#got on a waiting list. changed my name everywhere i could. and even after i got the prescription it took a year

[genstyle]

I'm scared of people. Just in general. A soft memory, huh? It was pretty recent but I wanna write it out! I had to leave my house multiple times this month because of pest control issues. I had to do a lot of laundry at a public laundromat. I've done it before and I'll do it again. I'm not comfortable out in public, still. But it was nice. I met a couple of old folks. I did my laundry among other people just trying to pay attention to their own responsibilities. Someone tried to steal my phone when my ADHD got the better of me and I accidentally left it unattended for a couple of minutes. I did get it back thanks to my Dad being there to phone it. I met a mother who seemed more scared of me than any one else in the laundromat. I'm used to it. I'm a tall, masculine looking, creepily quiet, dark skinned indigenous person, after all. She relaxed once I finished using the big washing machine and offered it to her. We joked about the frilly pink sock someone left behind underneath one of the tables. I met another lady who complained about how long the dryers took to get her towels properly dried. She taught me how the extension features of the dryers work! If you put in a couple of quarters before opening the door, then it's cheaper to add a few more minutes that way than starting the cycle again. I complimented the cashier about how fast she's learned to count change. She smiled and laughed at "the useless skill". An asian man came back to the laundromat two hours after leaving because he realized he took the wrong charger after he was done with his laundry. The lady who's charger he took was still there and they exchanged wires and had a good laugh. A taxi driver who was using the car wash next door wandered in at one point and gave every customer there his business card. He bragged about how familiar he was with the local native american community. I didn't want to believe it until I noticed that his business card listed a commonly used airline that I know the Northern Reserves tend to use. If he was confident enough about servicing that place then he wasn't kidding about being familiar with natives. My dad really tried to hold a conversation with that guy. He was interested in the little vocal ticks the man picked up. My dad knows a lot of Native languages and wanted to bother him about dialect. Luckily the man got out of the conversation by needing to go back to his car. A strange old lady tried to ask for my phone number. I spoke with her casually while she was waiting for a ride to pick her up. She kissed my neck when we said farewell. I don't know her name or anything. I overheard a bunch of middle school students who wandered in to buy snacks during their lunch hour talk about what the results of the elections could mean for them going forward. We're in the middle of Canada and even they know the future is concerning. I don't look forward to doing my laundry in public again. We have another pest control appointment in 4 weeks. It's not as scary. It's a weirdly human experience. Just doing laundry. Reminds me a lot of the movie Everything Everywhere All at Once. Next time it's just the physical aspect of dragging tons of clothing around that I'll dislike. The people make it not as scary.

Tell me a soft memory

[cliveguy]

trans person who lives somewhere where you can get a hrt prescription in under a month through a walk-in clinic: the biggest issue facing trans people today is this take i saw from a 20 y/o on twitter

[mewhenimanangel]

everywhere ʚɞ miles morales x reader

pairing: 42!miles morales x reader

synopsis: you got your schedule changed after an altercation. suddenly you’re everywhere in miles’ life.

wc: 2.0k

warnings!: swearing, violence

next ʚɞ

you were sitting in your guidance counselor's office, getting a schedule change. you got into a fight with someone in your third period, so the ultimate decision was changing what class you had then. you changed it from algebra 2 to physics. "girl you're just lucky the bransons aren't gonna press charges against you" your counselor said, typing up something on her computer.

"don't see why they would it was literally that bitch's fault." you mumbled the last part. "hey, watch your language in here!" she scolded you. "ms. bennett knows you're coming to her third period, so go now before you're any later" she said dismissing you.

you walked into the class and a couple heads turned to you. "oh y/n, you could sit..." ms bennett drew out looking around the room. "oh there, there's a seat open next to miles" she pointed to the back of the room and you followed her finger.

there was a boy sitting there, seemingly in the middle of drawing something. his hair was plait back in two braids, purple hoodie over the school uniform, he had dark brown skin and brown eyes staring back at you. he rolled them as he picked up his bookbag that was sitting in the chair next to him.

you walked over to the desk and sat down "hey i'm y/n" you said in a flat tone, if you were gonna be in this period now you might as well talk to someone. "i know, i can hear" he mumbled not even bothering to look at you.

you rolled your eyes at his attitude - so much for trying to talk to someone - and just focused on ms bennett. you knew who he was, you'd seen him around the halls before with his friends. he often got into fights and would butt heads with teachers. though you knew he was smart, he had to be he was in advanced physics after all. and when your school had their annual awards ceremony at the end of the year he would always be on the list.

you glanced at him a few times through the side of your eye, looking down at his doodles on his worksheet. he looked up and noticed you staring "what you want help or something?" he asked in a sour tone. "no, i can do my own work" you rolled your eyes. "then stop staring at my paper" he scoffed.

"whatever. your drawings are nice." you complimented getting back to your work. he didn't say anything he just looked at you before getting back to writing. "so you don't know how to say thank you?" you said not bothering to look at him. "do you ever stop chatting? maldita boca ruidosa"he spat, mumbling the last part. "why'd you even come to this period? heard bout ya fight is that why?" he asked.

you looked over at him and answered  "yeah, it was that dumb bitch melanie's fault anyways don't know why they didn't move her schedule" rolling your eyes.

"i saw the video, you really beat her ass" he blew a quick breath out his nose. "she deserved it" you scoffed. "what happened?" he asked you. "now who's the one that won't stop chatting" making him roll his eyes. "she said something about my mom and ain't shit was funny" you told him, sighing looking back down at your paper. he noticed your mood change and decided not to press any further, getting back to his own work.

the bell rung and you grabbed your bag handing in your paper. miles watched you leave, your friend safiya, waiting by the door. he knew who you were even before ms bennett said your name. he would see you around the halls, you were usually quiet and kept to yourself unless you were with safiya. if you were with her he would always hear you guys laugh, watching as you threw your head back at something she said.

he admired the way you carried yourself, you always looked nice and made yourself look as good as you could in standardized uniform. he had to admit he thought you were pretty - the way your curls framed your face, the little beauty mark you had on your cheek, the shade of lipgloss you wore that complimented your warm brown skin.

when his friends went up to him telling him you got in a fight with some girl, he was a little shocked. he didn't take you as the type to throw hands. in the video you had her pinned to the ground, straddling her waist throwing punches at her face. she was fighting back of course but not any where near hard enough to stop you. when ms bennett and another student ran up to pull you off each other you were yelling a string of curses at the girl, blood pooling by her nose. he figured whatever she said to you must've been bad.

the day continued like normal for you two until seventh period when you had to go to your new math class. "y/n sit right there in front of that desk." your teacher told you. she got to teaching for the next five minutes until the door opened "morales where were you?" she cocked an eyebrow at him. "bathroom. i literally asked 'fore i left" he brushed off heading for his seat. he furrowed his eyebrows seeing you in front of his desk.you shot a playful smile at him that made him roll his eyes.

he sat down and leaned forward to your ear "why are you here?" he whispered. "i switched classes dummy" you turned to the side. "yeah but why you sittin by me again" "i got put here, that's what you get for wanting to play mr loner and sit away from everybody" you smirked. "what-" he was interrupted by the teacher "miles, pay attention and stop chatting" his tsk made you snicker.

the last bell rung and you got up to leave the class, dropping your headphones on your way out. miles was about to leave when he saw them sitting on your chair. he sucked his teeth and shoved them in his pocket, leaving the class.

you and safiya walked down a few blocks to your favorite bodega for an after school snack. "lenny you have any more beef patties?" you asked, leaning on his counter. "you love them ting eh?" he chuckled, ringing you up. "one in the back, i got to restock" he pointed. "i miss you now, they wrong as hell changing your fucking schedule instead of that bitch." safiya groaned, grabbing a bag of chips from the aisle next to you. "dead wrong" you agreed, heating up the patty.

you went back to the counter to pay lenny when you heard the bell ring at the door. "tienes que estar bromeando" miles groaned. seriously why were you all of a sudden everywhere. "aw hey stranger" you smiled at him. "you obsessed with me or something chica?" he asked before going to the counter. "who would be obsessed with you? please" you scoffed, taking a bite of your patty "whatever, lenny you got any more beef patties?" miles asked the man.

"nah sorry bro. she got the last one" he apologized, pointing at the patty you were in the middle of biting. you nervously laughed as miles turned to glare at you. "culo molesto" he mumbled to himself. "aight just get me this" he said putting down a snickers bar and an arizona. he was about to leave with a scowl on his face but you stopped him "look if it's that serious, just take this half" you tore the patty in two. "it ain't that serious" he brushed off. "you obviously want it i can see that damn expression on your face. just take the thing dummy" you rolled your eyes pushing it in front of his face.

he rolled his eyes and this time there wasn't any meanness behind it, you saw his face light up by the tiniest bit. he took it in his hands "thank you." he mumbled. "aw you have manners" you said, you and safiya moving to the door.

"good night lenny!" you and miles called out to him. you shot a glare at each other, before he left and the two of you followed behind. you walked with safiya until you reached her turn "i'll see you tomorrow stink" she called out to you. "bye bebe" you kept walking seeing a familiar head of braids kneeled on the ground tying his shoes.

you decided not to bother him but he heard you coming anyway. he glanced over his shoulder doing a double take when you saw you. "alright are you following me now?" he mumbled.

he was getting really suspicious of your sudden appearance in his life. he was a little worried that it was in relation to him being the prowler but on the other hand something about you was so soft and harmless. "i live up this way, dummy" you rolled your eyes. "i have better things to do than follow you around you know" "whatever, you been everywhere today and it's mad weird" he kept walking. "yeah that's kind of what happens when you share a class" you joked.

he looked at you through the side of his eye as you two walked in sync. "anyways i gotta go this way, i'll see you tomorrow dummy" you said, quickly crossing the street. he watched you walk to your building admiring the way your hips swayed when you walked. he kept walking when he saw you walk up the stairs and enter through the door.

ʚɞ

"baby can you go pick up some groceries?!" your dad called out from the kitchen. you groaned before trudging to your dresser to put on some sweatpants. "thank you baby" he said to you, you ignored him and grabbed the money and the list in his hand before putting on your slides and leaving the apartment.

you didn't hate your dad but when your mom died you grew distant from each other. he just got weird and his temper grew shorter so you just began avoiding him. after every argument you guys had he would just buy you things hoping that would make up for it, and it did. but for the most part, you just wanted your dad back.

you walked down the street keeping your hand in your pocket on the small knife you carried for safety reasons. you went to the grocery store and picked up everything on his list, including a little something you wanted. you checked out everything and made your walk back home.

something was off though, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. and not just someone looking at you but peering into your soul. you looked over your shoulder to see if someone was following you but nothing just people on the street minding their own business, laughing with friends, and two people arguing. you sped up down the street and didn't relax until you entered your apartment, putting the bags down on the counter and going to wash your hands.

♱

miles jumped over the rooftops making his way back home. he'd just finished up prowler duties and he needed to go clean all this blood off him. something on the ground caught his attention, it was you. what the hell were you doing out so late by yourself, are you insane? he was in a hurry to get home but something compelled him to stay there and watch you.

he followed you on the rooftops, making sure you got home safe. he noticed you looking paranoid and scurrying into your building. he waited for a minute before jumping back to his building, going down the fire escape. he couldn't stop thinking about you that night, even when he was squeezing blood out of his clothes into the bathtub he was still thinking about you.

taglist? ౨ৎ

[withahappyrefrain]

If your requests are still open, please may I request number 23 from the fluff list for our favourite cowboy Rhett Abbott? I've never watched Outer Range but thanks to Tumblr I'm now obsessed with him 😍 I am also crazy obsessed with your writing and have spent most of my lunch hour reading through your work. You are one talented lady 😘

Hello folks, I present Smitten!Rhett. Some language, lots of pining. I can't write a blurb to save my life.

Shoutout to @rae-gar-targaryen for reading over this and giving amazing feedback and being the reason why I was able to end this fic

You stood out like a sore thumb at the bar. 

The neon lights highlighted your sweet smile. How your eyes lit up and the corners around them crinkled. The way your nose slightly scrunched up as you waved your delicate hand to the bartender. The flex of your jaw as you called out your drink order.

Rhett couldn't take his eyes off you. Every motion, every little gesture, every small change was memorizing.

It made no sense to him that an angel like you was in a place like this. Not the bar, but Wabang of all the places. It just didn't add up. 

He was already three glasses of straight whiskey in. Normally that wouldn't bother him. Certainly wouldn't stop him from going up to you and making a move, just like he did with all the other buckle bunnies.

But that's not what you were. Rhett couldn't put his finger on it, but you were different somehow. He just knew it. So he just stayed in the corner of the bar, stealing glances when he could, observing you chat to other folks.

Disappointment flared through his heart when he saw you accept your check from the bartender. A whole night had gone by and all he had done was just stare at you.

Disappointment was beginning to morph into anger at himself when the most incredulous thing happened.

You peered up through your lashes, your bright eyes meeting his.

And then you smiled at him.

Your smile put him at ease. Rhett could feel all the tension leave his body, a lightness replacing the anger and bitterness he could never shake off until now.

By the time he had processed it, you were gone.

So Rhett looked for you everywhere after that night. He offered to go to the store, go into town for any little thing. He even went to church with Cecelia and Amy.

Not that he paid any attention to what the pastor was saying. Instead, his cerulean eyes searched for your face amongst the crowd, desperate for another encounter-one where he could actually talk to you.

Who needed heaven when you existed?

After no luck the following week, Rhett began to sink into despair. It was entirely possible  that you had just stopped by that one night, a pitstop in-between visits. It was entirely possible he would never learn your name, much less what your voice sounded like. You would just represent a million what-if's, a million regrets, a million-

"Can I get a gin and tonic?"

Rhett gripped the glass of whisky in his hand. The voice was sweet and lithe. It was comforting, like finding an old toy from your childhood that had been tucked away for many years.

Part of him didn't want to look, afraid to find disappointment. He shouldn't be afraid, considering all the disappointments life had handed him in the past.

Somehow he got the courage to look up. and suddenly, all the other nights he had come in to only leave alone and disheartened were worth it. There you were, at the bar, just a few feet away.

Rhett's eyes followed you as you grabbed your drink and walked over to a booth. You were alone.

Maybe you were waiting for other folks to show up. Maybe friends, maybe a date. Rhett's stomach lurched at the thought.

He didn't usually have a problem going up to girls and talking to them. In fact, he was known for it. He knew all the tricks; a tip of the hat to them, cranking up the drawl in his voice like a dial on an old radio, as he leaned in to whisper something dirty in their ear that he never meant, but it would get them into bed with him that night. 

And yet, the only thing he could (barely) get out when he walked up to you was, "Is-is this seat taken?"

You looked up to find eyes as deep as the sea staring at you.

A hesitant smile stretched across your face as you took him in. Meanwhile, Rhett was trying to count all the different hues in your eyes.

"Depends on what you're hoping to get out of it," you told him before taking another sip of your drink.

"A conversation?" He looked down at his feet, hoping you wouldn't be able to see that the tops of his cheeks were turning pink. Rhett feels himself flush with an uncommon sense of embarrassment, he feels stupid for thinking someone like you would want to talk to some cowboy who's more known for the notches on his bedpost than the number of successful rodeos he's been in.

Rhett was about to turn around, mumbling an apology when your voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"I'd like that."

It wasn't until you motioned to the empty spot next to you that Rhett believed what you said.

Talking to you was the easiest thing he had ever done. The conversation flowed freely as you two talked about anything and everything under the artificial lights of the bar.

You were new to town. The reason Rhett never saw you throughout the day was because you were a teacher at the local elementary school. It was also why you didn't come to the bar that often. You taught fourth grade, the solar system was your favorite subject to teach and you had a cat named Rusty.

Rhett was a man of few words, except apparently when it came to you. For the first time since God knows when, he found himself comfortable talking about himself. What bull riding was like, growing up on a ranch, dumb shit he did in high school.

Every time self-doubt began to creep its way into his head, trying to tell him that no one, especially you, wanted to hear him, your bright eyes and sweet smile reassured him.

He liked it. He liked you.

Which was why when he saw sleep in your eyes, he said "We should do this again."

"I think we should," you grinned, the gesture making Rhett's heart flutter.

And so that's what you two did. You would meet up, sometimes at the bar, sometimes at the local diner. Occasionally, Rhett would take you out to the pasture and the two of you would lie in the bed of his trunk with pillows and blankets while you watched the stars.

No matter the location, the two of you would just talk, learning about each other as much as possible. Trying to make each other smile as much as possible.

"You have a great smile, you should show it more," you told Rhett, secretly enjoying how the tips of his ears were turning pink at your compliment.

"You make that easy," He muttered, slyly grinning at how your nose scrunched up, a tall tale sign that you were flustered.

It was true. Life was a lot easier to swallow when you were around. You were the highlight of his day and he counted down the minutes until he could see you again.

Rhett never thought about married life until you came along. He always assumed that wasn't for him, given his numerous failed attempts at being in a relationship. After Maria, he assumed that it just wasn't in him.

Perhaps there wasn't something wrong with him. Perhaps he had just been with the wrong people.

Because he could envision that life with you so clearly. It was easy to imagine with you. 

It was why Rhett saw red when he walked into the bar one night to see Billy Tillerson talking to you at the bar.

That shithead wasn't paying any attention to what you were saying, he was too busy staring at your chest.

At first, Rhett wanted to go over there and punch him. But then that would put you at risk of getting hurt. As much as Rhett would love to give Billy a broken nose, he didn't want to hurt you.

So he opted for the next best thing.

"Hey Rhe-" your words turned into a shriek upon Rhett picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

"Back off Tillerson," Rhett spat as he carried you out of the bar, ignoring your demands for him to put you down.

"What the hell was that about?!" You asked once your feet were back on the ground. You two were outside the bar now, ignoring the strange looks from the other bar patrons.

"Did you see how he was looking at ya? He didn't want to actually talk to ya," Rhett huffed.

"I figured that out within two minutes. But I was handling him just fine!" You placed your hands on your hips, matching Rhett's stance.

"I don't like him being around ya."

"And who are you to tell me who I can and can't be with?" It wasn't that you wanted to be around that Tillerson. Moreso you wanted Rhett to define what you two were. This dance you two had started had been going on for about a month now. It could end one of two ways: you and Rhett happy or you heartbroken. You'd rather know the ending now.

Rhett knew that too. Which was why he took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"I'm your future husband, and probably, father of your future children." His voice was soft. Ironic, considering his words took the air out of your lungs.

"Probably?" Was all you could get out.

"I mean....we haven't talked about kids yet," He said, a sheepish look mixing with his flushed cheeks. His cerulean eyes that you thought about every night before you went to sleep were now looking everywhere except you.

"You haven't even kissed me yet, Rhett."

“I mean….I can fix that right now,” He ran a hand through his dark blonde locks, attempting to display some confidence after his whisky-fueled confession, “If-if you want.”

It was clear as day that he was nervous. Not that you mind. You had heard the stories, had been given all the warnings from your friends about Rhett Abbott. That he was only interested in three things: rodeos, drinking, and fucking. That he only looked for something quick that would satisfy his needs that night, leaving in the morning to never talk to you again. 

But that’s not what happened when you met him. You were careful to keep your guard up, not that it was up for very long. Rhett broke down your walls, washed away all your hesitation with his attentiveness and sweetness he showered you in. When you spoke, he didn’t just listen. He hung onto your every word, like a child desperate to hear the end of their bedtime story before sleep took over. 

For a while, you knew that he actually liked you. Knew that if you did take him into your bedroom, he wouldn’t run away before you woke up. But knowing and seeing it in action were two different things. And in the back of your mind, a seed of doubt still sprouted. 

Until now. 

“I was beginning to think you never would,” You smirked. 

Now it was your turn to knock the air out of Rhett’s lungs just by a few words.

“Minx,” was all he could get out before he captured your lips in a bruising kiss. You could taste the remnants of whisky on his lips. The way his large hands were able to cup not just your jaw, but nearly your whole neck made you feel safe and secure. In that moment, nothing else mattered; not the bright neon lights that lit up the bar sign, or the onlookers telling you to get a room. All that mattered was that Rhett’s lips were soft and they were on yours. 

“How many kids ya want?” He asked after you two parted for some much needed oxygen. 

At first his words confused you, then you couldn’t help but chuckle when you made the connection, “At least three. Maybe four. Depends on how I feel when we get to our third one. You’re going to kiss me again, right?”

And Rhett was never one to refuse his lady.

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

@rhettabbotts @mothdruid @sebsxphia @theharddeck @sovereign-lights @mxgyver

[farever]

Another mid July of hers

When I was thinking about this day, the word "suddenly" came to mind. "Wow, suddenly it's 26," I muttered. But then I realized that it was actually not a sudden thing that happened. that being this whole 26-year-old self was actually slowly happening since I was 25, 24, 23, and so on. That this self is such a constantly growing being, day by day, year by year.

I thought I was conscious enough of that, to live in the moment and embrace everything I have now. But it turns out the journey of being conscious is not happening in a day, week, month, or even a year, and then there you are living your best life consciously. It's more like a recursive lesson that life will teach you again and again in different styles without knowing where the finish line lies.

So many changes have been happening since the last mid-July. I finally got my second degree, landed my first job, got the second one, and even went across another continent I've never visited before to see how it was competently managed in a particular p.o.v. of mine. So many indelible moments happened, though, of course, they will always come with consequences in a bundle.

I thought I was good at learning something new, but there were times where I kept reading a paper for a week only to find out that I barely understood half of it the week after. There were times I spent hours just to find out one stupid error in my code could actually be solved easily by some random IT guy on stackoverflow ages ago (lol). Sometimes I cried, deep diving again into Dunning Kruger's valley of despair for the umpteenth time. Sometimes I think I am not capable of doing what I'm doing right now, but I remind myself again that this is a long-life learning process that I have decided to walk on, despite the seemingly endless list of fears I have had throughout this life.

Those endless lists of fears I had throughout this life.

If a phrase could depict the past six months of my life, it would be "to let go of fears, one at a time."

Since April, I finally decided to try an activity I probably feared the most as an introverted person: deliver speeches in front of people in English. It was challenging, yet surprisingly, I enjoy the process quite a bit: meeting new people, preparing & practicing for a speech (though it's hard as hell), and taking on some roles. Sometimes I think, Why have I even tried this hard to do something I do not really like? The answers are still hidden somewhere, waiting to be found some time later. But one thing I know for sure is that letting go of this kind of fear will put me at ease and allow me to keep on walking towards my dreams.

The same thing goes with these writings I kept for years. I finally decided to unearth them, to let go of fears I have against the possibilities of being read and known for my thoughts and feelings scattered everywhere on this microblog. I will let go of fears to be seen through the imperfections captured word by word—inconsistency, grammatical errors, anything you name it. This amateur, casual writer's indeed imperfect and will never be.

