feels simultaneous.

Your hips could go forward, but they don’t.  Your body decides to send you backwards into him, pushing him inside nearly halfway all at once as your muscles lock down and just fucking strangle his cock.  Your piercing scream gets trapped in the silence of his helmet as you cum once more—painfully, madly and with every fucking part of you for him.  There’s maybe one or two mind shattering pulses of ecstasy before the rest of your body catches up and starts convulsing, and by then Din is already gasping and fumbling behind you, suddenly realizing what’s happening without hearing the sound of your ragged warnings and then ripping himself away just in time.

He punches out your name when he cums like you just fucking snapped him in half—his body hunches and the beskar digs hard into your back as warmth starts splattering along your skin.  You crumple while he shoves his hips up against your spine, riding and working the orgasm out of himself while yours just fucking obliterates you.  You think you whine his name—or a curse word or something, but it gets strained and your lungs lose air every time his powerful armored body humps you into the wall of his ship.

Finally he eases up and you just lay there and listen to the ringing in your ears.  Blissfully empty, still pulsing from cumming so hard and feeling like your bones just decided to stop existing and the rest of you was okay with it since you were already on the floor anyways.  You feel him shudder and twitch behind you, letting go of that last bit of tension until he too allows gravity to slouch his heavy torso over onto you.

You both stay like that for a while, until your eyes close and your everything below your waist goes numb.  Eventually you feel him shift and your head bobbles as the helmet is slowly removed, but a large palm cradles your chin to stop your face from slamming into the wall in exhaustion once it’s off.  You just continue to melt into the paneling like you’re nothing more than goo of a human being while he trades it back to its rightful place on his shoulders and tucks his cock back into his pants, before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you both up.  The floor and metal walls, once feeling like you and them were one, suddenly decide to disappear entirely as you’re hauled up into Din’s powerful arms.

He slowly carries your naked, fucked senseless body over to the fresher, and you squint your eyes open over his shoulder to see… he’s still got his rifle slung around his back while his cum is dripping down yours.  Not a single thing on him is out of place and you’re, well… a mess is a word that works.  Limp and doll-like, carried like your weight is practically nothing to him after years of having the densest armor known to the galaxy strapped to his body.

Setting you down is a mess, too.  At some point you think he just gives up and decides to return you to your humble floor abode with a patience and care unexpected from someone who just defiled you so thoroughly.  You hear the fresher door open and the faucet squeak, before he turns back around and crouches to your level.

“Stay here,” Din tells you lowly, his modulated voice coming gentle and warm through the sounds of water raining down against metal.  You don’t feel his touch directly, but your hair moves away from your face.  “I’ll be right back, okay—just stay here.”

Can do.  Easy.  He waits until you murmur a soft mhm to him before he leaves the tiny compartment, and then you soon hear his heavy footsteps ascending the ladder to the cockpit.

***

You don’t think you fall asleep, but the powering up of the Crest’s thrusters make you realize your eyes were closed.  Opening them barely qualifies as a squint though; you look around to see steam slowly filling the fresher, the water already running hot and welcoming in the small room.

You know you need to shower but you’re so fucking exhausted, you feel like you can’t even move your body.  You also know you can just do the same exact thing in there as you’re doing in here, you just need to muster up the energy necessary to get inside it and then fall back asleep.  He set you down in the small little space outside the shower door and then got everything set up for you, you can at least stand up and take a few steps.

Unfortunately, you might pick just about the worst time possible to plant your hands on the ground and work to struggle upright on all fours like a newborn animal.  The steady rise through Nevarro’s atmosphere pushes gravity down harder than you’re expecting—is he trying to fly quickly or are you just that dead-limbed?—and then of course, by the time you do manage to fight it and successfully get on two wobbly legs to hold yourself up, the subtle shift of the hyperdrive kicking in nearly knocks you back down again.  You stumble and grab the walls, bracing yourself against them and looking down at your knees in exasperation.  Come on, work.  Move forward.  Come on.

You’re glad he’s not here to witness this monstrosity, honestly.  Just opening the door and taking a few steps into the fresher is a feat—while you’re not in any pain and he didn’t leave any marks on you, you just feel… steamrolled.  Ran over by a truck.  Only having the strength to keep your feet beneath you as you finally move under the water and close the door behind you.

Oh, but this is wonderful.  This was such a good idea, he’s so fucking smart.  The shower falls warm and lovely against your body, wetting your hair and immediately heating you down to your bones.  You don’t move really at all—you kinda just stand there and slouch, closing your eyes against the spray and slowly breathing the mist into your lungs.  It feels so nice—not really restorative even though you like that word, it would imply the water provides you with any energy whatsoever.  It just feels like a comfort, a relief and sedative for your already wildly fatigued body.

You haven’t been in here for more than a minute or two when knuckles tap gently against the metal walls of the fresher, before the natural bass of Din’s unmodulated voice murmurs from somewhere beyond it.  “Hey.  Keep your eyes closed.”

How did he know?  You figured you’d be way ahead of him.  You’re standing but slumped over, wanting nothing more than to just say fuck gravity and pass out right here.  The walls are too cold to lean against now that you’re all toasty from the heat and steam, so you’re just unconsciously swaying on your feet, trying to balance the precedence of sleeping versus not falling over.  You don’t even comprehend the sudden flip of the light switch overhead beyond the fact that it makes it easier to snooze without being so bright behind your eyelids.