I have seen mid-July in different lights throughout the decades. One time it was like a blooming season; most awaited and felt so special. Other times it was just like another average, undocumented day in my life. But this time, I'd like to freeze it, turn it into immortal words that might remind my future self of all the precious learning and unlearning processes life has brought me to. 

Here's to another mid July He wants us to have, Far.

[purpleandsilver]

When I was homeless back in March, I got lucky. I was homeless because my parents wanted me to change bedrooms and I refused. It was because of my cats; I tried to compromise with them but they weren't having it so I left. The next day, I checked into a hotel. It was too expensive to continue doing so I spent another day sleeping in my car in the parking lot of my friends' apartment. The day after that, I used Google Maps to find my local homeless shelter. I got so very lucky that I was able to stay there for up to 30 days, I didn't have to pay to be there, and that all I had to do was clean up after myself, not have alcohol, lock up my Adderall, and be back before curfew on days I didn't work.

Here's the thing about homeless shelters:

- I could have enough clothes to fit in a small tote (I had about two boxes of clothes in my cars trunk); that's not a whole lot, especially since I live in fucking Ohio where weather changes like a politicians beliefs during election time

- Curfew limited the time I could spend with friends; it sucked because I have a friend who lives an hour and a half away. If we wanted to see a movie, it had to be during the day. Hey! Guess what! My friend worked during the day.

- Food I bought for myself frequently got stolen. Even when I put my name on it. (The shelter had limited food available, because of funding, so I bought plenty of my own things)

- I couldn't bring my pets or any other items with me that didn't exist in my backpack

- I had to, every week, write down a list of places I was applying to to get housing. Every. Single. Week. There was a week where I couldn't because I had applied to almost everywhere I could afford. I literally wrote the ones I already applied to and wrote "waiting for application status" next to them

- everyone slept in the same room; this isn't bad until you consider that I get home from work @ 3am, one or two of them had sleeping issues, and another was on a breathing machine

[mackjlee9]

Hasegawa Langa x Top!Male!Reader [Smut]

Requested by Kendall_leonard on Wattpad.

Warning; classroom sex, creampie, rimming, dumbification, feminization, use of the word pussy.

Masterlist.

Oh, my hand is better now, my fingers are still a little numb but the pain is gone :)

With the annual culture festival coming up, every class was busy selecting what they were going to do. (M/n)'s class wasn't an exception. But their theme was already chosen.

They'll be doing a play, what it was going to be had yet to be discussed. He didn't care much about it, as long as he doesn't have to play a major role in it. He was more interested in whatever Langa's class was going to be doing.

At the end of the day, the trio, Langa, Reki, and he walked together on their way home, and (h/c) haired male decided to ask them what they'll be doing for their class.

"So... what is your class' theme for the festival?" Both males next to him blushed and avoided looking him in the eyes. (M/n) looked left at Reki and right at Langa, both had the same expression on their faces and were stuttering.

"A... c-café...?" Reki ended up saying with a shaky voice, to which Langa just nodded in agreement, completely silent. (M/n) stated at them, but just shrugged and changed the subject.

He was going to check their café after the play was over.

///////

The following day, the first hour of the morning, (M/n) took his place as class rep, and walked to the front, he wrote the name of the play they were going to act on and listed down the characters.

The Little Mermaid, read on the board.

"Okay, we have to pick the princess... who's gonna be Ariel? Any suggestions?" None of the girls raised their hands, and instead, some boys gave suggestions as to who it could be.

Like that, every character was picked. And unfortunately, (M/n) got the role of Prince Eric.

Well, they had almost a month to prepare for it.

//////

Weeks went by flying, and it was already the day of the festival. His class got dressed and ready, as relaxed as they could, and started their play.

He didn't see Langa or Reki in the audience, which meant they were busy with his café, so as they were done, he changed into his gym uniform and ran towards Langa's class. There was quite a line when he got there, but he patiently waited.

When he reached the door, he realized two things. One, the butler at the entrance was a girl, and two, the sign above the door said 'Crossdressing Maid Café'. Well, that explained why Langa and Reki were so flustered about telling him what their class was gonna do.

He entered the room, and was guided to an empty table, he looked around trying to find a light-blue-haired boyfriend, or at least his redheaded best friend, but they were nowhere in sight.

He sighed, and picked up the menu, reading over and deciding what to pick.

"H-hello, master... I-I'll be your designated m-maid..." a quiet voice he knew quite well reached his ears, and he looked up.

His breath hitched, his stomach tingling and goosebumps showing on his skin when a shiver ran down his spine.

The maid dress Langa was wearing was a little short for him since he was one of the tallest in his class, the headpiece he had on made him look even better, and (M/n) was having a hard time holding back.

"M-master...?" Langa's shy voice made him snap out of his daydreaming state, and he let out a nervous chuckle. "What are you go-gonna order?"

"Uh... I don't know, whatever is fine, I guess." Langa just nodded, knowing exactly what he was gonna give to his boyfriend, and he turned around with a small smile.

The next ten minutes he spent there, (M/n)'s eyes couldn't help but follow Langa everywhere he went, frowning at the squeals of the girls from other classes whenever he walked by. But, he already had to leave the classroom, but before that, he called Langa over and made the male lean over enough for him to whisper something in his ear.

"I'll be waiting for you until your break starts, okay?" Langa blushed but nodded and he bowed towards (M/n) as a goodbye.

The (h/c) haired male waited right outside Langa's classroom, standing next to a window as he watched people walk by him, he only waited for almost ten minutes, and thankfully, he saw Langa walking out still wearing his maid.

"Sorry, I have to go back in fifteen minutes, so they didn't let me change," he whined looking down after he stopped in front of (M/n).

Even if they didn't have much time left (M/n) was thankful that Langa didn't change clothes, he had been feeling quite... horny for the past twenty minutes, so he knew it'll just take a few minutes.

He smirked and held Langa's hand, rushing down the hall and to his classroom. On the way, he felt inside his uniform pocket and he cheered to himself when he felt the keys there.

(M/n) dragged Langa inside and closed the door behind him, locking it and making sure the other door was also closed, it was, so he went back to Langa who walked to his desk and sat on it. The light-blue-haired male stared at him with an innocent look in his eyes, but it turned into a nervous one when he noticed the lustful look in his (e/c) eyes.

"(M/n), what-?" Langa couldn't finish his sentence, (M/n) slipped a hand under his thigh and lifted it to his waist, holding him by the back of his neck as he leaned down. Langa had to place both hands behind him to prevent falling off, and the next thing he felt was (M/n)'s lips on his, soon pushing his warm tongue in.

Langa couldn't help but whimper at the intense feeling (M/n)'s kiss sent through his mind and body.

"I'm sorry, Langa, but... fuck, you look so good in that outfit," he muttered against the male's lips, his hand reaching for his underwear and pulling it off his body. Langa was left gasping on the desk, his legs spread open, one of them bent on the desk, exposing his half-hard cock and twitching entrance.

Kneeling on the ground, (M/n) gripped tightly onto Langa's thighs, dragging him closer to the edge of the desk and going down between his milky thighs.

"Try not to be too loud, or we'll get caught," he muttered with a smirk before putting his tongue to work. He licked all around his rim, teasing him with just the tip of his tongue. Langa pressed his hand over his mouth, eyes gathering tears at such a light stimulation. He let out whimpers, his legs shaking as they struggled to stay spread open, but the urge to wrap them around (M/n)'s head was too strong, and the moment his tongue was inside him, his light-blue eyes rolled into the back of his head, he moved his hand away to grip tightly onto the desk as he closed his twitching legs around (M/n)'s head.

(M/n) looked up, groaning at the mess he made of Langa when he barely even did anything to him. His cum dripped down his thighs, and backing away to take a breath, (M/n) licked it off his skin before it fell on the floor.

Standing up, (M/n) held Langa's waist and brought him closer to his body, making him get off the desk, keeping a hand behind him on the desk while the other one reached to hold onto (M/n)'s shoulder.

"Turn around," he muttered against Langa's lips, the male nodding and slowly turning around, whimpering when he felt (M/n)'s erection pressing against his ass. He lifted Langa's skirt, caressing the pale skin of his hips, holding him a little bit tighter as he started humping him, clenching his jaw when the thought of fucking Langa while in a maid outfit crossed his mind, "Fuck, I can't hold back any longer..."

Hurrying to take his erection out, he pressed the wet tip against Langa's entrance, the male biting his lip as he felt (M/n)'s cock entering him.

Langa's legs trembled, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, his hands gripping tightly onto the desk, shivers running down his spine when he heard (M/n)'s satisfied groans, feeling every inch of his throbbing cock stretching his insides.

"Look at you, princess, taking my cock in your tight pussy," biting his bottom, Langa let out a choked moan when (M/n) moved his hips, thrusting deep inside him, his cock pulsing as it started leaking pre-cum, and for a split second, he remembered that he was wearing clothes that didn't belong to him.

"W-wait, the maid is go-gonna get... dirty~" he whispered in between whines while glancing back with glossy eyes, (M/n) slowed down the rhythm of his thrusts, and smirked, leaning closer to Langa's ear.

"Well, you're gonna have to hold it up, princess," (M/n) reached the front part of the skirt and held it up with his index and thumb, waiting for Langa to do it instead. The blue-haired male hesitated for a moment before grabbing it with both hands, leaving his red cock in plain sight, "Good girl~"

Langa let out a short but loud moan after those words, his body being held tightly by (M/n) who had started pounding his warm insides, stretching his walls, and hitting his prostate with every move. Langa's mouth was wide open, ragged breaths getting out of him, his eyes clouded with pleasure and crossing momentarily before rolling into the back of his head yet again.

It was so good, (M/n) knew exactly how to fuck him to make his knees weak, how to make him cum untouched, and how to make him moan like a whore, but sometimes, when his mind was too dumb on pleasure, he was unable to say a word, only heavy panting left his mouth as his tongue slightly poked out.

He was already so close to cumming, and his break was about to be over, "(M/n)- please-" moaning next to his ear, (M/n) took a deep breath, his fingers gripping tight on Langa's hips, his pale skin was surely gonna have bruises in a couple of hours, but it's not like any of the really cared about that.

"I know, I'm... gonna cum too, baby," clenching his jaw, (M/n) sped up his thrusts as they were getting sloppier by the second, a deep groan resonated in his chest when he came, Langa let out a high-pitched whine as his cum spurted out of his cock.

They took a few deep breaths to calm themselves before (M/n) pulled out, and Langa felt his cum slowly dripping out of his gaping hole.

"Is the maid dirty?" Langa looked down and checked the skirt before shaking his head no in response, quietly whining when he realized what did get dirty.

"But... I dirtied your desk..."

[no-droids]

Home

gif credit: @javier-pena

Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.5K

Warnings: SMUT, religion kink (maybe?), squirting, consensual stalking/pursuing, canon-typical violence, mention of underage drinking, uhh I believe that’s it but as always, let me know if I’ve forgotten anything please!

A/N: Hey yall!!!  So I know this chapter has been a long time coming and though I’m not completely satisfied with it, I hope it brings a little happiness to you for an hour or two while you read!  School has been kicking my ass and I’ve been in a bit of an emotional slump recently, but I pulled a few all-nighters to post this on time and it’s finally finished!  Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me and sent me encouraging words over the past month or so, I hope you enjoy the end of the Sanctuary arc💕

Also like last time, part 2 of my collaboration with @followwhereshegoes will be posted after the chapter!!  As a reminder, sweet girl is a reader insert and every imagining of her will be different—this is Lisa’s interpretation of her and her artwork is absolutely gorgeous, so please go give her a follow!

Day 5–11:13am:

You zone out again in the early morning, but that happens a lot.  Din always keeps you up so late, all the time, and without any caf here, the rising sun just makes your eyes droop instead of flutter brighter and wider.  You helped a bunch of younglings find their way into their robes when it was still dark out, tying sashes and fitting masks while holding back your yawns.  The walk into Nariss is close to three hours, probably more with all these tiny little legs, and you almost forget to change into your new digs before everyone grabs breakfast.

Even though your ragtag entourage leaves for Nariss just as soon as everyone finishes eating, you don’t reach the city until nearly lunchtime.  Mostly because the kids walk about as fast as the elderly holy women chaperoning the trip.  You and Naydee lag behind the group, forcing yourself to meander slow as fuck when you nearly sprinted this same exact path just a few days ago.  On the way there, you listen to children of all sorts sing happily as they walk, chatter about their excitement for the parade, complain about wearing the fabric mask they made themselves, and more than once, somebody takes a tumble onto the ground and is left in teary sniffles and dirt stained clothes.  Likely for this reason, the robes are designed to be two pieces—a long tunic with a hood and a separate pants portion to prevent tripping instead of a draping skirt, but the smallest ones are clumsy and find a way to fall anyways.

It’s a colorful bunch—a chaotic rainbow of babies running around, and you share easy conversation with your new friend about the plans for the day until she asks something that makes you nearly trip and join the dirty robe club.

“Sister Drya said your family is meeting you in the city,” she tells you, ignoring your immediate subtle toe stub and the awkward shuffle you have to do to make up for it.  “There’s going to be lots of people downtown, I’m worried it might be hard for them to find you.”

Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel a bit short of breath at being abruptly confronted with the need to lie, but at the same time, you kind of love it.  Having a secret, hiding the truth from others, and just the reminder that you’re almost guaranteed to see Din and the baby before midnight pours warmth and tingles through your tummy.  Everything together is a hit of spice, filling you with a kind of excitement that used to be foreign to you.  Having fun, experiencing new things isn’t quite over yet, but home is calling and you miss it with every fiber of your being.

“I don’t think so,” you eventually respond, hoping she can see your kind smile and the sentiment it carries even as light, shimmery fabric wraps right around your mouth.  “If I disappear, you’ll know why.”

Naydee’s eyes crinkle in the corners to match yours.  “Hopefully you’ll be able to see the fireworks first,” she nudges you, her skin glowing against the pale cream fabric she has wrapped around her own mouth and the hood laying delicately over her braids.  “They start at eight.”

The fireworks, you almost forgot.  You know what?  Today is a good day.  You hear yourself think the full sentence multiple times, and the words put a spring in your step after every single one.  The road gradually becomes wider and filled with more travelers, and you feel safe in the back.  Like some kind of sheepdog bringing up the rear of this migrating cluster of children, making sure none of them drift off by themselves and start eating grass or something.

Surprisingly, the kids manage to be relatively patient and well-behaved once they’re in line at the gates.  The Sisters shuffle them along one by one as everyone moves up slowly, taking even longer to get into the city than it did a few days ago.  The entrance is packed already—so many people visiting for the festival, and they’re all dressed in costumes or robes of sorts, or at least a mask.  Most are beautifully crafted, but some manage to look slightly scary even with the soft springtime color schemes.  It’s a completely different world, a different life for each person as you pass them by.  Your stomach is starting to growl by the time you finally make it to the front, and luckily the guards just let the kids through without any ceremony.  Just you and the rest of the caretakers in light robes need to hold still for the retinal scan, matching each other perfectly except for differing shades of fabric, skin, and eye color.  Once the gates open for you and you step through, though… it’s… Maker.

Extravagant, magnificent are both words.  Floral is another.

It’s like they hung up bouquets wherever they could think to fit them, and this is just the edge of the city.  As the group moves through the streets and closer to downtown, it becomes more and more overwhelming.  The air itself is a warm fragrance wafting all around you, sunshiney and breezy and perfect, flowers of all kinds lining the modern buildings and archways like they were planted there from the very beginning and it just took this long to bloom between the cracks in the concrete.  You wish you had names for all of them so you could list them—the only thing you can offer is the color and vague descriptions of the ones that stick out to you.  Tiny yellow ones that are so small, they need to be bunched all together in massive quantities to even resemble normal flowers.  Up overhead, elaborate arrangements of enormous blue and purple and pink ones, wrapping around each other and hanging down from rooftops.  Some don’t even have petals, it’s like they’re big green cups that are big enough to hold things inside them.  You’re fascinated by every single one, wanting to stop and smell them all individually but needing to keep up with the large group and not allow any stragglers to be left behind, including yourself.

About an hour later, when you’re almost in the middle of the city and there are people everywhere, it’s time to eat lunch.  There isn’t much to it because of how expensive it is, and you’d normally feel bad for accepting the small meal each one of the children gets, but you donated all of your credits to the Keja and left absolutely zero for yourself.  Good intentions, terrible idea.  Still, you pull your mask down and snack on some deliciously fried food, trying not to eye anyone else’s platter after you finish yours.  It’s so good and it’s gone in an instant; you couldn’t even say what exactly it was besides which stall you got it at.  Whether it’s just the brilliant atmosphere or if the food on this moon is really just that good, you’re not really sure, but you’re still slightly hungry afterwards with no extra money to sneak a snack.

Soon after, the kids all line up to get their faces painted, or whatever portion of their face is visible behind the cloth masks and hoods they’ve got on, and music blares from at least four different directions and none of the songs are even in the same language.  Depending on the part of town, it seems like the celebrations are all different.  It makes sense, considering most if not all of these individuals were victims of the Empire’s wrath, spread far and wide across the galaxy.  Here, they’re free, and they want everyone to know it.  Spring festivals of some sort are likely common for most cultures, at least those from planets with seasons, not like Arvala-7 where it was arid and hot year-round, and you’re assuming there are multiple things being celebrated today depending on which street you live on.  There’s chanting in different tongues, dancing and drums, outfits and masks from different cultures every single time you look.

At some point, the children spot a crowded street with flowery rails set up all along them, and you stand behind the tiny heads while everyone waits for the parade to begin.  You think your heart has just been beating slightly faster than normal all day today, but when you finally hear the sound of sirens blaring in the distance and cheers begin to pour out from the gathered crowd, it kicks up and you feel like you’re just as wide eyed at the spectacle as the waist-high babies all huddled together up against the railing.

A flurry of people and things pass in slow succession.  First, New Republic officers with their blaring holobikes, bright orange as always.  Then come large groups of people walking behind banners in languages you can’t read, some of them waving, some of them making different sounds and songs.  Bands marching in formation, dancers in dresses and masks and gorgeous flowers in their hair like crowns, and then brilliant hovering vehicles decorated in bright colors and festive depictions.  The craftsmanship and cultural significance is stunning to witness, it’s so insanely loud, there’s so much going on, and yet…

Through it all, you think of Din.  No matter the faces, the sights you see.  There’s someone juggling.  There’s either a very tall man and woman walking together or they’re both on stilts.  There are enormous balloons being led through the air, people are riding atop an assortment of animals you’ve never seen before, there are traditional costumes and spectacular stunts being performed.  Stalls with games and prizes line the stretches of concrete on the cross streets, people are laughing and celebrating and drinking in equal parts, everything is so lively and festive and fun, and yet, though it all, you think of Din.  Him and the baby, they’re always in the forefront of your mind, occupying your thoughts and making your tummy stir more and more as the time passes like the parade in front of you.  You don’t think this environment would ever be his favorite, and in some far away galaxy, perhaps if you lived other lives together and called a beautiful moon exactly like this home, then you might have to drag him out to see all the with you and the kid every year.  You’d have to bat your eyelashes and kiss his cheek and snuggle up to him all nice and pretty like, and he’d probably grumble and complain about it while wrapping his arms around you—all the people and the noise, sweet girl—but he’d go.  For you, he’d go.

Your thoughts suddenly stop short and you blink for a second.  Why… Why was that scene so vivid?  So wistful?  You used to preoccupy yourself with fantasies about Din all the time, back before you even knew him as Din.  But in every single one, it was sexual and likely came from a place of boredom, a lack of external stimulation.  Here you are amidst bustling surroundings, and you’re daydreaming about domesticity with him.  Why?  You want to travel the galaxy, right?  You want to see things you’ve never seen before, right?

For some reason, you think of the floor, and you miss it.

***

Day 5—5:04pm:

It’s late afternoon at this point and nobody can find the teens.

More people have made their way into the city and it’s starting to get extremely fucking crowded, especially where you are downtown, and the handful of them must’ve slipped away with all the excitement happening and how difficult it is to keep the young ones together now that the parade is over.  You don’t know how long they’ve been gone—one second they were walking around just slightly detached from the rest of you, you assumed because the boisterous younglings fucked with their cool vibe, and then the next Naydee is gasping out to you that they’re gone.

“Sister Drya is going to kill me,” she hisses, her dark eyebrows furrowed in self-admonishment and stress.  So many fucking people here, you know her pain.  “I was supposed to be chaperoning them, they were just here—”

She shakes her head under the loose, cream-colored hood, groaning and then speeding up her gait to catch up with the woman in charge, but you decide to grab her wrist before she can relay the bad news.  

“I can go find them,” you offer, speaking as low as you can with the blaring noise surrounding you.  “Before anyone knows they’re missing.  Is there a way to convince everybody to stay in one spot for a little while?  You won’t get in trouble, but I need to know how to find you again.”

Naydee’s eyes widen in surprise, and even though it’s likely a bit out of character for you, you have a feeling it’ll be a deceptively easy task.  Even with the masses right now and how atrociously big this city is, you already have a general idea of where they’re likely to be.  Besides, you’re not even sure your absence will be noticed if Naydee is the only one who figured out the teens were gone—the other Sisters can thrive without you while missing anyone else would be noticeable, and you owe your new friend a thousand favors for helping you out these past few days.  The least you can do is save her from the scolding of one of the scariest old ladies you've ever met.

“Be as quick as you can,” she finally agrees.  It’s a lot of trust to put into you, but you’ve had experience in reading the most unreadable man in the entire galaxy, some teenagers shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.  “If you’re not back in thirty minutes or somebody notices, I’ll have to say something.”

You nod, silently breaking away from the group without another word.  You think you can hear her announce to everyone that it might be best to eat dinner now to skip any long lines later—smart—but you’re out of their hearing range and line of sight almost immediately.

***

Day 5–5:17pm:

“Really?”  You raise an eyebrow since they won’t be able to see the way your mouth is twisted up underneath your mask, crossing your arms and tapping your foot against the ground to further illustrate just how not fucking impressed you are.

Seven teenagers freeze, and slowly—depending on how much bravery they can individually muster—they turn around on their stools to face you.  The atmosphere in the tavern is bustling and cheery, booze being passed around a large crowd that laughs and mingles, but your vibe is stone cold and quiet.  The contrast doesn’t feel wrong on you like it normally would; the negative and disapproving energy you’re emitting makes you feel powerful, untouchable, armored and strong.

“How did you find us so fast?”  One of the twin boys squeaks out behind a light blue robe, sounding worried.

“Had a hunch,” you grumble, glaring sternly at each of them in turn.  Your tone is dry, your voice sits lower in your throat when you’re pissed off.  All you had to do was look for the closest bar that doesn’t have any orange jumpsuits poking around waiting to card underage younglings, it wasn’t that difficult.  “You’re not exactly unpredictable.”

“Are you gonna rat us out?”  The other twin asks you, in a voice that’s oddly deep compared to his brother.

“I should,” you snap, quickly reaching out to push their drinks away.  “I should let Sister Drya rain down her holy fury on your asses, got good people all twisted up over you for nothing and I’m missing dinn—”

You don’t know why, but you suddenly cut yourself off and jerk upright, spinning around.

The sounds of glasses clinking and boisterous voices fill the bar, but they seem to fade out for a second.  Your eyes fly around the crowded space, your heart lodged in your throat and looking for anything reflective.  Every flash you see is a false alarm—belt buckle, wristwatch, cocktail shaker—

He’s here… isn’t he?

Only, there’s nothing.  Nothing is out of place, nothing jumps out at you the way you’re assuming it will.  You’re braced taut and ready to bolt at the first sign of a chase, but it never comes.

It’s so… unexpected, this feeling.  It’s not like you’re being hunted anymore, but instead, you’re the hunter.  You’re feeling the weight of him from this far away and it’s like he’s calling for you to come find him, teasing the wild adrenaline rush you get from just feeling his presence, as if he absolutely knows it happens.  Whispering soft in your ear and then vanishing the second you’re able to turn around, like he’s here but he’s not.  Playing with you from so far away.

This… this is a taunt.  

The whole thing at the inn was leagues below this, that was rudimentary.  Teasing, getting even, having fun with each other, whatever you want to call that, that’s what it was.  This is scarily sophisticated.  Fluid and practiced and the best kind of frightening, stark and dangerous compared to the carefree and upbeat setting surrounding you.  You’re not making it up, it’s not just you being paranoid.  You know him with your eyes closed.  You know he’s here somewhere watching you, just like you know the starlight that streaks across the pitch black horizon of hyperspace.  Not because you can see it, not really, not directly.  But because by it, even in the vastest and darkest and emptiest of voids, you’re suddenly able to see everything else.

“You okay, Nerida?”

The volume gradually comes back up and you blink, suddenly remembering where you are, who else is with you.  The chatter becomes slightly louder than it seemed before.

“Yeah,” you eventually say, slightly airy while continuing to stare emptily at the crowded room.  He’s not here, you don’t think, not anymore at least.  But you’re not stupid, you know what this means.  You’re already caught, there’s nothing you can conceivably do that will delay the reunion for the next—you look down and pull the loose sleeve up to check your communicator—seven fucking hours, there’s no way.  He’ll pull back and follow you, keep up with you from a distance and then snatch you away right when you let your guard down.  You at least need to get the kids back to their guardians before that can happen, though.

“Let’s go,” you quietly tell the group of foundlings, grabbing elbows and hauling them out of their stools.  “Naydee was the only one who knew that you were gone when I left.  Here’s to hoping she managed to keep it that way.”

***

Day 5–5:32pm:

Against all odds, you’re able to rally the wayward teens and successfully lead them through shoulders that are beginning to move closer together as the crowd grows and grows.  You stay towards the back and don’t look behind you once—not only do you not want to give the younglings an unnecessary reason to become paranoid or to question your actions, but you can still feel Din lingering.  Moving like a shadow, probably fitting in perfectly with the masked festival-goers, nothing drawing any attention to him with all the spectacular sights and noise occurring.

Soon you return to the same spot from before, and you and the teenagers seamlessly integrate yourselves back into the rest of the group without anyone noticing a thing is out of place.  When you move to stand beside her, Naydee’s bone-deep sigh of relief is palpable even behind the concealing fabric; she squeezes your hand incredibly tight in a silent gesture of thanks, and then pulls something from the deep pockets of her robe and passes it to you sneakily.  A purple fruit.  She must’ve saved it for you.

Maker, fuck yes.  It’s not much but it’s more dinner than any of the seven troublemakers get, but Naydee quietly assures you they’ll be able to eat something once they return to the Keja around midnight, just not the tasty expensive treats they’re selling at the vendors.  As the sun goes down, you try not to stain your pretty fabric a deep maroon as you chomp and feel your lips start to curl upwards.  It sounds so fucking stupid when you put it like this, but you keep going back to Din and revelling in knowing that he’s so close, like you’re just mentally checking in on him.  You don’t get the sensation by thinking, though—more like you just focus really hard on your heart and feel him there just a second afterwards.

Is that how pure, stupid, shameless love feels when you’re completely entrenched in it?  It’s not like it’s surrounding you, it’s not suffocating you or making you float.  It’s just a thing.  Like… a thing inside your chest, a physical thing you can search for and find, something you can point to on your body and say it’s right here, this is where my love for him lives.  Right at the bottom of your heart, right where it curves and beats strong when other hearts meet flat at sharp angles.  You do it over and over again, reconfirming its existence every single time.  You don’t know what else you’d call it.  Love is the only word.  To love, to know.  To hold in the heart.

Soon, you start to notice that people are slowly moving around your stationary group.  You look up and watch the crowd begin to walk, some of them giving soft smiles to the cute children as they pass by, but all of them following the same unspoken direction.

“Where is everyone going?”  You ask Naydee, standing on your tiptoes to watch the crowd migrate like a giant system, an organism or mechanism of thousands (or tens of thousands?) of smaller moving parts all traveling in tandem.  It’s fascinating—you’ve been to crowded places, you know what it looks like when a lot of people are packed into one area, but you’ve never seen what it looks like when they all move together.  They would normally be bumping into each other, slipping in between, fighting and never really getting anywhere, interacting individually and thinking separately.  Now they’re progressing in one single direction, so many with the same mindset and understanding of what comes next.  A second parade, almost, with New Republic officers directing the flow of pedestrians as they pass.

“The eastern part of the city!”  Naydee yells over the noise and points, and beyond her extended finger, you can barely see the light of a dusky body of water in the distance beyond the buildings.  “The fireworks are going to go off over the bay, but it takes awhile to get there!”

“Is…”  You blink for a second, suddenly caught off guard, trying to think back to the holomap the concierge pulled up at the front desk of the inn.  Surely you would’ve noticed it, but your sudden childlike hope makes you ask anyway.  “Is it part of an ocean?”

Naydee shakes her head.  “A really big lake!”

Your shoulders drop just the slightest bit in disappointment but still, you ache to see it.  You can’t even imagine—the fireworks are likely going to reflect across the water, giving everyone double the view.  And luckily, after all the children and caretakers are individually accounted for, you start to behind the slow-moving crowd towards the docks you know lie beyond.  

Naydee scurries ahead to keep the kids together, ushering them forward and preventing any drunk passer-bys from accidentally stepping on them, and you quietly bring up the very rear of the entourage.  You take the time to observe more than anything, walk in the back and experience instead of trailblaze.  So many people, so many stories to be told, so many differences and diversity around you.  Your face is partially concealed and you don’t move your head too much, just your eyes.  They flick around to take in everything, the crowd thinning little by little as you make it out of the confined space downtown.  You’re able to make out full bodies and outfits again instead of just heads and shoulders, allowing you to breathe just a bit easier under your mask.

And then at one point—and it’s almost a little startling because it happens all at once—the organizers must decide that the sun has officially gone down, because the lights come on.  All of a sudden, paper lanterns and bulbs flicker into existence all around you and the world decides it wants to glow, glint and twinkle from the inside out.  They’re everywhere, draping across rooftops and tangled around street signs and stuffed into the flower bouquets overhead, raining soft colors down on everything.  You’re in complete awe, trying to keep walking but also needing to look at as much as fucking possible in the suddenly luminescent city.  It’s so colorful, so vernal and warm and you feel like you’re… Like when you took a shower on the Crest for the first time and spent a few happy moments just playing with the water and soap for your own enjoyment, it’s as if all the brilliant rainbow of colors the bubbles would make under the fluorescent light decided to surround you at the same time.  You’re inside stained glass, blinking at the flowers and wondering if Din can even smell the air or if it’s filtered, processed and reduced to nothing under the helmet.

And that’s when you see him.

But with the way your chest rapidly constricts and you can count your heart beats as they pound, blaring white noise through your ears and adrenaline through your veins, it’s like he's just allowing it to happen.  You immediately understand that you don’t have fucking anything the second your eyes land on him; this isn’t a heads up that you caught wind of early, it’s not a gift or an advantage you’ve incidentally gained over him that you should be thankful for.  Being able to see him directly like this, being able to make out all these fucking details from this far away…  This just feels like you’re being informed of the endgame right before it comes.  If you were anyone else, if you were a real bounty and this was a real hunt, his armor glinting and reflecting the lanterns overhead would feel like a knife you're about to be on the wrong side of.

You have a decision to make, very quickly.  Either keep in this same direction, head straight towards him and just pretend like you are who you’re dressed as, a random caretaker for a bunch of rowdy foundlings during a spring festival on Nariss, or disappear.  Drop back, move through the crowd and use the distance you have between you right now as your only hope of getting away in time.  Neither one gives you a particular advantage—your chances of being caught have already skyrocketed exponentially just being able to see the reflection in his armor, the hovering shield at his side with big black eyes… staring directly at you.

You almost trip over your pantlegs, gasping.  Baby.  He beams at you and you think he calls out through the passing crowd, his tiny arms extending out, and your chest feels like you’re pulling organs as if they were muscles, cramping up and seizing with emotion.  You want to run to them even though you’re meant to be running from them, call out over the noise and wave even though you’re not supposed to.  You want to hold the kid again, squish his little forehead with kisses, walk around with Din’s hand pressed against your lower back and see the fireworks with him.

Your hands clutch at the draping fabric covering your chest, pulling and twisting it uncertainly.  What do you do, what do you do?

No matter what, you know it’s over.  Keep your head down and try to move past him, or break away from your group and try to escape—both are different paths that lead to the same result.  What’s the point of running when he’s the one chasing you?  The heart-pounding thrill is the only reason you’re even considering it, but his body stands so tall amongst the crowd, not moving while people ebb and flow like a river passing around him.

Except then you can hear his voice repeat the last thing he said to you in person as if he says it directly into the comm in your ear.  When you do see me… try to outrun.

You should run—run, it’s better than just hoping he doesn’t see you when you already know he does.

Unless…

Out of a trillion different possibilities, you soon realize that there is exactly one situation in which this could turn out in your favor.  You can immediately picture the scenario in your mind, but there’s just too many variables to conceivably rely on getting them all right.  This maybe has a… two percent chance of working?  Maybe?  Everything would have to go perfectly, just fucking flawlessly, but what other choice do you have?  Two percent is better than whatever odds you’re dealing with now.

You walk silently behind the group of foundlings as you approach closer and closer, keeping your head purposefully down as they skip and giggle and dance ahead.  He knows you’re here—he has to know, you’re counting on him knowing.  Walk right in front of him, pretend like you don’t see, make sure you keep left.  Keep left, keep left, keep your head down, keep your head down—

A leather glove suddenly catches hold of your wrist hard enough to tug you backwards.

Your gasp is audible over the sound of the crowd and you spin around, jerking your head up to look at him in fear.  Your heart slams as the beskar reflects your mask and hood back at you—you’re terrified and it shows, you can see it in your eyes.

You quickly try to yank your hand away, even as your index finger stretches up towards the communicator around his wrist.

“Miss Nerida?”  A child’s voice cries, and then small hands grab at you from behind as you bury the urge to actually fight him.  Your instincts are demanding you attack when his grip is this strong, but you just whine and struggle, slapping weakly at him with your free hand and feeling more of the younglings begin to pull at you, their high pitched voices calling more and more attention to the scene.

Your gaze flicks to the side, suddenly landing on a pair of New Republic officers helping direct the thousands of moving bodies from the closest street corner.  They’re looking at you, pointing and beginning to speak into their own comm units.  Din’s helmet snaps sideways to follow your gaze, and then he’s immediately dropping your wrist and stepping back, retreating as quickly as he caught you.  Though you don’t want to—though you don’t want to give yourself away even more, you want to pretend fully that he was a complete stranger and the children were right to try to help you get away—your eyes fall to your son in the hovering crib by his side and you feel yourself crumble just a bit.

Just a few more hours, kid.  A few more hours.

Children pull you away while your pursuers both disappear into the crowd, and you quickly turn to soothe the tiny babies instead of chasing after the one you miss so terribly.

“I’m alright,” you tell them, scooting them up and encouraging them to continue walking.  Blend in, blend in, don’t let anybody think anything is wrong.  “Come on, we’re fine, come on, we have to catch up.”

They take your lead as soon as one of the caretakers turns around and sees the small group crowding around you.  You think she asks what happened, but you just tell her a man mistook you for someone else and nothing more comes of it.  She’s able to settle the chaos better than you are, and by the time you’re continuing to travel forwards once more like nothing happened, the communicator suddenly flicks on in your ear.

“What did you do?”  He breathes out, his footsteps moving fast through his voice.  He’s traveling much quicker than you expected—is he still being followed?  The officers are gone from your sight, they might be going after him right now, weaving between bodies and calling out to the perpetually vanishing glint of armor as he navigates his way out of danger.

You look down at the comm on your wrist and your heart nearly soars with victory.  It worked.  It worked.  You just have to outlast a bit longer, don’t draw any extra attention to it—he’s preoccupied and he certainly doesn’t sound happy, but you hope that’ll be enough to make him slip.  Use his frustration to your advantage, let him think the only thing you were successful at was momentarily escaping him.

“The cops weren’t part of the plan,” you admit quietly, keeping your head down as your loose hood billows in the twilight breeze.  “Don’t get caught.”

There’s a few moments of just his breathing, his footsteps, and the noise floor humming through the comm, before he finally responds.  “You look beautiful.”

You stare unseeingly down at the concrete under your feet, still feeling your hand tingle from where he caught you.  The line abruptly mutes on his end and you just keep moving forward, onward, wanting to look back but knowing he’s already long gone.

***

Day 5–5:24pm:

Din is fucking furious.

He had you.  You were right there, right in front of him, and even if he hadn’t been subtly trailing you all day, seeing the red footsteps get covered and flicker out of existence just a few moments after you make them, he would’ve recognized you anywhere.  In black and white, in the fading light, with your face covered, children calling you by a different name and attaching themselves to you like they’ve known you forever—doesn’t matter, he would’ve known you.  Your eyes have always given you away, always so expressive and starry and soft, but able to see right through solid steel whenever you look at him.

But then you slipped from his grasp, and then more guards pushed him further and further away from you.  They must all be in constant communication, because every single jumpsuit he sees immediately spots him and starts following.  It’s fucking exhausting, and he thinks of you the whole time.

He waits in a dark alley with the kid and taps the side of the helmet a few times to bring up the time on his comm, but then relaxes just slightly when he sees the hour.  It’s earlier than he thought it was, he’ll be able to find you again.

Though, something tugs at him while he’s looking at the clock ticking away in front of his eyes, counting down each second that passes.  There was… a moment.  Back in the square, when he was holding onto you again, when you were looking directly into his once more—everything in his helmet— 

No, he shakes his head while the kid looks up at him curiously, it can’t be.  It was just a split second, it was gone so fast.

But he can’t get rid of it.  Though there’s no explanation, he thinks the display screen flickered.  The sky behind you looked different for a single frame, your footsteps weren’t bright red and visible anymore, your eyes weren’t grey and he stopped wondering what shade of fabric you and your friend decided to choose for you to wear.  It was silvery, he’s almost certain.  Like his armor, it only reflected the color of everything around it.

Color.  Everywhere.  Bursting for a blink of an eye, and then gone just as quick, before he could actually figure out what it really meant.

***

Day 5–6:59pm:

This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.

It doesn’t ever really get truly dark thanks to the enormous hanging moon and ringed gas giant dancing with Sanctuary II, constantly reflecting light back onto the surface and reacting with some of the trace chemicals up above the atmosphere, and you think the sky just might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen it.  Must have something to do with the equinox, the glimmering angles of light being played with by celestial bodies in this stunning system, but it’s a dream.  The Maker apparently couldn’t decide which colors he wanted tonight so he just splashed all of them together all at once, let them run and blend like ink in the gentle water below, like the various people who call this moon home.

That view in front of you, coupled with all the flowers and lanterns lining the streets behind you, and you’ve lost track of time the exact same way you hoped Din would.  You think you’ve stood for about an hour or so in this one spot, half-listening to excited chatter from the babies, mostly just gazing across the stretch of water and being able to just barely spot the docks in the distance, but it feels like it’s only been minutes.

You check your watch—the fireworks should be starting any second now.  You don’t know what to expect, just that in your experience, explosions tend to be loud.  You've decided you’re not going to plug your ears, though.  Tummy twisting with nerves and another inexplicable feeling you can’t quite put your finger on, you resolve to experience the unknown exactly the way it’s meant to be.  Fully, without worry or fear.

Then, lacking any warning or ceremony whatsoever, a single flare launches silent and high from one of the small boats skimming the bay, and the crowd seems to hold its collective breath as the dim light disappears into thin air for a split second, before—

It’s… quite possibly the most dazzling thing you think you’ve ever seen.  So shamelessly decorative just for the sake of it, not serving any other practical purpose besides celebration and visual spectacle, and you’ll probably never know another extravagance like it.  You grew up with dust pelting against tired eyes, you never thought they’d get to reflect such gorgeous bursts of color back up at the sky, glassy and childlike amongst a group of equally wide-eyed children.

As expected, a deafening boom follows closely behind the singular display, but just witnessing it is incredible enough to make you forget to brace yourself for the sound and you jump almost violently in response.  There comes a loud cheer from the people standing around you, a few delighted gasps and children who decide now is the best time to start crying, but then more flares begin to launch from the boats and the subsequent show will sear itself into your memory to replay over and over again.

Still, you think the endless sky and dark water below would have to light on fire to stop him from coming to mind.

Din.

You click the comm on, continuing to stare in stunned awe but wanting nothing more than to hear his voice right now, feel his hand rest on your lower back and the kid’s three fingers squeezing one of yours while the stars rain down from above.  You’re only continuing to run from him because it’s expected of you, that’s the reason you’re here, but it’s becoming harder and harder to argue with yourself.  “Do you always see in black and white?”

It takes him just a few seconds to respond, but he always does.  “Only when I’m tracking someone.”

The loud booms can be heard over the earpiece, happening maybe a second after they crack and sparkle above you.  You can’t tell if the latency is due to the electronics or if he’s just that far away from the source of the sound itself, but… you don’t think he is.  He feels close again, like he could just walk up right next to you any second, or maybe that’s just how he always feels now.

“Does that mean you haven’t seen the sky here?”  You ask after a moment.  This whole time, everything has been grey for him?

“I saw it,” Din murmurs, and even though it’s quiet and explosions are thundering loud enough to deafen more sensitive ears, his quiet voice somehow breaks through it all.  “When you left the Crest, I saw it behind you.”

For some reason, you suddenly feel like crying.  Whether it’s the way he phrases it or the sentiment in the words, you’re close to tears without even knowing why, looking up at the sky illuminating spectacularly.  He says it like he wasn’t the one who parked on this moon and told you to go on without him.  “Can you… turn it off for just a second?”

He takes a second, before clarifying for you.  “I turn it off and I lose your footprints.”

So that was the ultimatum.  He doesn’t want to turn it off until you’re back with him again.  Does he not understand?  Does he not know what you know?  Maybe you just happened to feel it first, this overwhelming physical sensation inside you whenever you think about him.  It’s like the exact opposite of a hole in your chest.  And it’s so odd, so counterintuitive.  Being comforted in his absence, feeling him with you when he isn’t.  Falling in love in the dark, knowing him without ever seeing him.

“You never needed them,” you say, reaching up to pull your mask down under your jaw and chin for a moment, wanting to freely breathe the freshwater and flowers while stars explode and fracture across the sky.  It’s a truth you’re acknowledging, something you’ll carry with you, something you fundamentally own at this point.  “You’d find me without the helmet.  And I’d find you.”

The fireworks continue to bleed into the water beneath them, multicolor splashes rippling into existence and disappearing just as quick.  You could’ve never imagined a more colorful, magnificent landscape—besides your waterfall on Naboo, of course.  That was a pure product of nature though, a place hidden away and untouched by people, completely sacred.  Light refracting against mist, natural glass that would shatter under your weight.  This is a celebration of life and family.  Loud in a different way, affecting you in a different way, but just as wonderful and touching.  A cultivated paradise, designed to be beautiful and safe only because they wanted it to be.

“Think so?”  He asks softly.  He sounds so deep and warm, but… a little distant.  You’re able to hear it in his words.  You don’t know why, though.  Doesn’t he believe you?  Perhaps… perhaps this isn’t The Way.  Perhaps this is part of a completely different oath, one where knowing and loving somebody isn’t the same thing as looking at their face, not at all.  Where you can have them exist entirely separate from each other, because this is love.  This is real, enduring, bone-deep love, and you haven’t ever seen his face, so how would he explain that?  How would the Mandalorians reconcile that?  You bear the mark of the mudhorn, you’ve moved through time and space with him, you’re a mother to his son, and you’ve never seen his face.  It defies both the Mandalorian oath and traditional understandings of love, or it meets them right in the middle, depending on how you look at it.

“I know so.”  For the first time, you think you might sound more confident and certain than he does.  Maybe he doesn’t fully get it yet, but then you suppose he’ll just have to trust you.  “Will you look at the sky?”

“I see it,” Din tells you, but you know he doesn’t.  Not the way you want him to.  And stars, you just want so many things for him, don’t you?  The sky, fresh air, water, light, food, rest.  You want him to see the galaxy the way you do—have a new appreciation for the gifts that are given just because you’re alive to experience them.  All the physics and mathematics aligned perfectly for it to happen—all the chemistry, the systems, the dynamics that dictate the universe, they all got together and crafted a world where you, him, and the kid all exist together at the same time.  You want him to know the significance of that.

“With color?”  You ask, knowing his answer before he seems to.

“I…”  Din wants to argue, or at least say it again.  He can’t or he’ll lose you, he already told you he doesn’t want to turn the setting off.  It’s such an unnecessary conflict, but you want to respect it so much that you’re willing to give up things of your own to make it happen.

“How do I fix it then?”  You whisper, so desperately wanting this one thing for him, this one grandeur to behold.  How do you fix this problem?  How do you convince him to look with you?  You’d offer to just go and find him instead of continuing to run away for the next few hours, but you know the show will be over soon and you don’t have much time left.  “Do you want me to come look for you?  It’ll be too late by then, you’re too far away.  Look at the sky.”

It’s silent for a moment—truly silent, even though colorful bombs are going off above the bay.  You don’t know why you’ve attached yourself to this so strongly, but it’s almost devastating when you don’t get a response.  You look away from the spectacle for the first time in an eternity, gazing unseeingly into the crowd of onlookers with a sudden sadness taking hold of you.  He won’t look, he’s too stubborn, he holds onto things too tightly.