The door eventually opens at the very same time you realize you never answered him, but you just commit to the silence at this point.  It’s easy, you like it.  Soon you feel warm hands touch your shoulders, slowly spinning you around while you follow and hang your head, your neck not wanting to support it any longer, and then suddenly a bare chest is pressing up against you and powerful arms are wrapping around your body, and you can just lean all of your weight into him while your head rests right here on his shoulder.

He holds you without moving for a long time, keeping you just like this—your ear pressed against his skin while water rains hot and comfortable down your back.  Knowing you’re facing one of the walls, you crack your heavy lids just the slightest bit and finally notice the tiny compartment is dim and shrouded—the only light source is a single one coming from somewhere in the hull beyond the partially closed doorway.  It’s dark and quiet and you can barely see anything besides the metallic fresher walls and unfocused droplets chasing each other down Din’s naked skin.  Just you and him, flowing water with a sheet metal backdrop.

You think you spend an eternity like that and yet you still find yourself wanting another when he finally shifts, reaching over you to grab a bar of his generic soap but making sure to use the arm whose shoulder you’re not currently resting against.

It glides slow and hypnotic down your back, dragging up over your sides and then back down the curve of your spine.  He’s so sturdy and he doesn’t say a word while he does it, lathering it along your body and rubbing it into your skin.  His bar of soap, not yours.  They started out almost the same since you picked them up at the same vendor, but there’s just a slightly bolder and sharper scent to his that you recognize.  How the bar is far larger than yours because of how often he’s gone away.

Your eyes droop and you feel the water trail over your lips, dripping down your chin and pooling the dip of his collarbone.  The only other time you two shared this fresher was terrifying and he’s rewriting the memories right now, whether consciously or not.  Hot water, not freezing cold.  Standing upright and supporting you.  Heart beating strong under your ear, taking care of you this time until you can care for yourself.

You… you just worry so much more now, it’s becoming an issue.  You didn’t realize how much until you nearly lost him, and you know in your heart that he’s just going to go away again.  Throw himself into more danger, tempt death as always, risk his life for mere credits while all you can provide in return is this.  Skin to skin contact.  Someone to hold.  Someone who knows him, who knows the way he struggles between reaching out for a softness that life has always denied him and clinging to what is rough and familiar.  Someone to remind him that there’s still gentle and forgiving things in this galaxy that won’t disappear when he’s gone, and that he can always come home to them, as long as he can manage to find his way back.

Something sad tugs hard at your chest.  You want to tell him not to leave.  Again, again—you want nothing more than to beg him to stay.  You don’t have anything better to offer instead; if he asked you how it would work, how you imagine your lives would go if he wasn’t hunting quarry on a constant timetable, you’d be hard-pressed.  You don’t know.  But you know what you want to say, because it’s two words you shouldn’t say but always find yourself needing to say regardless.  

Don’t go.

But, instead of two words, you give him three.

Instead of asking him not to leave you again… in the haze and comfort of his arms, you think you just tell him that you love him.

And… you also don’t think the water falling down on the two of you is loud enough to cover it up this time.

It’s not ideal, you know.  You know.  From his point of view, he just got finished releasing all sorts of pent up tension on you, overwhelming your body with the strength and power of his in a way that normal people wouldn’t take as an expression of affection.  But you know him.  You know that he finds it much easier to express the things he feels in a physical way, which is why there’s a bar of soap against your back right now instead of his voice in your ear, telling you all the things you’ve always wanted to hear from him in return.  You know that sex is how this all began and it’s likely just the closest link between roughness and sweetness that he can really put his hands on, something that can fit him equally as well as it fits you.  Love is different, it’s thrilling and scary.  Even to someone like him, who lives everyday of his life surrounded by thrilling and scary things, who’s seen more bloodshed and suffering and pain than you can ever even imagine, you know that it’s scary.

Din doesn’t say anything back to your confession, and truthfully, not a single part of you was expecting him to.  It wasn’t said so he could say it back.  It just is.  Some things don’t need explanations, they just are.  You’re okay with that.

But, you eventually come to realize that he always waits until you’re just on the very edges of sleep, holding out until your blurry vision and fading consciousness can trick you into thinking you only imagined it.  You won’t ever figure out if it’s purposeful or if he just needs that long to find what he wants to say.

Another soft, lilting sentence in a language you wouldn’t be able to translate, even if you could pick out a single word.  It sounds so beautiful though, regardless of how mysterious and far away its meaning feels.  There’s something hidden underneath.  You ache to know what it is.

But you’re so tired.  You just whine softly against his shoulder, not being able to transform the thoughts into sentences anymore but hoping he understands regardless.  He can’t just resort to bearing his soul in Mando’a all the time now, especially when you’re always on the verge of sleep when he chooses to do so.

But at some point, his arms subtly tighten around you and the pressure is one of the only things that’s keeping you awake anymore.

“I won’t ever ask you to,” he says to you, the quietness of his baritone getting lost in the gentle spray and your looming slumber.  “I’m…  not allowed to ask.  I can’t.”

Your expression twitches just the slightest bit against his shoulder in confusion, wondering distantly what word or sentence you must’ve missed from before that would make him make sense.  Was that a translation?  Or a continuation?

But then your wet hair is slowly moved away from your nape and his head tilts down, face pressing into your neck and voice lowering until it’s nothing more than a breath against your skin, nothing more than a confession that he couldn’t ever say out loud with his full chest.  It’s a secret he only ever wants you to know, a truth he’s choosing to admit to even though you could ruin him with it.  You have no idea how much, you won’t know for a long time just how much power he’s giving you by telling you this one very simple thing.

“But whenever you want to look,” Din finally whispers, the only version of I love you too that a Mandalorian knows.  “You can.”