But then, a flurry of flares start launching in rapid succession from the distant boats, screaming and crying on their way up and then igniting into showers of light, and the abrupt increase in activity manages to catch your attention once again.  This must be the end, they saved the best for last.  Every corner of the horizon flashes and sparks, and you’re mesmerized at how bright it is, how many colors they’ve managed to fit into one single frame.

“It’s beautiful,” comes his voice, and the smile that you break into feels just right for the brilliance of the view above you.  Maker, it is, isn’t it?  Now you can hear it—he sounds like he’s looking at it too, with color, in all its breathtaking glory, and you feel like you’re flying.  Like he picked you up and let you watch up close, like you can feel his armor under your fingers right now as he carries you through the sky.

It swells up inside you, a rising wave similar to the ones you can see in the distance, and you know you probably shouldn’t say it because it’s not in your best interest to say it right now, but you have to say it anyways.  It’s an unknowable compulsion, a need to connect and communicate directly with him but for your sake, not presently, not at this exact moment in time.

Luckily, you mute your comm just in time and simply give the words to him from very far away.

“Hurry up,” you say, sending the sentiment into the sky with all your love, and the conflicting hope that he won’t take the advice until a bit later on.  “Come and find me.”

***

Day 5–7:37pm:

After the fireworks are over, people start to drift off in separate directions, clearing the traffic and congestion from the streets around you.  Someone puts their hand on your shoulder and you blink a few times, spinning around and almost stepping on a bunch of tiny little feet by accident.

Stars, that’s a lot of children.  They’re all crowded around Naydee, who pats a few heads and almost buckles under the younglings clinging to her leg.

“Figured you would be long gone by now,” she grins at you from behind her mask, and you’re reminded to pull yours up over your face just from looking at her.  “It’s late—we’re going back to the Keja.”

“Oh, shit,” you breathe in surprise, but the noise of the gradually dispersing crowd manages to cover it up.  At least from younger, more easily distracted ears, but you think Naydee hears you.  Her dark eyes roll good-naturedly, looking happy but exhausted from the long day.  You’re going to have to say goodbye now.

“What happened to your family?”  She asks after a moment, and you think she’s being careful with the way she says it, likely because family is a difficult topic to navigate in general around some of the children hanging on her and begging for her attention.  “Have you been in touch with them?  If not, I’m sure you can come back with us.  It’ll be late by the time we get there, but at least you’ll be safe.”

You open your mouth to automatically decline her offer, knowing Din is still in the crowded city looking for you and wanting to stay where there’s lots of people.

But then… well, he would expect you to do that, wouldn’t he?

There’s more people here.  More danger, but better places to hide.  It’s the obvious choice, it’s the one that makes the most logical sense.  But you’d also be completely alone and you’re assuming the only reason he hasn’t snatched you up yet—which you know he could’ve done multiple times by now, is likely because you’re with a group of innocent foundlings, moody teenagers, and very stern older women.  He probably doesn’t realize you’ve told them about him and the kid, though you were slightly vague on the details.

It’s also a little over three hours to get back, but you’re banking on it being closer to four with how whiney and tired some of the small voices sound, others sounding like they’re an enormous sugar rush contained into a tiny little capsule.  Would he have the gall to try and get you right from under their noses?  Will he even know you left the city, or will he assume you made the smartest decision possible and simply account for it ahead of time?  No, you're overthinking it, just make a decision and stick with it.

“There’s also free food,” Naydee shrugs while you’re still considering, but… well, that settles that.  Almost three days of friendship and she already knows exactly how to win you over in the end.  Sustenance for your empty tummy, an escort the entire way there, and heavily guarded walls beyond.  Din will have to get creative in response—you flaunted your imagination for days, coming up with dozens of evasion tactics to outlast him, but this one just seems… incredibly practical.  Exploiting a weakness of his—isolating it, having it be reinforced by precedent, and then taking advantage of it.  You bet he’ll catch on, but still, it’ll make it more difficult for him, and you’re grasping at straws to hang on just a little longer.

“I…”  Quick, come up with something.  You clear your throat.  “The city is too crowded, I haven’t been able to find them.  I could just… tell them where I’m headed and see if they can find me along the way?”

Naydee smiles and nods.  “Sounds perfect.”

Yet, the entire walk back… you keep thinking you’re going to feel Din trailing behind you, waiting to feel the nerves twist in your tummy and your palms to sweat, but you don’t.  You keep glancing over your shoulder and then down at your wrist, needing to talk yourself out of addressing him through the comm to let him know exactly what the plan is.  You like maintaining a sense of secrecy from the new characters you’ve met on your adventures—Naydee, Karga, Peli—almost everyone you’ve been introduced to, you found a way to find a subtle enjoyment in hiding certain things from them.  But with Din, you don’t have any walls.  They crumbled nearly a full year ago when he silently pushed a cauterizer in your hand and took his armor off for you, and you’ve felt the inexplicable need to bare yourself to him in return ever since.  It would be to your extreme detriment to do it now, but you still have to fight the urge.

Even if you don’t feel him following, you still find yourself acting like he is.  Constantly turning back to double check the road behind you, drifting off in the middle of shallow, distant conversations with tiny foundlings who can’t tell the difference, keeping towards the middle of the pack this time to avoid being picked off towards the back.  The belltower at the orphanage is loud and will ring for quite a distance, so your timing has to be utterly pristine for this to all work out.  You eye your comm the entire way there, trying to stall just the right amount to avoid any realizations or fall into any traps he may be setting for you.

You eventually leave the city walls far behind you, and now you have no clue where he is.  You lost him, and maybe that’s why you feel your heart beat insanely fast the whole time.  He could be anywhere now.  Behind you, adjacent, parallel—you can’t decide where to look, but it keeps you wide awake and focused while the group tiredly travels back to the temple.

***

Day 5–11:32pm:

You can see it in the distance, the brick buildings slowly coming into view.  One might think your stress would have worked itself out by now, been brought back to a manageable level after four hours of walking, but you’ve been on red alert for the past hour or so.  Any movement or rustle that doesn’t come from the sleepy children or exhausted caretakers, you’re on top of it, snapping your attention to the offending tree or animal and not being able to relax even after affirming it’s just nature, it’s not shiny metal bounding after you in the darkness, ready to take you down.

The infants are all likely snoozing away in the nursery, and the Sister who volunteered to stay behind and look after them comes to greet the group at the gate as you approach.  Like always, two Brothers open the iron bars to allow you inside, and you feel the anxiety dig its claws into your tummy.  If Din is going to get you, this is the very last moment to do it.  These walls are guarded and you’re nervous for him, you’re nervous for yourself—you’re just fucking nervous.  Jumpy and worried, not being able to pinpoint him anymore and feeling all the more anxious because of it.

It doesn’t feel right.  Nothing feels right about this, but you can’t figure out specifically what’s wrong.  This was the exact plan, this was a way for you to just survive these last few hours and yet, it doesn’t feel right that you actually succeeded in doing so.  It doesn’t make sense that he’d allow you to return all the way here, especially when he was close enough to touch you earlier.  Din has had so much time to snatch you up, so many opportunities to lure you away, confront you—anything to catch you, and he hasn’t done it yet.  Why?  Either you truly did escape and he has no idea where you are, which doesn’t feel right, or he’s choosing not to get you for whatever reason, which also doesn’t feel right.  What’s he waiting for?  You can’t have won.  It was all too fucking easy, you’re expecting to see him around every single corner because he should be there, he shouldn’t have allowed this to happen.

When someone gently touches your elbow, you’re so on edge that you nearly whip around in surprise.

“Sorry!”  Naydee immediately apologizes, taking her hand back to lift her hood and remove the mask covering her face.  “Didn’t mean to scare you!  I was just going to say that the commissary is still open,” she offers, and you watch the small group of hungry teenagers break off from the group to make their way there.  “It’s going to take awhile to get the children ready for bed, so we’ll be in the dormitories if you need to sleep.  Otherwise, I’m not sure I’ll see you again.”

You stare at her and blink a few times, trying to readjust your focus.  She’s your new friend, she just said this was likely the last time you’ll see each other, but you can’t stop thinking about Din.  Imagine he’s hours away in the city right now, still looking for you.  You’re trying to evaluate your priorities here, but you truthfully never expected to get this far.  Inside the gates, surrounded by brick buildings and silent guards.  You know your way around here, you know hiding spots, you know how to outlast—it’s incredibly advantageous for you to be inside these walls.  What is he doing?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you give Naydee a quick hug and she happily accepts it.  “I’m sure we’ll meet again at some point.”

She smiles and nods, pulling back and letting a couple grumpy foundlings catch her robes and yank on them impatiently.  The loud group eventually disappears into the dorms, and the door shutting behind them cuts off the tired crying and chatty voices determined to stay awake, leaving you in silence that feels slightly unfamiliar after going without it for so long.

Fuck, you just need to breathe.  As soon as the dead quiet grips the air around you, you realize you need to relax.  You’re way too fucking wound up; you want to bolt at the smallest thing and the sudden silence of being alone multiplies it to the point where you have to remind yourself of its importance.  Breathe.  Focus.  There’s about fifteen minutes before the bells ring, fifteen more minutes and the chase will be all over.

Can you eat?  You thought you’d want to, but you think you’re too fucking antsy.  You can’t stay here alone, that’s for sure, but you also don’t want to be around all the children right now.  The commissary will have a handful of people wandering around, teens snacking and maybe a Brother or two standing guard.  It’s the best place to wait the clock out, so you make your way there.  The gentle breeze billows around your loose robes, your pantlegs swishing as you walk.

A few minutes later, you’ve got a plate of food in front of you but your mask is still up, and you’re just sitting there.  Towards the back of the large room, sitting by yourself at one of the tables and staring down at your communicator.  Five minutes.  You have five fucking minutes left before he finds you.  Can you feel him?  Is he closing in?

You sit up a bit straighter, taking a deep breath.  Focus on that feeling from earlier.  The presence in your chest, the weight that didn’t used to be there months ago—focus on that feeling and branch it outwards.  Can you feel him?

Something catches your eye.

Or no… it doesn’t, does it?  Nothing is out of place here, nothing is visibly wrong or amiss.  The only thing that’s changed from all the times before is how dark it is through the windows, and how there are only a few kids in here grabbing a midnight snack instead of being packed like usual.  Nothing else.

But there’s… there’s an acolyte in the far corner, standing guard with his back to the wall.  It’s not his presence that gives you pause—you expected him to be here, there’s always been at least one present whenever you’ve sat down to eat.  He doesn’t look any different from the rest of the Brothers you’ve passed by this evening or the days before—tall, silent, dark brown robes, hooded and mysterious—so why do you suddenly feel yourself break out into a cold sweat as soon as your eyes land on him?

Bubbling laughter and chatter echoes through the large room from one of the tables near the entrance—seven teenagers stuffing their faces with food and sharing animated conversation with each other now that it’s late and they’re alone—but your stomach twists and your fingers start to tremble as you slowly rise from your seat in the back.  You want to keep your head down and be casual but it’s impossible, you desperately need to keep looking at that silent guard in particular and your heart kicks up in your chest—

—and then it wrenches sideways when you’re carefully backing away from the table and the offending acolyte takes a single step forwards.

Run.  Everything in you screams for you to run, and it’s rarely done that before, but you can’t.  Not yet, you don’t want to draw attention, and the logical part of your mind rages against your gut instinct to haul ass.  He’s here—of course he is, the thought screams through your veins as you try to weave quickly in between tables, feeling light on your toes and readying yourself to run as soon as you can.  The dark figure seems to find a careful pace behind you, staying just far enough behind and walking in perfect silence, and you have so many fucking questions but you can’t even think a single thing beyond run away, run away.  Where’s the kid?  How did he get those robes?  Did he actually take his helmet off just to get to you in a room where anyone could confront him?

Your feet propel you forward as soon as you make it out of the door, you break out into a sprint—just flat out bolting because you know how fucking fast he is and you need as big a headstart as you can get.

You race down the stairs and through the courtyard, the beautiful surroundings contrasting drastically with the way you’re running for your fucking life through them.  It’s not beautiful to you right now; you feel clumsy and physically unable to move fast enough no matter how quick you go, your eyes are wide and every nerve is on fire and you can’t even tell if he’s behind you anymore with how silently he moves, but you just trust that he is and keep barreling forward.  Your breath puffs against the clinging fabric of your mask as you keep sprinting, willing your legs to pump faster.  Get to the belltower at least, get to where you have the smallest chance of being caught by the people who guard this place.

As soon as you allow yourself to even conceive the possibility, two Brothers in dark hooded robes suddenly turn the corner a little ways in front of you and your reaction time is perfect—you jerk to a halt and take a single step forward as soon as they spot you.  Since your momentum already committed you to it, you just have to walk, keep your head down, move directly past them and hope Din disappeared from behind you in time.

Step, step, step—keep going, control your breathing, you’re okay, you’re allowed to be up late tonight and they shouldn’t stop you.  Walk right by…  Stars, you feel their silent stares as you casually pass, and it just feels so cold and analytical compared to the kind of danger Din is gives off when dressed in the exact same clothing.  He’s hard and tangible and an unrelenting force, where they just feel like ghosts that haunt this place.  The threat they present is impersonal and detached, but the terror currently chasing after you is so real that he can read your mind.

You wipe the sweat from your brow as soon as you turn the corner, and your feet are already starting to speed up on their own knowing you’re out of their sight.  Run, get to the belltower before Din does, you can see it standing tall about a hundred feet away.  The stairs leading to the door come closer and closer, but you hear something behind you and it propels you faster.  It’s like you can feel him right at your heels even though you haven’t seen him, snapping at your ankles even though your footsteps are the only ones you can hear anymore.

You scramble up the stairs and close the door behind you, spinning around and facing it even as you slowly retreat backwards into the moonlit tower, trying to stay quiet.  Breathing through your nose, eyes shifting around the enclosed space, continuing to back up and away from the door.  Where is he?  There are so many windows that allow you to look outside, but why can’t you spot his movement through them?  Wasn’t he right behind you?

Behind you.

There’s no reason or logic at all to it; you just react.  Spinning around and throwing a mean punch.

Din jerks back just in time to miss it, twisting and dodging at the very last second to avoid your next few hits—but… things seem to slow down, even if they’re happening so fast.  The moonlight cascades through the dozens of windows lining the circular walls and it shines just enough to reveal small glimpses of him.  With every aggressive strike from you, you see something else—you see a flash of his chin when you try to uppercut, you aim for his chest and you see a bit of his jaw.  When you go for his jaw, he steps sideways and catches your wrist, and you see the bend of his nose catch the light this time.

But then it’s like he finally figures out that you’re actually fighting him, and now he’s coming for you.  Trained and ruthless, not weighed down by any armor and lightning quick, launching perfectly aimed attacks that you’re only able to avoid from reaction and muscle memory alone.  You block or move whenever he strikes, you attack whenever you see an opening, you sidestep at the same time he does—

Until you land a spin kick directly to the center of his chest and snap your leg to shove him back, your heel smashing into that soft spot right above his stomach with dead precision and brute force.  He exhales sharply and takes a few more steps back to steady himself while you pause to catch your breath.

Din abruptly comes back and you fall into it with him again, keeping a sharp rhythm with each other that’s faster, harder, and way more real than any sparring match you’ve ever shared.  The hours and days in hyperspace you spent practicing with him are but a fraction of what he’s throwing at you right now, the combinations so rapid and blurred that you just have to trust your knowledge of him and his movement through the dark.

But then, your downfall.  Bells begin ringing an earsplittingly familiar melody above you, and it shatters your concentration—you falter just as he grabs you and sweeps your feet out, and though you know how to get out of that, you’re not quick enough on the jump nor counterswing to prevent it.  He takes you to the ground, hard, and then your wrists are being pinned together above your head and your mask is being tugged down.

Din’s mouth on yours makes you want to cry.

The whole thing is like coming home.  You spent a week surrounded by strangers and having them call you by a name not given to you, fending for yourself, and now here he is.  Someone who knows who you really are, someone that wants to care for you.  Tears come to your eyes even as they're pressed tightly shut, and Din kisses you like he’s never known anything else.  His mouth fits to yours as if the Maker made your lips before ever considering the rest of you, his bare hand clutching your jaw and forcing you to open for him, letting him lick deep inside after going so many days without it.  It might feel dominant and overwhelming if it happened to any other person, but through it, you can also taste his desperation and weakness, how soft he is even when he’s squeezing your jaw and squishing your wrists together too tightly.

Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.

He pulls back and your heart throbs at how moonlight continues to bathe just the smallest glimpses of him under the hood—never the full thing, never the whole face, but enough.  The quiet light that brushes the arch of his nose, how it bathes the hard line of his jaw so that you can barely see his scruff when he turns his head the right way.  His eyes are hidden in near darkness but there’s the faintest glimmer where they should be, and it’s the closest you’ve ever been to looking at him without the helmet.  You can see him, you can see shadows of his chin, his neck—dear stars, his fucking neck.  You’re pinned and paralyzed under him and the ringing bells, yet you feel like you just might float if he wasn’t holding you so tight to the floor.

“Where’s the baby?”  You finally lift your chin and ask, needing to raise your voice over the melody clanging loud throughout the tower.

“Making friends,” Din pants back down at you, and… stars, then you just start giggling.  Adrenaline turning into pure joy, imagining the kid wreaking havoc with all the other babies in the nursery right now.  It feels more light and airy than anything your body should know.

“What are you so happy about?” He asks, swallowing and then continuing on with the same quick gasps.  “You lost, I caught you in time.”

“Did you?”  You drop your head to the brick floor and ask, biting your lip as he stares back down at you.  Suddenly—

—Bong—

Din holds utterly still over you while you take a quick breath and wait for the next eleven bells… 

…but then break into a slow grin up at him when nothing but utter silence follows.

There’s a moment.  Just a single moment where the cogs turn rapidly under that shadowy hood, one where the faint reflection of light in his eyes flickers down to the communicator on your wrist that says midnight and back to you, one that solidifies the longer it takes for another bell to ring.  It’s not going to.

One o’clock.

You think he puts it together.  The one moment he was never able to figure you out—when you tried reprogramming the comms just a few days ago.  The one trick up your sleeve that you resigned to throw away and almost forget about because the circumstances for pulling it off were never realistic.  Fuck with the electronics and set the clock back just one hour—all you’d need to do is reset his communicator, the timecode is synced together.  He told you before that it’s connected to his helmet, but all the buttons still work.  Rapid, panicky thinking and a wild surge of bravery in the face of certain downfall is the only reason you were able to pull it off, and you’re perfectly willing to admit you just got lucky… especially when he’s still holding dead still over you.

But then Din moves so suddenly.  You can’t account for it because there’s no build-up whatsoever—it’s so fast, you yelp while he grabs your knees and throws them both to one side.  You flop over sideways and large hands reach up under the draping length of your tunic to yank your pants down over the curve of your ass, before he’s fitting his palm up between your legs and pushing two thick fingers inside you.

Your head thunks back against brick with how unexpected and merciless it is, but his other hand is grabbing your jaw and twisting, forcing you to look up, stare right into the dark shadow under the loose cowl.  The whole thing is too overwhelming—you’re trying to keep quiet but your breathing feels like thunder crashing inside this tall, echoing chamber.  He’s touched you so many times, he knows exactly how to do it by now, but it feels like so much more than that.  Probably because you can see the way Din’s mouth silently falls open as he feels you, stretching his fingers up and hooking them tight inside.  You can tell when he closes his eyes, the smallest glint slowly disappearing into nothingness while the hand around your jaw blindly moves up.  It catches your chin and lips, and then two fingers push over the bottom edge of your teeth to slip into your mouth.

Your entire leg twitches and jerks while you lay sideways on the ground and open up for him, your neck twisted at a sharp angle to keep your eyes on him and his fingers in your mouth, giving you something to bite to stop making noise.  Din makes room for himself inside you two different ways, and you just choke on his fingers and try to stay quiet, praying he’ll go deeper.

But then you’re not expecting his whole fucking arm to start moving the way it does—oh fuck, what is that?  First you just feel jostled and displaced, but then suddenly a wicked, deep, burning pleasure starts to roar through you, radiating outwards from the rapid motion of just two fingers inside you.  It’s not in and out, it’s up and down so hard and quick against your g-spot that your eyes cross and your hands go numb.

You think you grab at him, clutch onto his arm or chest and open your mouth to moan at the new and overwhelming sensation, but his hand pushes up against your chin and closes it for you, the bend of his fingers caught hard between your teeth but you don’t think he cares.

“Quiet,” Din hisses the word down at you while his arm continues to work, your toes starting to curl as the feeling overwhelms you.  Fuck, what is happening, what is happening?  It’s like he’s just shoving unfamiliar sensation at you so forcefully that you can’t even think straight anymore, not even ten seconds in.  You can only feel the pleasure, fire blurring hot and shapeless through your entire body as your eyes clamp shut, his fingers isolating that perfect spot and stimulating it directly, relentlessly.

Something dull and white hot presses up tight against all the muscles you have down there and you’re almost afraid of how strong it is.  You gasp and choke and he has to take his fingers out of your mouth and just clamp down around your entire jaw, sealing the whole thing shut with his large hand.  And then Din’s fingers leave your pussy too—and stars, you should be embarrassed by how desperately it clamps around nothing for as long as it does.  He’s not even inside you anymore but your body is on such a delay from the hot, twisting pleasure, and he doesn’t put them back in until your muscles are finished spasming.

Everything comes back full force as soon as he starts moving again.  Noise starts to come from your throat, humming in your vocal cords to deal with the arcing, swirling build, and so Din just moves his hand there instead.  He finds where it’s vibrating from your neck and he pushes up against it, trapping the sound right at the source.  He’s fucking perfect at it for some reason… how many times must he have done this to know how to cut noise out without stopping airflow?  You clutch at his wrist and silently mouth his name, feeling his arm work between your legs—faster, faster, harder, pushing you higher, higher—

Din pulls his fingers out again and this time, one of your thighs suddenly feels warm and wet while you spasm and you hear him growl out a ragged, “Fuck yes.”  Everything is sparks zapping through you long after his touch is gone, you cry out but it’s all trapped under Din’s expert grip.  His fingers soon push back inside you and you dig your nails into his forearm, your sounds muffled and quiet enough to hear his raspy groan.  

“Let me see it again,” Din breathes, his arm starting to work up and down once more, and you don’t even know what he’s talking about anymore.  What does he want to see?  You losing your mind again?  Being reduced to an utter mess in front of his shadowy but unobstructed gaze just because you managed to pull one over on him?

Fucking… apparently.  It’s what happens, after all.  You’ve never seen him like this before; whenever he’s worked up and taking it out on you, there was always something in it for him, too.  He’d hammer into you and rock your world until his eventually shattered, and then you’d both lay exhausted afterwards, equally affected and satisfied.  This isn’t like that—this is just cruel, targeted retribution on his behalf, coaxing the molten pleasure out of you with his fingers and keeping his other hand locked around your throat.  You blink helplessly up at him, your vision starting to blur by the time he leans down to whisper to you.

“I missed you, sweet girl.  Did you miss me?”  It’s so soft and quiet compared to the strength and relentlessness of his movements.  You can’t speak even if you wanted to, but when he finally pulls away to yank his hand out and you feel all your muscles automatically flex outwards and push against the sudden emptiness inside you, his voice groans long and satisfied while your thighs get wet again  “Yeah you did,” he breathes, pushing your shaky legs to the brick with his hand and watching you struggle through the aftershocks.

Did you just cum?  You don’t even know, that’s how fucked up you are right now.  The whole thing felt like an orgasm from the very beginning, just a boiling hot tornado ripping through every single cell in your body, never really having a peak.  If you didn’t cum, then why do you feel so weak?  You feel heavy, your limbs don’t work properly, and you barely even register Din pulling at the fabric of his own robes until he fits himself up against your entrance.

When you do realize it, though… your body burns with it, wrecked already but wanting him to take what he wants from you.

“Oh, plea—” you gasp but you don’t even have enough time to get the full sentence out.  He’s already pushing his hips forward, pressing you tight into the ground and opening you up after what feels like a fucking eternity without him.  It’s the hottest, slickest welcome you could give him, you hear it in the whispered curse his lips brush up under your ear, the wet noises your body makes that get louder the longer you hold the moan in your throat and bury your head into his shoulder.  He throbs thick and perfect inside your tight, spasming cunt, stretching you and smacking the rough ground near your head with how fucking good it is to be back, finally, finally—

Your hands grab uselessly at his chest while you try to acclimate, try to breathe while you’re blind with sensation.  It’s so fitting for him, isn’t it?  That your reunion should be just as physically debilitating as it is mentally.  Din’s voice scrapes on a groan like he’s dragging it across the brick ground as quiet as he can, catching when you clamp down on him and shuddering when you clamp down harder.  That’s just it—you don’t ever loosen, you just keep tightening and tightening around him, threatening to break and cum again.

This feels different from before, though.  It’s deep, purposefully so.  His hand reaches up to push the fabric of your hood back, lifting himself up over your body and wanting to start as deep as he can.  You feel him in a place you’d never be able to reach and that’s just the beginning—that’s before he starts thrusting into you, hitting a dull sensation at the apex of each movement so hard that it becomes sharp.  His hips don’t make practically any sound smacking into you because they don’t really smack, they just rock downwards and fuck you into the floor without needing to pull out really at all.  You know he’s just trying to keep it as quiet as possible, but what he lacks in speed and agility he makes up in power.

You don’t even realize you’re making too much noise until a palm wraps tight around your mouth and the room gets a little emptier.  Din keeps you all to himself on the floor, silencing as much as he’s working you up, smothering as much as he’s freeing you.  There’s no easing up, no dragging it out, no gradual build or climb—it’s just there all of a sudden, pleasure and pain pummeling you all at once, engulfing you in flames.

You reach up to grab at the loose fabric of the hood over his face, catching a fistful of it before his hand suddenly snatches your shaky wrist and pins it back to the ground.

Maker, you forgot—oh, you completely forgot about how many people could find you right now if they ever decided to look in the right place.  You’re not in hyperspace; your body is rocking against rough brick, you’re probably going to have a lump on the back of your head from how terrible you are at trying to map out heaven while holding still.  He’s pinned down what he can with one hand; your fingers are the only things that can move besides how tight you can curl your toes, but you feel your moans turn into words against his palm.  They garble indistinctly and you’re not really even sure what you’re saying, but Din decides it’s worth hearing.

“Shh,” he whispers, slowly lifting his hand from your mouth.  “Shh, tell me—”

“W-wanna look,” you hear yourself whimper, trying your best to keep quiet but wanting to scream it while he fucks you hard and slow on the ground, “—I wanna see, I wanna look at you—”

“Fuck,” Din gasps, and though his grip tightens on your wrist and you know he can’t do it right this second, the words seem like they shatter something inside him, “Keep—oh fuck, please, k-keep saying…”

“I want to marry you,” you nearly whine for him, feeling his hips kick up rapidly and start hammering in and out, in and out, in and—“I want to see your face, I wanna be yours, I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I-I—”

You think he drops his head into your neck to muffle his own sounds.  Though they start out rough and quiet and indiscernible, but they gradually become louder as he repeats himself over and over again, growling and fucking you rough.  You only catch it on the peak, when he pulls his mouth away from your skin and gasps them raggedly one last time.

“—ve you—I l-love y—”

He kisses you to stop himself.  But it’s not really a kiss, it’s more desperate than that.  Though it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful in a different light.  It’s not rejoicing at having you back with him once again; it’s a last prayer begging you to stay by his side forever.  He loves you.  He gives it everything—it feels even more concrete and simple than taking the hood off him and revealing his face would.  You told you that you'd know him without ever seeing him, and you did.  You picked him out and found him when absolutely nothing was giving him away, and this feels like a manifestation of that.  Even if you’re not in a place where he can show you his face, his beautiful brown eyes, something still feels like it changes.  He loves you.  You gasp into his mouth and his tongue sinks deep into yours, tenacious and brave and unyielding.  

When you finally cum, you almost bite him on accident.  

Everything surges hot and molten while he pulls back and keeps fucking you through it, and you can’t tell where you’re touching him anymore, just that his skin is blazing hot under your hand and he feels like everything the armor isn’t.  He loves you.  You’re looking into his eyes right now.  You can’t see any of the details, not really, but the moonlight flickers like silent stars moving through dark depths, staring right back at you and giving you an anchor for the euphoria rocketing through you.  He loves you.  Your nails dig in sharp and slowly drag downwards, scratching hard red lines into whatever thick muscle that is—

The back of his neck, making his hips stutter and when he cums for you, he does bite.

You lift your head just in time to feel his teeth catch your chin instead of your mouth, and his entire body shakes while you keep dragging your nails down the side of his neck and his throat.  Din fucking lives for it, he releases you and arches into the pain and owns your marks like he wishes you made them deeper, stretching his neck and lifting his chin into the moonlight and—

Maker.  You can see it, with direct light, you can see more of it than ever before.  You can see his soft lips and white teeth gritting the sound of your name as quietly as he can, the dark facial hair dusting across the lower half of his face.  A fucking gorgeous jawline and throat extended long over you, flexing hard with his cock pulsing inside you.  You can just barely see the bottom of his nose from under the brown hood, the dark curls brushing up under his ears.

Stars, you still never see his eyes, the fabric of his hood acts like a blindfold draped over them, but you think you cum again.  Even if it’s on accident, it’s mean—Din tries to keep from squishing you and his hand pushes down hard against your lower tummy while he shoves his hips deep one last time, and you cum while staring at half of his face in the moonlight.  Completely lovestruck.

How can he be this beautiful when you’ve only seen fractions of him?  You have everything but the eyes now, everything but the most mysterious thing about him, the reflection into his deepest self, but you feel like you’re hypnotized by every single feature you do see.  His tongue coming out to wet his lips, the vein pulling under his sharp jaw—he’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous, and your body agrees.  It shakes and shudders under him and eventually, Din finishes and you keep looking as his chin slowly lowers, face disappearing into the shadow once more.

Stars.  He’s so handsome and no one has ever told him, fucking dreamy and the biggest grump you’ve ever met.  Without being able to see him, you already want to reach your hands out and touch him, drag your nails through his scruff and force him to extend outwards into the moonlight again for you.  Whenever he does end up showing you his face, you know right fucking now that you’ll never be able to look away.  For the rest of your life, you’ll be staring at him, apologizing blankly for your rudeness but not feeling sorry at all.

Din leans down and gives you a slow, gentle kiss, finally relaxing into a slouch and breathing hard with the effort it took to shatter you with pleasure.

“The kid is with the other foundlings,” he whispers against your lips.  “You… you’ll have to go get him, I need to grab my armor.”

You squeeze around his cock, pulling at the fabric of his robes and ignoring him for just a second.  He fucked you in robes belonging to one of the guards and nobody has mentioned it, you need to say something.  “Where did you get this?”

“I found it,” he tells you after a moment, kissing up under your jaw.  Oh fucking Maker, he feels so good and perfect inside you, shoulders so broad and crowding you on the floor, and his lips are plush and hot, brushing and fitting your skin like it’s just an extension of his own.  “Some guy was wearing it.”

It takes you a second.

“Mando,” you suddenly gasp in quiet horror, pushing at his chest and trying your best to detach his mouth from your throat.  It’s so much more difficult than it needs to be, but you eventually succeed.  “What did you do to him?  Where is he?”

He lifts his neck up just the tiniest bit, turning his face towards yours under the hood and holding still for way too fucking long.  He’s too close to see the expression he’s making, but you know the tone of his silence.  He’s in trouble and he knows it before you do.

“Ma—”

“They’re in a closet,” he admits at the very same time, completely monotone.

You don’t know which word to emphasize.  A fucking closet?  They’re?  Plural?  Instead of stressing any particular word, you decide not to do it at all and it ends up just coming out in the same exact blank tone as him.  “They're in a closet.”

“Inside the Temple,” Din continues on when you lay still as a statue underneath him.  His head slowly dips down once more, pushing his hips against you just the slightest bit to make you remember the cock still inside you instead.  Your eyelashes flutter with it—fuck, focus—“I didn’t know there’d be more than two.”  He kisses your neck so gently.  “It was an accident.”

You don’t say anything at all, your mouth pinching down at the corners because it should but your heartbeat galloping with how… fucking sexy he is.  You shouldn’t encourage this, this horrible behavior just to get close enough to catch you, but your curiosity overtakes you and you ask a question you’ve asked yourself before.  “Did they put up a fight?”

“Mm,” he whispers noncommittally, rocking his hips down once more.  “You did.”  Your nails dig into his chest, making him falter just slightly before slowly kissing your neck again.  “Did so good.  Fought hard, outsmarted me.  Pretty fucking girl.”

And then your eyes pop open as you feel it.  His cock suddenly beginning to harden once again inside you, twitching and gradually gaining a thicker shape, and for a moment, you actually fucking consider it.  He’s the only one in this galaxy that could not only ruin you on these sacred grounds, but then coax you into doing it more than once—stars, are you actually considering it?

“We can’t,” you automatically tell him, but it’s fucking pitiful.  Zero effort, absolutely no umph behind it, leaving it entirely up to him and how much he wants it.  Your logic reminds you that the kid is probably wreaking havoc in the nursery and there are tied up guards in the fucking temple that could be discovered any second.  You shouldn’t have even let him fuck you here in the first place, but…  “Mando, we can’t—”

His mouth opens against the crook of your neck and his tongue brushes velvet hot on your skin, tasting the glistening sweat there and not moving his broad figure a single inch over you besides getting closer, deeper.  Your nails dig into his collarbone, aiming for reason one last time.  It’s apparent that you’d be better off rephrasing, knowing the challenging streak in him and how much telling him what to do doesn't help.

“It’s not a good idea,” you attempt instead, breathless and trying not to move under his mouth and lazy hips.  “Not smart.  Bad idea to fuck again.”

Din’s body stops moving, even though he keeps getting harder.  His jaw opens and then his teeth scrape softly against your flesh, making you tilt your neck back and gasp.

“Later,” he lifts his head to state aloud, committing it to truth now that it’s been spoken and heard by another person.  “Later, I’ll fuck you on the ship, in our bed, when I can get you naked and have your taste in my mouth.”

Tingles rock through your body and you squeeze around his cock just as he pulls it out and tucks it back into his pants.  Your lungs quiver when you inhale—it’s shaky, but it reminds you of how long it’s been since you’ve been able to breathe correctly.

“Later,” you finally agree, combing your fingers through your hair and glad you have this hood to cover your freshly fucked dishevelment.  He came inside you and you don’t want to be leaking and getting your nice pretty robes all wet and stained, but then of course, without any prompting, Din quickly scoots back on his knees and drops his head down to take care of it for you.

***

Commotion.

After Din helped you clean up the way he sometimes likes and then disappeared to change back into his armor, you put your mask and hood back on and tried to look as casual as possible walking to the nursery.  Your knees wobbled slightly and you couldn’t stop smiling under the mask the entire walk there, but when you arrived, you just saw a dim room with sleeping infants—not what you were expecting.  Soon, however, you hear it: down the hall, distant and coming from the dormitories, you hear a loud commotion.

Fuck, you’re nearly wincing with every step you take now, and not because you’re sore.  Well, you… are, a little bit, but in a great way.  No, you’re just dreading the ridiculous shinanigans you already know are well underway, wondering if Din actually dropped the kid off in the dorms from the beginning or if he somehow migrated his way there to cause trouble.

When you walk inside, the first thing you see is a handful of crying and shouting toddlers, and while you can’t immediately spot your favorite floppy-eared monster, you don’t have to see him to know he’s probably standing tiny directly in the middle of this tense showdown.  Automatically, you’re taking a few steps forward to rescue him, but then you stop as soon as you see what the other babies are so mad about.  A large piece of chocolate leftover from the festival levitating just beyond their pitiful little reaches.

Hm.  Who could possibly be responsible for using demon powers to steal snacks and hold them hostage from a sizeable group of hostile children.  A mystery that may never be solved.

It makes you take a second.  The sheer… the… stars, you can’t even think straight—how fucking typical it is just hits you right in the chest, sends your heart into orbit.  Of course.  Of course this is what he’s gotten himself into without immediate supervision, of course this is the shipwreck you’d walk into, and you’re holding back a chuckle before making a single move to intervene.  In the midst of everything, you can hear adults approaching distantly from behind you.

“—don’t know where it came from, I was helping the younglings into bed when I heard the ruckus and I—”

The voices gradually grow louder, and you snatch the floating piece of candy out of thin air and whip around right before Sister Drya and Naydee walk in.  Their hushed, concerned conversation is cut to an abrupt end, and you clear your throat as they take you in, standing in front of chaos central continuing to go off behind you.  Do you… look as freshly disheveled as you are?  You’re not supposed to be here, you know, but hopefully the only strange thing is your presence itself and not anything concerning your appearance.

“Nerida,” the older lady suddenly announces, the name alone holding so much expectation, and the younglings missing their candy have now turned their ire towards you and the crinkly food wrapper hidden in your fist.  “What is the meaning of this?”

“Ah, yeah,” you stand up a little straighter, letting the chocolate casually fall out of your grip behind you, and a stampede of feet suddenly kick up to recover it.  It’s fine, nobody will know, it’s fine.  “It’s just…”  Your head tips behind you to the cause of the uproar, feeling a bit sheepish yet so incredibly fond.  “My… kid.”

Sister Drya stares at you for a few seconds, before tipping sideways and staring at the culprit.  “That is your child?”

You turn around just in time to see him, now abandoned by the angry mob of children, finally notice you.  All of a sudden, his pitch black eyes light up something bright and sunshiney, and you just start beaming in return.  What an adorable little creature, apple of your eye and pain of your ass.

“Yep,” you sigh, dropping into a squat and watching him barrel towards you, catching him right before he can trip over his brown potato sack and scooping him up into your arms.  “Hiya, bug,” you murmur with a grin, lifting back up and plopping him in his favorite spot in the universe—your left hip.  “You making friends?”

He giggles and it’s like sparkles and bubbles fill the room instead, wrapping tiny arms around the largest surface area he can get and clinging.  He laughs with a tiny open mouth, bless him, clearly not understanding the sarcasm, and suddenly your eyes feel just the slightest bit wet.  No, you’re not crying, don’t be fucking ridiculous, but you missed him like hell and he’s just the cutest fucking thing—why do you feel like crying?

“Sorry about that,” you apologize to the two women while slowly turning around, brushing your thumb over one of his cheeks and smiling as it squishes.  “He’s… uh.  Not great at sharing.  We’ll work on it.”

Takes after his dad, you purposefully leave out, just a different kind of sharing.  Din hasn’t shown you his full face yet and the kid performs magic tricks to taunt a roomful of children a fraction of his age for a single piece of chocolate, completely different kind of sharing.

Sister Drya says something in response, but when you look up to address her, all you see is Din standing silently behind her and Naydee, slowly dropping his hand from his helmet to his side.  They don’t seem to notice he’s there and you automatically try your best to pay attention to the Sister speaking to you, but your eyes get caught on the silver reflecting in the dim light beyond.  Fuck, he’s a presence.  An immediate distraction, taking all your focus with a single glimpse.  Seeing him fully armored again, staring at you from the silent shadows behind everything… you melt a little bit, knowing that you’ve seen more of what’s underneath than anyone.  Your shoulders settle and your entire body burns warm, wobbly like the air around a fire, and one of the kid’s hands leaves you to reach out towards his dad.

You watch the metallic helmet tilt sideways after a moment, saying everything without saying anything.  Come on, make up an excuse, let’s get out of here.

Looking at him in the quiet shadows, you’re reminded once again about how much you love him, how much softness you have inside you for a man so hard, so guarded.  And, for the first time, a voice in your head finishes a poem you didn’t realize you were writing, adding its own verse and bringing everything back around to the beginning.  He loves you, too.  How much he lets his guard down for you, the way he’s revealed more of his face to you than not.  You love each other.  You’re family.

So, all at once, you decide to mess with him, because that’s what family does best.

“Don’t be shy, come say hello,” you suddenly urge his silent figure, taking a step forward and speaking directly to him.  “Sister Drya, Naydee, I’d like to introduce you to my—”

It’s remarkable, you see it happen in front of you.  Like he has powers of his own, Din just literally fucking disappears.  Like magic, he’s nowhere to be found within a blink of an eye.  You know he’s capable of it; he’s done it plenty of times during the chase just to fuck with your head, but you’re staring straight at him when it happens this time and it might just be the funniest fucking thing you’ve ever seen him do.

Sister Drya and Naydee both turn around to an empty hallway bathed in shadows and you laugh.  A deep, shameless, loud belly laugh.  Where the fuck did he go so quick?  You were staring straight at him and you have no fucking clue.  He’s just out, and you’re left alone with his child and the unspoken understanding that he’ll just catch up with you later.

You’re giggling even as you shake your head and give the women your genuine thanks for keeping you and feeding you these past few days, grabbing your backpack with all your belongings and eventually using three green fingers to wave goodbye to them.  The very first thing Din says when he seamlessly joins you outside the Keja later is, “That wasn’t funny,” which just makes you laugh harder.

***

About a half hour has passed, and you’re walking along a dirt road, cradling a very happy baby in your arms and giving the grown man next to you an incredibly hard time.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, your back twinging slightly at the way you’re leaning about as sideways as you can get without falling over.  You think you’re basically just the hypotenuse between the ground and Din, who easily supports almost your entire weight with your backpack slung around his far shoulder and readily allows you to rest against him.

“They’re fine,” he grumbles in response, squeezing you tight to his side.  You just have to focus on moving your feet; it’s like he’s practically carrying your upper-half anyways.  “I gave them the night off.”

“You stuffed them in a closet,” you hiss, feeling his shoulder shrug under your cheek.

“I gave them the robe back,” he says, not really defending himself and more just throwing it out there to see if it helps any.  “I’m sure someone’s found them by now, they’re fine.”

Your eyes suddenly go wide, absolutely mortified at the thought.  “Wait.  What do you mean you gave the robe back?”

He shrugs once more, apparently not seeing the problem yet.  “I borrowed it, so I gave it back after I put my armor back on.”

If you could plant your feet on the dirt road and screech to a halt, you would, but all your weight is already resting on him and you’re working solely off his forward movement.  You just hope your tone holds the same amount of shocked disapproval your body language would’ve conveyed if you weren’t so completely attached to his hip like a parasite he adores.

“You fucked me wearing it, though.”  Your voice is strangely flat, so fucking confused and horrified by the mental image of him just tossing the soiled garments haphazardly somewhere in the temple behind you, or even worse, leaving them somewhere respectful, and Din soon stops in the middle of the deserted road.

“Oh,” is all he says, emotionless and blank through the modulator.  Did he not even consider this?

“I had to promise them I was a virgin just to sleep there, you know,” you admit, and you can tell that’s brand new information to him with how still he goes as you continue to lean against him.  You’re getting the feeling that he probably knows a lot more about your experiences on this moon than you think he does, but can tell that this is brand new information to him.  “And you locked three of their holy men in a closet, chased me across the temple grounds, fucked me in one of their robes, and then.  You gave it.  Back.”

Din stays perfectly silent for quite some time.  You can never go back to that place, you know this for a fact.  You’re banned forever now, it’s what you deserve.

Never one to be outdone but not actually having anything to say for himself, Din suddenly decides to just scoop you into his arms and boost up into the sky without a single word like an actual fucking maniac.

You squeal and damn near drop the baby because of it, but he cinches you tight to his chest and refuses to loosen with your struggle.  Eventually, after you realize he’s completely locked you in and you won’t fall to your death with this poor innocent child in your arms, you glance over the shiny pauldron on his shoulder and watch the kid’s crib disappear by the abandoned road as Din takes you higher and higher.

The crib—he forgot the crib—

“D-Din,” you stammer out through the whistling air, stiff as a board.  Stars, you have such a different sense of adventure than him; an explorer and a daredevil, one who gets a thrill from discovering the existence of the edge of a cliff and one who’ll take a running dive off of it without thinking twice.  He’s hit with blaster fire some days, he faces down death completely fearless like it owes him one every single time, and you’re stiff as a fucking board while he carries you through the sky.  It’s stunning up here, it’s exciting and wonderful, but you’re so scared that you can barely even look.  He’s giving you the most fantastical view, everything your budding adventurous streak could ever ask for, and your terror is crushing.  It would be different if you could hold on, but you’re responsible for not letting the baby slip through your arms and you just have to trust that he won’t let you slip through his.

You raise your voice.  “Din?!”

“I won’t drop you,” he automatically reassures, and well you sure as fuck hope not, but there’s something else.

“What about the crib?”  You call out over the wind whipping, tucking the baby tight to your chest and settling your hands over his ears to avoid them flapping and whacking you repeatedly in the chin.

“We’ll come back for it,” he responds, just as easily.  Maker, you wish decision-making came that easy to you, that commitment and choice should be so simple as to just fly away from things on the ground and promise out loud to come back for them.  You know he will, but still, his spontaneity shocks you after spending the past week thinking every decision through meticulously, and you’re taken aback by the casualness of it all while soaring through the sky, committing such spectacular feats without a single thought beyond it.

Soon—incredibly soon, which honestly kind of blows your mind—you spot Nariss glowing in the distance and then you’re flying overtop of the city, slowly dropping altitude in the middle of a quiet little side street.

Din carefully allows your feet to settle on the ground before letting go, but you still stumble a bit stupidly after flying so high without any sort of safety measure besides him, prioritizing the steadiness of the baby in your arms instead of your feet underneath you.  His gloves catch at your clumsy body and pull you along with him without another word, leading you out of the quiet alley and into the middle of a beautiful, luminescent street.

What’s he doing?  He seems slightly hurried, and you’re clueless but you go with it, clamoring along behind him to wherever he’s leading you.

Though, you suddenly remember one of the very last things you told him last night right before he steps up in front of a vendor.

“Caf,” Din grunts, sliding a few credits towards the man standing behind the counter. “The… biggest one you have.”

Okay, well.  You could just about fucking cry.

“Y’sure?” The vendor asks skeptically, jerking his head at the large thermos behind him.  He’s balding, wearing a white outfit with his eyes scrunched up and forehead sweaty, likely working all day.  “It ain’t fresh.  Closin’ up soon, was just about to trash it and go home.”

The helmet turns to gauge your response to the news, the sharp angles and contours looking so sleek and dangerous as they reflect the colorful lamplights, but just filling you with comfort beyond anything in the entire galaxy.  He’ll take that armor off for you tonight and you’ll sleep next to him.  He’ll call you by your given name, or the fond name he’s given you, and you’ll cuddle your baby on a metal floor in hyperspace with him, and all will be well.  Even if he needs to leave again soon—even if you don’t get to go with him, you’ll always have these small eternities with each other, and that’s more enough for you now.

You’re completely zoned out while staring at him, and Din turns back to the vendor before you can even remember the conflict he was attempting to defer to you.

“Yeah, just empty the whole thing in there for her,” he mutters, and you want to marry him.  It’s been a long week, and in your haze and delight of being with him in this gorgeous setting, your brain turns to cavewoman mush.  Big man, makes me happy.  Strong man, loves me, knows me.  Provider, makes me feel good, protector, loves me.

Din hands you the large cup of steaming caffeine, clueless to your grunted inner monologue but knowing better than to reach out and grab the kid from your other arm.  You’re just fine like this, hands full, the little frog snuggled up against your side and blinking up at your face instead of any of the shiny or glowing things around you.  When you look down at him, you can see the world through his eyes—quite literally, they’re reflective and gigantic—and his father’s hand quickly finds its preferred spot on your lower back.

“Try to drink it quick,” Din advises you gruffly, pulling you snug into his side and sloshing the big cupful of piping hot liquid in your hand.

“It’s a thousand degrees,” you protest, trying to balance your three favorite things in the universe all begging for your direct attention at once.  “It has to cool down.”

He gives a dismissive hm in response, and you frown even as your heart soars with how tightly he’s gripping you, how little leeway you have to even move without him.  Part of you is so thrilled at being reunited with him that you consider snarking something back at him, excitement making you brave.  He could probably chug boiling hot liquid in thirty seconds and doesn’t see the point in letting it sit any longer, and you could make some stupid joke about filtering it through his helmet or having a built in bendy straw but you decide to keep it to yourself.

So then you just stand there together, under stringed lights and flowers everywhere, and he waits.  Holding you glued to his side, completely silent and clearly just waiting for your caf to stop steaming so threateningly in your hand so you can drink it.  For some reason, the fact that he’s wanted by the New Republic doesn’t really register at this second—you’re not looking for cops, though he may be.  You’re just lost in this beautiful, fancy city that’s on the edge of finally quieting down after a long day, and you’d like to see more of it with him next to you.

“Well, do you wanna just…”  You ask, tilting your head around at all the vendors.  “Shop around for a bit?”

“Shop… around,” Din repeats slowly, sounding the words out like they’re not common Basic.  Admittedly, they do sit a bit awkward in his voice when put together like that, describing a phenomena he’s likely never even considered a thing before, but it’s so fucking pretty here and you’d like to show him something this time instead of the other way around.

“Yeah, like,” you shrug a shoulder, tipping your head in a random direction.  Anywhere, you’ll go literally anywhere with him, the three of you can go explore.  “Just wander around, and look at all the pretty things.”

From where you’re standing right now, you can already see glittering crystals and jewels being sold at the tent across the street, there’s a booth dedicated entirely to floral arrangements and crowns next to it, you can hear a distant quartet playing melodically in the distance and a couple is being painted by an artist on the corner.  Bars are in full swing at this point, as if they weren’t all day, and even though the merchandise is all different, the multicolored tents look slightly similar when they’re underlit with multicolored lights.  It’s less slightly lively than it was in the daytime, but also… more beautiful, in a sense.  Muted, softer, more romantic.

“I don’t have any more credits,” Din admits casually, finally turning to look around at everything.  You get the feeling that he’s just now seeing it, even after spending the entire day here.  “That stale caf was the last of it.”

Money well fucking spent, you can assure him of that.

“It’s okay,” you tell him automatically, gently bumping your hip into his.  “We don’t need credits, we can just look.”

So that’s what you do.  Even though it’s completely not his fucking style, for the next hour or so, you just walk around downtown with him and sip your caf, looking at anything and everything new and experiencing it with him.  At first, you think he’s just entertaining you, following you while you discover new streets and attractions, but then he points out different things and you know he's looking, too.  There are large animals harnessed up and pulling carts for people to ride, there's an enormous spinning wheel set up in the distance, its colorful lights flickering out as soon as you ask what the fuck that is and why anyone would ever get inside one.

You eventually end up finishing your caf around the time he’s leading you back through a quiet, abandoned alleyway, and you hand him the empty cup to throw away in one of the trash cans on the corner.  The conversation has faded to a comfortable quiet and you don’t really need to ask—you go willingly, not requiring anything beyond his hands on you and the baby dozing in your arms.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he murmurs, gently sweeping you up into his.  You sigh, glad he’s giving you a moment to prepare yourself this time, holding the sleeping kid securely to your chest and resting your head on his shoulder.  “Let’s go home.”

After you’re comfortable, Din rockets up from the ground and climbs high up into the canvas sky.  He disappears with you and the baby into the pastel clouds above, making it back to the Razor Crest in probably about an hour, maybe less.  You and the baby do nothing more than climb into the comfy floor blankets while Din starts up the engines, and you think you’re dozing off together by the time he makes the pit stop to collect the crib and the jump into hyperspace.

You think he might shower?  You’re not sure—you just know he moves up behind you in bed at one point without any armor, burying his face in your hair while you cuddle the sleepy kid to your chest.  It’s dark in the hull, Din’s palms are bare and warm as they slide around the front of your body and he breathes you in, and there isn’t a single place that can touch you here, not a single place you’d rather be.

Home.

***

@followwhereshegoes​ Thank you for the stunning artwork! 💕To anyone interested in possibly doing an art collab in the future, please message me!!

[gatheringbones]

[“This is what I found when I had moved and was settled in at Merrill Gardens:

Not counting the residents of the memory wing (like most residents, I knew little about the “Garden House") there were four Asian women and one man of Asian descent; I couldn't tell if any were gay, but I assumed all were straight. There was one African American man who was a closeted gay and one white man who was also closeted. All these people were in their eighties or nineties. One white woman, who was probably in her seventies, told me that she had aways had women as partners.

This is how I discovered the Merrill Gardens' queers.

One night, I saw a quiet dark- skinned man sitting by himself at dinner. My gaydar went off.

"Do you know any gay men here?" I asked.

He stared at me.

"Well, you look like you might know some," I said.

"No," he said, “do I look gay?"

"No, no," I explained before returning to my pasta, “I just said you looked like you might know some who are.”

“I'd advise you to blend in the best you can." That was his advice.

I kept eating and thinking.

Another pause ensued.

Then he said, “I can't think of anyone."

That was the end of our conversation.

Next, I tried sitting with a female resident and her friend at breakfast. Her friend, a white man, was waiting to eat breakfast with another resident. He had just told us a long story about a “friend" taking him on a train ride to Redwood City. Then he got up to meet his breakfast “friend." After he left, the woman told me that his “friend," a man, had spent the night with him.

Aha, I thought, someone gay. I asked her if he had ever been married.

“Oh, no," she said. “I really don't think so."

I went after the man and caught up with him at the mailboxes. He was over 95, wearing jeans and( what I learned later was) one of his many Hawaiian shirts. I had heard from another resident that when he was younger, he used to get up at 5 a.m. and run around Lake Merritt, but he didn't do that anymore.

"I'm wondering if you're gay," I said, launching right in. He looked surprised. “Because I am," I continued. “I'm a lesbian. I have just moved in and I'm trying to find other gay people who are here. Are you gay?"

Silence. But he opened his mouth. I could see past his red- rimmed eyes and his pasty skin, all the way back to his throat. Then he shut his mouth and smiled. From that moment on we were friends.

What did it mean? I thought it meant that he had grown up in a world where one never said out loud that one was gay, but he didn't want to lie to me, so he simply said nothing.

There was one other man, who was very closeted, but open with me, although I fought with, and about, him a lot. And one woman. When I saw on her list of friends and family, only women, “Oh," I said. “So, you're a lesbian."

"No, I'm not!" she protested. “I just prefer women."

Oh well, I thought. My reaction to most things I can do nothing about.

Most of the people that I met at Merrill Gardens were in their eighties and nineties. They grew up in an era of gayness that didn't speak its name. Everything was quiet. But their children and grandchildren are gay or fluid, and their great-grandchildren might even be trans. So, they were friendly towards me; they were nice.

As older folks, they're not homosexual or heterosexual; they're “post-sexual." And they didn't think I had a sexuality. Whenever I did talk about being a lesbian— and mostly I didn't— they were quick to tell me about their neighbors or friends who were gay. But not about themselves.

I didn't fit into their culture, which was heterosexual-normative, although they didn't know it. Instead of joining them in the post-sexual wilderness, I decided to make my own culture. I re-joined Old Lesbians Organized for Change (OLOC) and went to a retreat, and went to Mother Tongue Readers Theatre, although the latter looks down on the former. They call it politics, but it's class.

I'd have to make my own culture— because I'd be surrounded by straight people everywhere.”]

nancy e. stoller, from being a lesbian at merrill gardens, from sinister wisdom issue 122: How Can A Woman Who Is With A Trans Man Call Herself A Lesbian? spring 2024

[moemammon]

The Demon Bros react to GN!MC Sleeping while Standing Up!

(Interpreting this as mild sleep waking)

Lucifer

Lucifer found you standing in the hallway just outside of your room, after curfew.

He's used to you lurking and sneaking around, considering the troublemaker you are, so it doesn't surprise him to see you out so late.

What DOES surprise him is when he calls your name, but you don't respond. And when he touches you.... that's when he realizes you're sleeping. You're snoring and everything.

Belphie does the same from time to time so he's more or less prepared to handle it. Though, that's just one more thing to add to the 'why MC is troublesome' list...

He carefully eases you back into your room, being careful not to startle you awake, before managing to get you back into your bed. Maybe he should consider tying you down? 🤔

Mammon

"And that's when I- Huh? Oi, human! You're spillin' coffee everywhere!"

You fell asleep while serving yourself a cup o' joe, effectively spilling it everywhere and startling poor Mammon. Could you be any clumsier???

Though, he's more worried about you burning yourself so he snatches the pot and moves you away, startling you awake. He knows how fragile you humans can be!

"Are ya seriously sleepin' right in the middle of the kitchen?? That's dangerous! Geez, what'll ya do without me by your side if ya can't even handle pouring some coffee?"

He's now using it as an excuse to follow you around everywhere. What? You might fall asleep in the middle of the road, or in a dark alley somewhere! He's gotta keep you safe! It's not clingy, it's just being responsible!

Levi

He DID just wake you up in the middle of the night to come look at the new additions to his figurine collection, but he didn't expect you to stand there staring at them for so long....

Was your brain malfunctioning?? MC you good??? Wh-

Wait, we're you sleeping?! Just like in that episode of 'My Love Interest Can Sleep while Standing, and it's Seriously Freaking Me Out!'?!

Doesn't really know what to do?? He's heard that waking sleepwalkers is a bad idea and he doesn't want you spazzing out when you're so close to his precious figures....

Literally just leaves you as you are. He can't concentrate on any games or manga right now, so he's settling for reorganizing his stuff while sneaking glances at you. "Wake up already, will you? My heart can't take this kind of pressure..."

Satan

You were browsing his extensive book collection in the late evening, trying to find something to prepare you for a grueling essay coming up.

But when you'd been standing in one spot for well over trendy minutes, Satan assumed something was wrong. And rightfully so, since he soon discovered you were sleeping.

You're standing there with such a gentle expression that he can't help but laugh. Were you really comfortably standing like that? The pressure of that essay must've been too much for your brain, huh?

He watches you for a little while, making mental notes of every time you move. He's read a book on sleepwalking before, but he's only ever seen Belphie do it. Interesting!

He does wake you eventually though, patting the small of your back and calling out your name. "MC, don't you think my bed would be much more comfortable for you? If you're tired, you should nap for a bit before getting back to your studies."

Asmo

Ooooh, he KNEW you weren't listening to him!

Asmo dragged you away to a shopping outlet and was making you help him choose a few new wardrobe pieces. While he spent his time in the changing room, he was going on and on about the party he’d been invited to.

And you were WAY too quiet. You didn't even respond to his playful teasing! So when he opened the door and saw you standing there sleeping, in the middle of the store, he sort of.... froze?

"Um....sweetheart? Are you okay? Are you really asleep right now??" He's patting your cheek to get a reaction out of you. Did his overwhelming beauty put you into a coma??

And speaking of beauty... maybe a kiss would wake you up? Only one way to find out~ 😘

Beel

Belphie is that you-

He's also pretty used to seeing this sort of thing, being so close to his twin and all. It's just a surprise that there's someone else capable of doing it.

He watches as you stand there, your head leaning to the side while you snore away, standing completely upright near the bathroom.

From the looks of it, you'd just finished washing up and tried to get back to your room for bed, but you didn't make it there. His heart softens up when he realizes that.

So he gently picks you up in his arms, careful not to wake you as he takes you back to your room and tucks you into bed. Maybe he should pass your room more often to make sure you make it there?

Belphie

Eyyyyy same

He was pretty surprised when he found you sleeping, your cheek pressed against the hallway wall and your RAD blazer in your hand. From the looks of it, you were trying to get ready for school, but didn't make it.

The other brothers were gone already, too. As for Belphie, he was skipping as usual. But that meant he got to see you in a rare predicament. Even if he gets scolded by Lucifer, this makes it worth it.

Somehow the cowboy has managed to lead you all the way back to his room and into his bed without waking you, and now he's all cuddled up with you comfortably. Your blazer has been thrown onto the floor, a sign that he has no intention of letting you go to school today.

But that's alright, isn't it? Why go to RAD when you can stay with him for the entire afternoon? And when you wake up, you'll be safely tucked away into his arms. That's better than listening to a demonology lesson, right?

[lovelybarnes]

restless- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, mentions of natasha romanoff, sam wilson, and steve rogers warnings: mentions of nightmares and clingy bucky but it’s mostly fluff about: bucky can’t sleep without y/n a/n: i was going to post this yesterday but i fell asleep :| my computer was literally open and nearly dead when i woke up lmao

today marks one week that you’ve been gone, and with it, the official shortest amount of sleep that bucky has gotten in a week. he supposes it’s sightly pathetic that he can’t sleep well- or, really, at all- without you, but you continuously tell him you chase his nightmares away for him, and without you there to make them disappear, where else will they go but deep into the crevices of his mind, where they’ll hide long enough for him to let his guard down and lull himself to sleep, only to wake up with the ugly memories of things he hoped he’d forgotten. he’s constantly told that his attachment to you is overbearing- not by you, though. never by you- because it must be, with how much he clings to your side, always touching some part of you so that he’s sure that, yes, you’re there. not a dream or an illusion, although you’re good enough to be one.

he misses every part of you; your fingers and the way they run through his hair, trace his features with such tenderness he nearly believes he is what you see, your voice and its ability to transform the most mundane words into the greatest poetry, sing soft songs into his skin until he’s fallen asleep, your eyes and how they examine him in the best way possible, glowing when they meet his.

he longs for you, but he can only imagine your smile, the bitter reminder that you’re probably showing it to some psychopath for the mission you’re on. he hates steve every time the memory is evoked, the panic that comes with your being used as bait for some of the most screwed up villains in the world only returning stronger. he’s tempted to go get you himself, uncaring if he screws up the mission because at least he’ll have you.

stark will call him pathetic, then go to bed with the love of his life, so bucky prefers keeping his thoughts about you to himself, much like he’d like to keep you. you’ve told him you can handle yourself, and bucky never doubts it, having been victim to the using of your skills when he first encountered you as the winter soldier. you kicked his ass then, and you kick any and all ass now.

it doesn’t help his sleeping schedule, though your calls do. he swears you’re an angel because there’s no way a normal human could glow like that through a screen, but you always laugh off his words and simply tell him to turn his brightness down. however, you haven’t taught him that yet, so he greets you with the same sentence every time. his smile is always brighter after your calls, the dark bruises under his eyes reduced as if he got a full night’s rest. it’s your effect on him, and as much as everyone teases you both for it, they appreciate it.

you’re due to come back in a week or two, but bucky is unsure he can wait that long, and judging from your chirpier-than-usual voice in your latest interaction, you’ve finished early, like you always do. he likes to imagine it’s because of him, behind the deprecating voice that screams at him why would it be? (the answer is that you love him and hate every second you’re away from him)

sam scoffs when he overhears him telling that to steve, sitting down next to bucky, “man, there is no way you can tell that from a phone call. even if you could, i know she’s good, but to shave two weeks off mission time? natasha hasn’t even been able to do that.” a proud smile grows on bucky’s face without his permission as he shrugs, “she’s that good,” he brags, choosing to ignore the fake gag sam sends his way.

you frown when he tells you what he thinks on your call a few hours later, lips puckering into a small pout, “how did you know? i wanted it to be a surprise!” you ask through a crackled voice. so much for state of the art technology, bucky thinks, but is glad nonetheless to hear your voice. “i know you too well, doll. you’re really coming back today?”

you nod excitedly, biting your bottom lip. “mhm! i missed you and my bed too much to stay here a moment longer. villains are such pervs,” you complain, nose scrunching. bucky’s jaw sets when he hears your words, immediately thinking the worst. “but, i’m coming back today, so it’s fine. what do you want to do when i get back?”

bucky shrugs, “be with you,” he answers simply, making you laugh. “other than that, dummy. we could watch a movie, have a little date night to make up for the one i missed while i was gone.” bucky grins at this, remembering his plans for that night. “okay,” he agrees, “we’ll watch one of those movies on my list. although sam put some weird ones.”

you concur through chuckles that pass through the phone, reminding him how much you love him. he swears an oath to never let you go again and bites back a yawn that you see right through. “you’re sleeping the moment i get back,” you instruct, and bucky nods with your words, even when the sole idea of your being within arm’s reach is obviously too enticing to pass up for sleep. “whatever you want, doll. as long as you’re here.” he replies, thinking about spending the night pressing kisses to your hair and checking for any injuries you may have withheld from him.

the sentence is dishonest and you both know it, but you leave it at that, missing him too much and sure he’ll rest with how exhausted he must be. you say goodbye without the actual words, only giving a blown kiss and a “see you later.”

bucky spends the rest of the hours without you thinking of you, skimming through the words written in the little blue notebook you got him to replace his old one. that one sits on his dresser, the disuse proven by the layer of dust that covers it. the names he spent hours agonizing over, tracing his fingers over the indents made by the pen, are hidden by its cover. they never fade from his mind, though. only half of the pages of the one you gave him are blank now, and the ones that aren’t are bright and white, inviting him to drop his pen on the lines and jot whatever reference he didn’t understand but wants to. he eyes the names of the movies and shows, some accompanied by quotes that refer to them. “new girl: nick miller,” he reads, remembering how one of your friends said he was the avenger version of the character. “friends: ‘joey doesn’t share food,” sam told him that one when he didn’t let him have any of his chips. he looks at clueless, recalling the way all of his teammates stare at scott whenever the movie comes up. there are a couple pages like this, some of them recommendations and others titles he kept hearing. tonight, he decides on starting a new show, but he leaves the actual show up to you to decide.

you arrive a couple hours later, when stars have littered the darkness that bled through the sky. it’s all very rom-com-filmesque, the way you light up when you see his face- even through how tired you clearly are- and how you jump into his arms, ignoring the ache in your muscles because the way his arms wrap around you seems to make it disappear. he gathers you in his arms and kisses everywhere on your face, treasuring your laugh and the feeling of your lips pressing to his shoulder when you hug him again.

even when you pull away, he doesn’t let go of your hand, flesh fingers tracing small circles into your skin. you don’t complain, even when steve shoves papers in front of you and asks you to sign them with a sheepish look. sam comes by and teases bucky lightheartedly, hounding bucky to let you have both your hands. you chuckle at his request and squeeze bucky’s fingers, kissing the back of his hand, “oh, no, he better not,” you half-joke. he smiles, red tinting his cheeks as he gently draws you closer.

you don’t feel like driving at the moment, and you need to water your plants, completely sure that wanda forgot to do it, so you end up going to your room, even though you spend most of your time at his own room or your apartment outside the compound. you can tell how little the room has been used by the spotless counters and floors, furniture clean of any of the knickknacks you usually leave. you only sleep here when bucky leaves for long missions, his absence is overly blatant when he’s gone, and your plants keep you from feeling too alone.

you usher bucky inside, tugging open your drawers to search for something for him to wear. you grin at the soft fabric under the pads of your fingertips, recalling the memory of stealing them from bucky’s closet to soak in his scent when you couldn’t have the real thing. the considerable use has washed away all traces of him, and you decide that needs to be fixed, picking out clothing for him.

you change into one of his old shirts and make tea while he changes, smiling when you feel his arms wrapping around your waist and kissing your jaw. “what do you want to watch tonight?” he asks, and you contemplate it while you pour your drinks, shoveling spoons of sugar into each one to make it as sweet as possible- his favorite. “new girl, i think you’ll like it,” you reply after a moment.

he unravels his arms from around you, taking the mugs from the counter and following you to your room after you peck his cheek in thanks. “okay, i want to see what this nick miller is all about,” bucky says, making you laugh softly. “c’mon,” he urges, opening his arms for you after setting the cups down. you cuddle up to his side after you grab your computer, setting up netflix and choosing the show.

halfway through the first episode, bucky feels the fatigue hit him like a ton of bricks, hours of missed sleep catching up to him now that he’s finally relaxed and comfortable. keeping his eyes open is a job all on its own, and the sweet smell of your hair combined with the way your fingers move on his chest, softly writing letters and drawing shapes, is too much to resist.

you barely notice when he shuts his eyes, the evening of his breathing alerting you he’s succumbed to his tiredness. you stop the video and quietly shut your laptop, placing it on the bedside table while moving as little as possible. he feels you shift through your efforts, pulling you closer in his sleep. you chase away his nightmares like you always do, letting him sleep his first full night since you left.

he wakes up rejuvenated and embarrassed, sputtering out embarrassed apologies that you shush with kind reassurances and tender kisses. he’s reminded of how wonderful you are when you turn, arms extending to reach into your bag and carrying out a small stuffed animal that you say reminded you of him.

[moonglowmagic]

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Don’t call me that.” Pulling a piece of paper off her napkin and she flicked it at him. “I’m not a pancake.” Sighing loudly at his questions before she looked at him with a laugh. “You’re really interested in this corn aren’t you?” She managed to get out between a laugh. “Yes we laid together in some corn. I was having a bad day so I just laid in the corn and she came in and laid with me. We just laid there quietly.” She told him nonchalantly, she didn’t see why this was such a big deal. “It was a corn pit thing. Do I look like I know that much about corn here Caleb?” She asked with a seriousness before gesturing to herself. “It was just pieces of corn. I’m not sure if it was cooked or kernels. Whatever they have at the stupid corn pit thing that they make me have.” She waved off with a flick of her wrist. “I’ve been trying to get rid of it for years, but people love that stupid pit.” She replied bitterly, there was many things in this town that she’d tried to remove from events but the residents always threw a fit and demanded them back the second they found out they weren’t on the agenda. The irony of the conversation wasn’t lost on Dilan as she sat across Caleb listening to him explain why someone wasn’t a thief when she was one. Rather than talk for a change she just listed to him explain why he felt that Billie was innocent. Resting her head in her hand as she processed the information coming at her. She knew better than anyone that the best thieves were the ones you didn’t expect like Leyla; which is what made them so good. “That’s really sweet of you know you know? Making her have fun on the date I mean.” She tried to explain before she shook her head no. “I don’t believe she did no. I mean I also don’t believe Anna would be so stupid to be caught either.” She knew Anna was better than that, after all she looked up to Anna in a way. “But to play devils advocate here what does a thief look like to you?” There was a hint of a smirk playing across her lips as she asked the question. Leaning forward on her elbows as she whispered to him knowing he could her. “Have you ever thought that the best thieves are the ones you don’t see coming? I mean who would ever suspect the pretty awkward girl?” There was a reason that Leyla was the one who stole most things and why she was the front. While she could do it she wasn’t half the thief Leyla was when it came down to skills. “Let’s take me. Do you think I could be a thief?” Asking as she tapped her nails on the table in front of her while she waited for his answer. 

“Honestly? I really only joined for Leyla. She was friends with Bea and well….” She shrugged nonchalantly once more. “Majorie never accepted who we were when we came to town or our lifestyle at the time. Bea seemed more accepting at the time.” Now she was pretty sure Bea just tolerated her and it was probably a matter of time before she got kicked out of the court. Pushing the plate towards him when he reached out his fork. “Plus I think there was a part of me that always expected this place to be temporary like everywhere else we’ve been?” She’d been more places with her family and the girls than most people could even name on a map. “Can I ask why you wanted asked? Verses just asking to join yourself?” She hesitantly approached the question. “I’ll be honest I don’t think Bea asked as much as we just joined.” She explained shortly. Watching as he moved to take a bite of her eggs and she gave a laugh. “Told you.” Knowing that they were horrible, there was a reason why she’d been pushing the food around the plate. “Caleb—“ Dilan tried to stop him but he had already flagged down the waitress and was getting a to go box. “Yes, I’m aware how bunch works and I did eat. I ate the bacon.” She pointed to the plate with the missing bacon on it. “I just didn’t like the eggs or anything else on my plate.” Sitting there in silence as the scene unfolded quicker than she could really process and she was still sitting in the booth when he got up and offered his hand. “Can we go back to literally anything else? That one is awful.” Complaining about the nickname with a whine, she scrunched up her nose in disgust. “You already have pancakes.” Pointing to his box. When he mentioned flipping her over his shoulder and making a scene she gave him a questioning look half debating if he’d actually do it; which she came to the conclusion he would. “Fine. As much as I love a good scene with my meals I’ll reframe from having you make one.” She told him as she put her hand in his and slid out of the booth looking at the others in the diner with them who weren’t paying a bit of attention to either of them. “Plus this skirt is way too short for that. Elizabeth already showed herself or well me to half the town. The last thing they need to see is more of me.” Leading him outside as she started to walk towards end of the line. “Also you paid for this meal, so next is on me and don’t you dare fight me on it.” She pointed at him using her fee hand to let him know she was serious and that she was paying for this meal they were about to have. 

"Wait- I'm sorry, go back. What now, short stack? Let me get this straight. The two of you... laid together... in some corn? I'm going to ignore the 'that's what she said' joke in there for a moment to ask, why? Where? What kind of corn? Was it like a corn field or actual kernels of corn? And were they like cooked corn or like uncooked popcorn?" He asked, one question rolling off the tip of his tongue followed by another. "Because if you knew her, you'd know she's not a thief. I mean we're talking about someone who could buy anything they wanted with a black card and panicked at the thought of having to spend someone else's money? Someone whose such a rule follower that she didn't feel comfortable letting loose and having fun until I told her that it was a mandatory part of going on a basket date? We're talking about someone who hates being the center attention and who gets nervous when one person's eyes are on her let alone a whole town's? And you honestly believe she orchestrated a number of different break ins, where she intentionally left a radio at the scene of the crime that was playing her own radio station? It's not Billie," He promised her, knowing that it might seem weird for a scientist to feel so strongly about a gut instinct he had over a girl he had spent one day with, but in that day, Billie had become his friend and he couldn't help, but feel protective over her.

"Nope. And yeah, I was. But, I don't know? Why did it take you so long to join the Fae Court?" He asked her with a raised brow, as he reached his fork across. "Nico never asked me, okay?" He gave her a nonchalant shrug, brushing off the question as he moved to take a bite of some of the eggs on her plate, only to make a face as he did. "Yeah, no. Not good. Okay, check please and can I get a to-go box?" He asked, flagging down their waiter without a second though. "It's not fine. We went out to eat, so we both should be eating. Believe it or not, that's sort of how brunch works- thanks so much," Caleb flashed the waiter a smile as he pulled out far more cash from his wallet than the bill was worth, but hey, now their server was in for one hell of a tip, before he moved to package up his own pancakes. Pulling himself up to his feet as he held his hand out towards her. "Come on, Pipsqueak. I promise you they have pancakes elsewhere. So, you can either walk with me to End of the Line or I can flip you over my shoulder and make a huge scene as I carry you there. What's it gonna be?"

[buckysswinter]

the last time

18+ minors dni

warnings: smut(18+),oral (f&m!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), choking, down right filthy sex, squirting, fluff ending?

not edited or beta'd- do not repost or translate!

eb!frank x female!reader

word count: 1,900

sequel to 'tis the damn season

this is the last time I'm asking you this, put my name at the top of your list

y/n felt frank watching her, whenever she looked his way he tried to subtly look away. it felt as if he needed to tell her something. y/n felt bad for leaving him all those years ago, but she was healing and frank wasn't ready for a relationship. then she'd learned about daphne, who frank might have gotten pregnant. when she heard the gossip from her friends a slight pang hit her chest and she couldn't understand why. she was the one who rejected him all those years ago, she didn't have the right to feel this way. right?

the more she thought about it the more her chest hurt. she had no right to feel this way, frank had asked to stay and she decided not to. throughout the years her and frank had skirted around the awkwardness surrounding them. she just wished she took the initiative when she was ready to finally go out with someone.

she was seeing frank tonight at their friend's engagement party and y/n hope that she could talk to him. she wished that he wanted to speak to her even maybe reconcile and get rid of the awkwardness between them.

as she got ready she got her lilac sundress with daises embroidered at the bottom of the skirt. she did a soft look on her face, her face looked bright. the aura she brought around her was light and warm. her hard was done in braids with strands hanging on her face, she also put some tiny butterfly clips on her hair. she liked how she looked, much different from the girl she was the last time she was home.

as soon as she entered the venue for the engagement party she saw her group of girl friends in one corner, all of them smiled and waved at her. she made her way towards them but not before she made eye contact with frank, she smiled at him.

-"i'd never though i'd see you back here y/n," one of her old friends sounded excited to see her.

-"i know but i can't just not come back, you guys are here and after all this is my hometown" what y/n said was all true, this was her hometown but she felt alienated being here.

-"well frank's been asking about ya" one of them spoke up again, y/n raised her eyebrows with this information.

everyone was drunk and dancing, just like the last time she saw frank. but this time, y/n haven't had a drink. she wanted to have control of her emotions talking to frank. she looked for him everywhere and she saw him by the garden of the venue.

-"hey you, i've been looking for you" she was straight forward.

-"yeah? how come" frank sounded nervous, he's thought about her and having her for more than five years.

-"well i wanted to catch up but i also heard about what happened last year," she didn't know why she had to bring up the daphne incident, but it came up like word vomit.

frank nodded at her statement and let out a sharp exhale,

-"yeah i kinda fucked up but you know i'm a changed man now," this was as if he was promising her something.

-"yeah? well i'm a changed woman now too," she didn't know why she said that, almost as she was offering something to him and before she look at his reaction, his lips were on hers. she was savoring the way his lips felt and finally she took his face in her hands and kissed him back.

-"i think we should talk somewhere else," frank was out of breathe and all y/n could do was nod, they ran to frank's car and he drove them out of the venue.

they arrived at frank's apartment complex, the pair was rushing to get up to his apartment. as soon as they arrived at his apartment, they were on each other, hands touching each other's body part.

-"god i've waited so long for this" frank's voice was huskier than she remembered and that only made her wetter. all she could do was nod, frank carried her and it took her by surprise.

frank carried her to the room, setting her to the bed. she took her dress off along with her underwear and in return frank stripped his clothing except for his boxers. y/n was sitting on the bed admiring frank and she didn't expect frank to pull her down and she squealed at the action, frank chuckled at her reaction. she opened her legs for him. frank settled between them and continued to kiss her. he went down along her body, stopping at her neck to suck on that spot that makes her go crazy. it was unbelievable how well frank knew her body when they've only slept once, five years ago.

-"damn baby, you're so wet" frank took his finger swiped it along her folds, the wetness being spread. frank spat on her pussy, the action making her moan. his finger spreading the spit all over, he paid special attention to her clit. this made her squirm, frank knew what to do with her body and she loved it. the buzz he provided her was unreal. his tongue was suddenly prodding her hole, this made her feel unreal.

-"fuck frank, please please please," she was begging but she didn't know for what.

frank's tongue lapped her pussy like there was no tomorrow. he took her clit in his mouth and played with it. frank was turned on by the noises she was making, his hips were rutting the air. he inserted two fingers in her and felt her walls clamp down, he moved them in a motion that touched her g spot and within second she came. y/n felt euphoric, she was out of breathe and she saw frank's erect cock. she slid down to the floor and got on her knees. frank gave her a questionable look.

-"take your boxers off baby, please, i wanna suck your cock," her words made frank groan making the throb of his cock more painful. frank quickly stripped of his underwear, his tip was red and leaking. y/n took it by hand and spit on the head of his cock. she worked her hands through to spread the spit, giving the tip of his cock kitten licks along with stroking his cock.

-"yeah baby that feels fucking amazing," frank's voice was strained, seeing y/n on her knees sucking his cock almost made him cum.

the encouragement he gave her gave her confidence to put his dick in her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip and finally sucking and bobbing her head up and down. she looked up at frank and saw him with his eyes closed, mouth slightly open. she took this as a sign to keep going, deep throating his whole cock. her eyes watered with her actions but frank's moans powered her through it, she was breathing through her nose to provide frank with all this pleasure. the next thing she knew he was cumming down her throat and she swallowed every last bit of it, she opened her mouth to show frank that she had swallowed his cum.

-"holy shit y/n you're so fucking hot baby, i can't wait to be inside you" frank manhandled y/n and placed her on the bed, her ass up and he slipped in her in one thrust. both of them moaned at the feeling.

-"please frank, you feel so good, so deep inside me" she moaned, frank almost pulled out of her, just leaving his tip in and quickly thrusted back in her. y/n jolted up with this action and he decided to grip her waist. frank was thrusting in and out of her, feeling her silky warm walls. y/n gripped on the sheets, she felt frank's dick bulging out of her. frank transferred one of his hands to her ass, gripping it tightly.

-"frank please please please, i'm gonna cum, shit please" her words were incoherent, all mixing up together.

-"i know baby, i know, i feel you, just let go" frank went faster and felt her walls clamp down on his dick, he felt her gush around him. he quickly turned y/n over and spread her legs, quickly spanking her pussy and rubbing it vigorously. this action surprised y/n, her orgasm being prolonged, the pressure was building within her again. her stomach was tightening but this felt different, it felt as if she was going to pee and the next thing she knew she was squirting.

-"god fuck y/n you're so fucking hot. holy shit" frank was surprised by this but he also found it hot.

y/n felt frank cleaning her up with a warm washcloth. she felt him give her a kiss on the forehead and cover her naked body with the blanket.

she felt the warmth of the sun shining through, she felt around the bed and felt coldness surrounding her. her brows furrowed, she had thought frank slept on the bed with her, after all this was his apartment. she got up using the thin sheet to cover her body, she walked out of the room and saw frank sleeping on the couch.

she walked up to the couch, kissing frank on the forehead. this seemed to wake him up and he sat up quickly.

-"hey, i thought you would have left by now" his sounded surprised.

y/n furrowed her brows and answered him,

-"oh, uhm, yeah i mean i can go if you want," she knew what he meant by that, she had left him last time after all.

-"no, that's not what i meant uhm, you know. i wanted to talk to you and ask you, if i had persisted you to stay the last time, would you have stayed?" his question caught her off guard.

-"listen frank, i think if i stayed last time it wouldn't have ended well. i wasn't ready to be in a relationship then and to be honest you weren't either." y/n only voiced out her reasoning for leaving.

-"yeah i guess you're right. but what about now?" frank had hoped she would say she was ready.

y/n was silent, she was ready and she wanted frank to know she was. but before she could even answer him, frank spoke,

-"please y/n, this is is the last time i ask you to stay. if you don't want to, it's ok, you can go and i won't be mad. i understand." frank sounded defeated yet, he truly did understand, if she didn't want to be with him he couldn't blame her. he only did figure out his shit after the daphne thing, he could be childish at times, and he definitely wasn't the most stable boyfriend.

-"no frank,i am ready. i actually wanted to talk to you, i want to stay here. with you" before she could finish her sentence frank kissed her.

-"yeah" his smile made her heart flutter, butterflies appearing in her stomach.

-"yeah." she said smiling. she couldn't believe she was back home and she was staying this time and she put frank's name on the top of her list.

a/n: hopefully you guys enjoyed this :)

[bookishdream]

can you do a one shot where kaz keeps saying he doesnt like nor does he care for the reader; she overhears him, and goes out into ketterdam but ends up getting seriously injured; also if it too much to ask, can i also add that he does end up giving her a hug but he hesitates at first —this corresponds with the fluff (angst and fluff at the end please ?)

thank you for a request! i hope you're okay with my slight change, enjoy xx

TW: blood, death, disgusting men.

kaz brekker x fem!reader

You were standing, leaning harder against the door of Kaz’s office. You wanted to talk to him about your next job, since you had to buy some bullets and a new knife for Nina and yourself. But what you overheard made your heart shatter into little pieces.

“I don’t care what happens to y/n, she’s another member of the Dregs. I can easily replace her if something happened to her,” bastard’s words were like daggers, cutting your skin and making their way into your heart. You were so stupid falling for him. “Now, Wylan, go and build a bomb or should I replace you as well?”

You heard Wylan’s huff and his steps. When he got out of Kaz’s room and noticed you, his eyes got wide. You sent him a crooked smile and made your way into Brekker’s room.

“I need a list of what you want for the job.” You said, voice steady even though you wanted to fall apart.

“On my desk.”

He wasn’t looking at you, busy with counting his money, you rolled your eyes and took a piece of paper from a wooden desk. You made your way out, not saying another word. Your heart clenched, you wanted to punch yourself for feeling even the slightest emotion for him. You should’ve known better than that, you should’ve known he wouldn’t feel nor show you any kind of emotion except hatred or disgust.

You got out of the club onto Ketterdam’s streets. You loved the city, even though it was dark and dangerous, you felt this was your home. You came here from northern Ravka, before your parents made you to join the First Army. You ran away from them and from the responsibility to protect your country, but you hadn’t felt bad about that, those two years ago and certainly you didn’t feel bad then.

You walked to the best shop with knives you’d known. You bought your first dagger there and you were sure about the quality of blades that were sold in the shop. The old Fabrikator was working there and when he learnt you were from Ravka, he started treating you as his daughter, selling you everything you need with lower prices.

“Hi, Milosh how are you feeling today?” you asked, entering the small shop, the older man smiled seeing you.

“Hello darling, I’m doing great,” he replied, eyeing you and noticing your dark circles underneath your eyes. “You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”

You only nodded, didn’t answer his question further. You gave him the list and when he was looking for the items, you looked out of the window. You noticed three Black Tips but you didn’t pay them more attention. You looked away and focused on Milosh. He had fair hair, probably after his father who were Fjerdan. Few months ago, when he’d found you wandering around Ketterdam, he’d asked for you to come with him to this shop. He’d given you hot cocoa and had told you some stories and myths from both Ravka and Fjerda. He’d told you about his father who once had come with a wolf and the wolf had stayed, about his mother who had been the warmest woman alive, especially when she’d made him a warm bread slice with butter and then read him stories. He was your spirit connection to your mother country, so you knew every legend, every myth and even the story about the Fold.

You heard a door bell ring and you looked behind you only to see those three guys from Geels’ gang. Your spine straightened, your palm subtly went to your belt in order to take out the knife if needed. You looked at them, but they were already looking at you with smirks on their face. You cursed under your breath, knowing it’d be troubles and you didn’t know how it’d come out.

“Who we have here boys? Brekker’s girl.” One of them said, making his way towards you, eyeing you up and down.

“I’m wondering if he got some, she’s even pretty.” The other one came behind you, grabbing you roughly by your arm. You tried to free yourself, but his second hand quickly found its way to yours, cutting your only way to defend yourself.

“I have what you needed, darling,” Milosh came out from the small room, closing the door behind him, when he noticed your position he closed his mouth, forming a thin line. “I think you should leave her.” He said to the guy who was holding you. You clenched your teeth, praying for Milosh to back out. You knew Black Tips, they weren’t the smartest, but they were first to kill and you wanted your friend safe.

“Milosh, get away from here.” You ordered, trying to shake off the hands holding you, the Black Tip only hardened his hold and pressing you to his body.

“And leave you? They should leave, not me.”

“Listen, grandpa, the girl’s right. You leave and we’re going to have some quality time with her,” disgust twisted your face, you wanted to kick him, but you knew they would outnumber you.

Milosh only looked at him and from behind him, the knives started to levitating, he used his powers to push them forward, targeting an opponent’s chest. One of the knives hit him in his neck, killing him. The guy behind you let you go and you quickly turned around, placing your dagger in his crotch. He screamed making you cringe.

“This is why you shouldn’t touch a girl without her permission.”

You looked at the third Black Tip, but he took out a gun, targeting Milosh. You threw a dagger at the same time he pulled the trigger. Knife stuck at his neck, making the pistol fall out of his hands. You looked at Milosh to check on him, but you saw a pool of blood and the man laying on his side.

“No,” you whispered, stumbling against your own legs. You fall on your knees, seeing the shot wound was on his chest, that still was slowly rising. “Milosh, please, stay with me.”

“Y/n, my dear, Saints are going to keep me safe,” he said, making your eyes water. “But you have to let me go.”

You shook your head, placing your hand on his chest, trying to stop the blood from leaking. You felt the hot tears streaming down your face. He was like your father, he couldn’t leave you. “Please.”

But his eyelids closed, making your heart break into pieces. You hugged Milosh, messing your shirt with his blood, but you didn’t care. After what felt like hours, you stood up and went for items you had come here. You felt guilty, you should’ve gone to a different store, you put Milosh in danger.

You walked out of his shop, closing the door gently. The Stadwacht would be there the next day, perhaps someone would four dead bodies, laying on the floor. Your hold on the bag with bullets and a dagger, grew tighter. You tried to calm yourself, but tears still were threatening to pour out of your red eyes. You didn’t want to show how miserable you were, you tried to wipe them off, but you didn’t notice the blood on your sleeve. Now, with blood both on your shirt and face, you looked like a psycho.

You entered the Club with the back door and you go to Kaz’s room, hoping he’d be there. You knocked and instantly after, you let yourself in. He was sitting in his chair, but when you came in, he looked up, his eyes widened at the blood which was everywhere.

“What happened to you?” he asked, getting up and making a step towards you. But like he thought better of it, he stopped, placing one of his hands on his desk. “Are you injured?”

You wanted to say something, but when you opened your mouth, only a sob came out. Kaz seeing how you barely could stand on your legs, took your arm and gently led you to the chair next to his desk.

“Y/n, I need to know if you’re wounded.” He said, looking at you, his eyes soft.

“It’s not my blood,” you whispered, making him let out the breath. He felt better knowing you were not bleeding. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”

Kaz’s head snapped, he tried to understand who you were talking about, but you only looked dead into his eyes. “I killed him, Kaz.”

You were never a person who cried after killing someone from another gang, he knew it had been hard for you since the beginning, but he had never seen you crying. He felt his heart clenched at that sight. “What happened?”

You started playing with your fingers, trying to avoid this conversation, but you knew he had to know. “Do you know who Milosh is?”

Kaz frowned, trying to put a face into the name, he nodded his head when he recalled the old man working in the store, where you bought your weapons. “He was like a father to me,” you wiped off the tears from your cheeks. “Even though I still have one, he acted more like my dad than my real one,” you laughed, but the sound was dry and humourless. You told him everything that happened. About the Black Tips, how Milosh wanted to keep you safe but he failed. How that one Black Tip was still lying unconscious on the shop’s floor. Kaz’s jaw clenched, he wanted to kill this man. You looked up at him and slowly got up. He made a step back, letting you.

You walked to the door, eyes dry and you placed your hand on the door knob.

“Wait.”

You turned around, facing Kaz who was slowly walking towards you. One minute he was beside the chair and the second one his arms were around your back, gently hugging you. You were shocked, but after a second, you hugged him back, tightening your arms around his waist. You heard him taking a breath, and you wanted to let go, but he only held you closer.

“Are you okay with that?”

“I’m great.”

[baka-monarch]

Innocent

Part One

Trigger warnings: mention of death, vore, mouth play

Part 2

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

Tommy was sitting down in the middle of his familiar cage, looking out at all the big people that were walking around and grabbing other cages. He didn't understand why people kept screaming whenever a big person would grab their cage though, the big people were always so nice, giving him free food and water, and sometimes even things to play with- well, until one of the special big people in aprons take his new toy away saying it's bad. He kept watching the big people, listening to their conversations, just like he did everyday… but today nothing interesting was happening, no one was doing any funny things and it was starting to get boring to just sit here.

Tommy's boredom was cut off at the sound of a familiar ding. He looked up to the door and saw a new big person wearing a yellow shirt with really fluffy looking brown hair and- they were looking at him!! No one ever looked at him apart from the special big people!!! Tommy smiled brightly and ran to the front of his cage to wave at the person, excited and hopeful that he could finally have a friend! The big person gave him a weird look, and Tommy wasn't sure why they seemed confused- he was just being friendly. For now Tommy didn't think about it, or really, he forgot about it as the big person walked over to him and crouched down in front of his cage.

"Now what do we have here~" The big person smirked, showing off a few of their teeth, and Tommy smiled in return at getting attention.

"Hello! I'm Tommy!!!" He introduced himself, and didn't notice the look of confusion that crossed the person's face.

"Uh, hi Tommy- are you… are you not scared?" The big person asked, and Tommy tilted his head, a bit confused by the question.

"No? Why would I be scared?" It was true that most other people were scared when a big person talked to them, but Tommy still really didn't understand what there was to be scared of.

"O- oh uhm…." The big person's face changed to show several different emotions, and after a few minutes they picked up Tommy's cage.

Tommy immediately started to bounce excitedly. He'd been picked up! That meant they picked him!! Now he'd finally get to see where all the big people took everyone to! Tommy started to think about his mama, she'd been picked once too, but she hadn't been taken out of the store like Tommy was. He zoned out the conversation the big person was having with the special big person as he imagined all the things he'd be able to do with his new friend, like finally having someone to talk to!

Tommy smiled and kept looking everywhere as he was carried out of his home and saw loads of huge walls with square holes. He'd never been out here before, and it was amazing to see the blue blanket above with it's big light (didn't big people call it the "sky and sun"? He couldn't remember-). He winced a bit whenever a loud roaring shiny thing passed them, but was still amazed by all the different colours and how fast all of them were. He let out little gasps as he saw walls with bigger holes that showed loads of amazing items he'd never seen before inside. It was all so amazing! Tommy wished he could go run around and see everything- unfortunately he couldn't as the big person carrying him made a hole appear on one of the big walls and walked inside.

"Wooooaaaahhhhh, where are we?" Tommy asked as he looked around, seeing a very unfamiliar but just as exciting new place he was now.

"This is my home…" The big person answered, and when Tommy looked up at them he was a little confused by the look on their face, he couldn't really tell what emotion it was, but it definitely wasn't the happy look they had earlier. Hmmmmm… maybe they just thought it was a mess? There was a lot of big things sitting around in the middle of the room after all.

"Well it's really really cool!!!" Tommy shouted up, trying his best to cheer up the big person.

"I guess it is…" they let out a small chuckle. They opened the cage door, and Tommy stood up in excitement. He didn't try to leave the cage as much as he wanted to, because he knew he'd just be picked up out of the cage like what was supposed to happen! So he waited, and waited… and waited, for eh big person to pick him up? Why haven't they picked him up yet? It's been a few minutes now, usually he'd be grabbed by now. "You gonna come out?"

"No, I'm waiting!" Tommy smiled up at the big person, still waiting patiently to be taken out. The big person looked at him in confusion, and he just smiled back. They let out a sigh, and Tommy smiled as he watched their huge hand reach in and pick him up. He squirmed with excitement at the feeling of being lifted up high.

"It's just like any other tiny…." They mumbled and licked their lips. Tommy watched as their mouth opened wide and he could see all of their teeth, their huge tongue, and even the dark abyss that was their throat; he didn't fight as he was dropped onto their slimey tongue, only moving to reposition himself to be comfortable. He watched as the mouth slowly closed around him, and all the light left… he wasn't scared though! He knew big people did this to people all the time! Tommy was actually excited to see where people went after being put into mouths!

Tommy started to giggle as the tongue under him began to lick him all over. Throwing him around the small space and tickling him whenever it touched his skin. He whiped some spit out of his hair, then laughed as the tongue pinned him down and got spit all over him once again. He wiggled a little bit once he was moved around and now the tongue pinned him to the top of the mouth, he then soon heard a loud gulp behind him- then he finally thought of something.

"Big person, can I ask you a question?" Tommy asked, then felt himself get pushed into a cheek, he only squirmed a little bit at how tight it was, but was otherwise comfortable already.

"Oh- uh sure…"

"When you swallow me, will I see mama? She got put into a big person's mouth too, is this gonna take me to her or to where your mouth goes?" The child asked, innocently and curiously. He waited a long time for an answer, and started to wonder if the big person didn't know where mouths took people- but then was surprised when he was spit out into the big person's hands.

"Fuuuuu- frick, you… you're actually just a kid…" They said as they held the innocent child- god he'd almost killed a child- in his hands. Wilbur watched the small one look around in confusion then finally up at him.

"Why'd you spit me out?" It- no- they asked, and Wilbur felt nothing but pain and guilt in his chest. Did they not understand? Did nobody tell them? Did they really think…. Did they really believe that humans didn't kill tinoes when they are them? "Wasn't I gonna see mama?" Dammit morals-

"W- well uh, it's not time for you t- to see her yet?" Wilbur lied, he had no idea who this kid's mom had been, just that she was dead now if she'd been eaten.

"Oh… Oh! She told me to wait for her when she was picked! I remember, so I just gotta wait more!!" He smiled up at Wilbur and he felt his heart beat more.

"Y- yeah- yeah… you just gotta.. gotta wait…" Hold it in Wil, don't cry in front of the kid.

"I can't wait to see her again-" The kid (didn't they say their name was Tommy?) said then gasped "and now I can show her my new friend!"

"New friend?" Wilbur couldn't stop himself from asking, a little curious.

"Yeah! You!!!" Tommy smiled and Wilbur felt his heart crush to a pulp.

"You- you think I'm your friend?"

"Yeah!! Your the first person to be nice to me, big person!!"

"Wilbur." He cut in.

"Hm?"

"My name is uh Wilbur…" He was definitely going to keep this kid now and try to make sure nothing bad ever happened to them.

"Okie Wilby! We'll be the bestest friends foreva!!!!" And as Tommy said that, it solidified Wilbur's promise to himself to keep this child safe. He gently ruffled their hair with a finger, and smiled when Tommy laughed.

Yeah… he'd keep them safe...... And hopefully Dream wouldn't find out about them...

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

Mcyt g/t list:

@trashpumped @lorie-the-little-ghost @encaos @i-am-a-weeb @wyforyu-gaming @5unfl0writ3r @colorfulsiren @moonmwah @iwasgoingtohellanyways @echoslime @wilbur-simp @trouble-off-grid @lilsyxx @smogs-0 @hello-world-im-snow

[blissfulparker]

Wipeout⇔ Surfer!Dad!tom

Parings: surfer!dad!tom x surfer!reader

Summary; You and Tom spend your whole relationship in the water. Surfing under the summer sun and competing in summers biggest surf competition. To a surpise, you and Tom take on the biggest challenge nature could throw at you. A baby.

Wc: 9k

Warnings: mentions of insecurities durning pregnancy, fluff

A/n: I know this isn’t a birthday themed fic for Toms b-day but I hope you all enjoy! My little spin on a summer fic with dad!tom 🥰

June.

The summer breeze rose goosebumps to your skin. Your hands coming up to rub your arms as the water was only a bit colder today.

it was summer, the best part of the year when you lived with a beach in your backyard. Spending your whole life surfing you now prepared for the summer tournament that happened only weeks away from now. Surfers, fans, media come in from nearly all over the world just to compete.

To feel a wave under their boards and the adrenaline that rushes through your blood when you finally get on top. The same competition that lead you to Tom, Tom who was now your boyfriend of two years. At first, you laughed at the boy.

Pale, shy—yet so cocky and from London of all places. The most water they got is from the sky. You wanted to laugh with your friends for how confident he was acting, little rain boy wanted to have a chance in the big ocean and he did. To your shock, he scored better than you and scored to be in the top 10. Your laughs stopped after competition and maybe it was the slight momentary enemy thing or it was that deep blue bikini that made him find you after the games and get you out for a drink.

That drink was truly a shared basket of fish and chips as you talked more and more about each other. Pale, rainy London boy ended up being the best thing that ever happened to you.

“You wiped out twice!” He sits atop his board and your hands rub over your face.

“Maybe because I’m distracted!” You splash water in his direction. His toned abs always tanner during g this year and it was hard for the both of you to control yourself. “I’m just tired, stressed.” You shrugged it off truthfully.

“You fell asleep at 8:00 last night, grandma.” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Competition stress.” You point to him and he shrugs. If he’s honest, within the two years he’s known you, two years he’s loved and wondered where you had been all his life, he knew your stress. When you were stressed you oftentimes took long showers or wrote in your journal for hours on end but this time your stress was sleeping early/in late and a few times he’s caught you throwing up. All under the name of stress.

He didn’t push anything though, reminding you that he is there and you could tell him anything. But nonetheless, he left you be and just kissed your cheek and told you everything was okay.

“Race you to shore and whoever gets back inside first gets the leftover chicken from last night!” He starts to swim and you quickly flatten yourself on your board.

“What are we like five?” You call out but still push yourself to go faster. Pushing yourself to race him to shore.

Even though Toms board was definitely double his size, he still beat you into the house, already washed off and reheating the leftovers for lunch. After a morning swim you always had lunch before you went off to work where you would teach little kids how to surf. No matter what, you were always around the water.

“So I was checking the competition list this week, checking to see if there’s anyone new…” he trails off on a story. The two of you share the chicken and fries before you suddenly get a disgusted taste in your mouth. The chicken suddenly becomes sour in your mouth but you force yourself to swallow, Tom notices the change and he stops everything to make sure you’re okay.

“Darling, what is it?” He has a worried look but you shake your head.

“Nothing—it’s nothing. I-I just think this part of my chicken was a bit undercooked and it grossed me out. It’s nothing.” You smiled at him and he waited a second before continuing his story.

But that wasn’t the end of it, the next bite even more sour and this time you drop your fork and open the trash can to spit it out. The spitting then followed by spitting up all of your breakfast and lunch. Tom quickly coming to move any stray hair and rubbing your back as he tried to not throw up himself.

When you were done, he quickly closed the trash can lid and got you into the bathroom where he assembled the toothbrush for you.

“Peaches, I know that you told me not to worry but this is the third time this week.” He folded his arms as he leans against the wall.

“I’m fine.” You say through a mouth filled with toothpaste. Spitting into the sink and rinsing your mouth while also splashing some water over your face. When you look back up, just a bit, your eyes flicker to the untouched box of tampons.

One week late wasn’t so bad, one week late was just some built up stress and every women had been a week or two late before. But before tom can take notice in your distraction, you turn around to him who hands you a towel.

“But you’re not fine.” He argues a bit gently, not wanting to offend you.

“Tom, in school I would throw up during exam seasons all the time. It’s just stress okay? Better than losing hair or breaking out I guess.” You try and joke with him but he doesn’t exactly laugh. Just stares at you worried and you push back a few of his curls.

“Hey, look at me,” you tell him and his eyes meet yours. “I’m fine, seriously! Just a bit of stress and nothing the ocean water and you can’t fix.” You kiss his cheek and he finally smiles.

“Can you go see a doctor? For yourself and if not for yourself then for me, I want you to do good at competition and you know they won’t let you compete if you are sick in anyway.” He rubs up and down your sides and you sigh. Hating the doctors but you agree.

“Okay, okay. I’ll make an appointment but they will just tell me I just have butterflies.” You tell him and that’s when he grows a smirk.

“Aw, babe, I didn’t know after all these years I still gave you butterflies!” He teased and you rolled your eyes playfully nudging your body against him. Both leaving the bathroom, your eyes flicker over to the untouched box to tampons that just taunt you one last time before tom shuts the bathroom door. It was possible, you just didn’t want it to be possible just yet.

-

“I should’ve canceled, I should be there!” Tom speaks through the phone. You sat in an empty, cold doctors office waiting for blood results to get back.

Despite Toms over worrying, everything was fine. They couldn’t find anything physically wrong with you and agreed when you mentioned how it was just anxiety and nerves. Yet they still had to run a blood test to make sure it wasn’t anything they missed and couldn’t see with the naked eye.

Meanwhile tom had to be the most dramatic person out there. You always told him if he was not a surfer he would be an actor. It was impressive how every single night before bed he had a new condition to diagnose you with. Some so severe and outrageous you had to remind him that this wasn’t 1600s England and that you didn’t have the plague. That things were just from stress and if it was a stomach bug then let it run through.

Yet he would rant to you nearly every single night about how he’s always loved you and hated that this was the way to go. Always with that you would smack him with a pillow and tell him to go to sleep and with that he would kiss your cheek and hold you tight as he fell asleep.

“Tom, it’s fine. Seriously! They said they couldn’t find anything wrong, you’d be wasting your time to come here. The most you’d get out of this visit is maybe a sticker. Does Tommy want his girlfriend to bring him back a sticker?” You used a baby voice and you could practically hear him going red.

With a scoff he replies, “Ugh, no. What am I like five?” He pauses for a moment. “But what kind do they have? Were you able to check?” He asked in more of a quiet voice and you laugh.

“No clue. But the nurse told me the best thing I could do is just drink some tea and rest. Maybe they have some spiderman stickers or Sofia the first stickers.” You fiddle with the loose thread on your pants. Ending with a joke to calm both yours and Tom's nerves.

With a smirk, Tom Says, “you’ve been drinking some British tea for awhile—“ he jokes and you quickly cut him off.

“Tom!” You say and as if it was a sign, the nurse comes back in with a clipboard and a gentle smile. “Hey, I’ll call you back, the nurse has my results.”

“Wait! Before you go, ask them to check for tapeworms—“ before he could finish you hung up.

“He’s just dramatic.” You laughed a bit and the nurse laughed along before taking a seat across from you. She clicks her pen which makes you nervous for some reason.

“So your blood came back fine, everything is okay. I just have a few little things such as are you on any birth control?” She asked and you shook your head.

“Oh no, um...haven’t been for a while. But my boyfriend and I use protection and we’re safe. We only used planB once and that was a year ago.” You tell her but she looks up at you. Nodding as she purses her lips.

“Condoms only go so far sweetheart. We just have to ask patients who we find to be with a child incase of any birth control so we can remove it immediately, the birth control, I mean, remove that immediately.” With child. You were with a child. Pregnant. Your heart nearly falls out of your chest and the nurse says a few more things but they don’t register.

“Y-You mean there’s a baby inside of me?” You don’t know what color you look right now but you would assume pale, or green with the feeling of vomiting and this time not from slightly uncooked raw leftover chicken.

“Yup, about one month along it looks! We still will want to run more tests and…” she talks more and more but you don’t listen. Your brain foggy, you don’t know if you’re going to pass out or throw up or shit everywhere from how nervous you were. Hell, even all three seemed like an option as she talked. “So I’ll leave you to tell the important news?” She asked. This was apart of her regular day to day, she probably had hundreds of girls like you come in. Clueless and thinking of a stomach bug and then finding out they are pregnant.

“Y-Yeah.” You try to form a smile.

“Perfect, just meet me up at the desk whenever you’re ready. There’s a bathroom down the hall if you are feeling queasy and of course, help yourself to as many waters in the mini fridge in our waiting room. Congratulations!” She says before she turns out and all you hear is the door click shut. The white noise of the light and the taps of your fingernails against the cool metal bed.

You know it was professional and sweet of her to allow you space to call your significant other but you only stare at Tom's contact. Staring at the word ‘Tommy’ with almost all the heart emojis and his contact pictures of him with the biggest smile.

You have no guts to tell him right in the moment, but rather get off of the paper coated bed and grab your things to leave. Setting up a new appointment with your doctor to see more into the baby. Pregnant, with child, before competition. You and Tom were going to have a faimily.

July.

Tom still hadn’t known the news. It had only been a week but the guilt still ate you alive.

You didn’t want to worry or stress him. You yourself still tried to wrap your brain around it. A baby, every breath you took, every bite of food you ate, every drink you swallowed and every step you took there was a baby you shared it with.

You think about how every time tom had wrapped his arms around your waist this week he gently touched over the baby. Kissing your lying lips, you hated yourself for it.

As for competition, your mind nearly forgot. Still getting in the waters everyday with Tom but this time a bit more cautious. Everytime Tom worried for you, you quickly would cover his worry up with either a joke or kisses.

As for the throwing up, morning sickness was something that came in and out. You started hating the smell of bacon tom cooked in the morning but just waved it off. He noticed your decline in caffeine and beers and wines but you just told him the best athletes only had what’s best for their body before performing.

Tom believed all of it. Every single white lie you told—even though you hated yourself for telling them— believed them.

“How ya feeling?” Toms lips met your forehead as you cuddled up on the couch today. Extra tired and almost positive the baby was screaming at you for rest. You cuddled a bowl of popcorn and a water bottle.

“Mmh, just fine.” You give him a smile as his lips come down to meet yours.

Stealing some popcorn from the bowl, he heads over to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

“I’m thinking we do shrimp tonight?” He looked over and you made a face.

“Ew, no.” You shake your head and he gives a furrowed brow look.

“What? You love shrimp!” He responds and you feel yourself growing hot. Hiding deeper in the Blanket and not wanting to show your face.

“Well, I’m just not in the mood for it tonight.” That was another thing, lots and lots of emotions. Luckily Tom had plenty of emotions to match.

“Okay...tuna?” He offers and you shook your head. “Steak?” Once again and no. “Chicken?” No. “Okay, love, you’ve gotta help me out. I know you’re not feeling well but I’m helpless in here.” He says and your eyes start to water. He notices and immediately comes over.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he comes in front of the couch and crouches down to you. “What’s wrong?” He stroked your cheek and you shook your head.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” You sniffle. “Seriously, I’ll help you. I’m thinking pasta.” You smiled and he did too.

“Yeah that’s not too bad.”

And so you two made and ate dinner completely normally. No tears from you, no sickness from you. Tom only talked about the waves out today and how much you would’ve loved it. Now you two spent time washing up.

“You think that one girl with red hair will be there like last year? She was so annoying.” You laughed as you got excited again for competition. Tom grew tense as you mentioned it. You noticed that. How he didn’t talk much about competition anymore. It went from the only thing you two talked about to now nothing. You knew how excited he was, the both of you were but suddenly it was like that excitement was put in a box to rest.

“Yeah...she was.” He kinda laughed but then just washed harder at the dish.

“Everything okay? You’ve kinda stopped talking about competition.” You put down your plate and that's when he took a deep breath.

“It’s nothing, I promise.” He tells you, pressing his lips into a lying smile that you knew.

“Baby, you can tell me anything you know. I’m always here for—“ and with that, he cut you off and told you the words you hated to hear.

“I-I took you out of the competition,” Tom sighed, dropping the dish rag on the counter in defeat. He watches as your face goes from annoyed to shock. Anger builds behind the eyes he find peace in. “It was wrong me me to do so—“

“damn right it was wrong of you to do so!” You slam your hand on the counter. “W-why would you?”

“You were sick! You were so sick for so long and what was I going to let you do? just make yourself worse—“

“it was the stress! I told you it was the—“

The built up ignored tension between you both finally caused him to snap.

“Is your period being late stress too?” His words caused the room to be silent. You take a sharp breath as you stare at him with anger but not at him anymore, at the fear of your new life.

“I’m just late, it’s normal for a woman like me to be rhis stressed and late...” you trailed off and this time he had the red face.

“Bullshit. What happened at that doctors appointment.” He demanded. You didn’t say a word at first which only angered him more. “Damnit (y/n)—“

“I’m pregnant.” You finally cry out and he knew his thoughts could be true, he knew they had to be but the moment those words left your mouth his whole body froze. He went pale with fear and shock, his hand no longer gripping the counter out of anger but out of support in case he passes out. The tears that left your eyes were uncontrollable as you let out a sob, the first sob that snapped tom back into reality.

He didn’t think twice, his arms supportively wrap around you as he tells you sweet nothings to try and calm you and himself.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He mumbled into your hair. You swallowed hard as you pulled back, your face wet with tears and you sniffled. His thumbs come up to wipe away each tear and each trace of mascara.

“Because I wanted to be normal still! I wanted to compete, I wanted to surf! I can’t surf anymore tom, i'm going to be a mom and I won’t have time for surfing.” You sob more and he only pulls you back into his grasp.

“I’m so selfish and stupid to even think to compete but I just want to n-not—“ you can’t even spit it out anymore.

“Who said you can’t surf when you’re a mom?” He moved back to hold your face. You didn’t look at him, he wasn’t going to force you to either. This was your decisions right now, he just wanted to listen.

“When you’re a woman and a mother, everything is for your child. You will have time to surf because you’re a dad but no one wants a mom to do anything but take care of their kid and I’ll love this baby so much, I will, but don’t want to lose myself. I’m young, you’re young and you’re about to be the next big thing.” You punch his shoulder playfully trying to lighten things up. “I—i-W-we’ll—“ you start again and he shakes his head.

“Don’t even say it. Sweetheart, you’re having a baby, our baby. I will make sure you still surf, when it’s safe, Of course. I-I don’t even have the words right now, my heart is racing, feel it.” He placed your hand over his chest to feel his pounding heart. “You will be (y/n) Holland, the infamous surfer that beat Tom Holland twice last year and you will be the mother to our kid. Their badass mom.” He cracks a smile as his hand goes to your stomach.

A shared moment where he only touches the stomach as he learns about it. You look at him softly and he looks at you as if you were the entire world. As if he was a little kid at sea world for the first time, he looks at you with beauty and hope and a hint of thankfulness

“For a minute,” you speak again. “I thought you were completely calm about this.” You chuckle and he shakes his head.

“No, I actually think I’m going to throw up.” He held his breath for a moment before he moved to the trash can and emptied his worried stomach.

This time it was you rubbing his back and wiping his mouth. Maybe you wanted to roll your eyes at the Irony but you just knew he loved you.

Holland. He used the last name Holland on you for the first time you’d ever heard it. He said it so confidently as if you two were already married. Holland. You can get use to that.

-

Day of competition

there was this sort of shock in everyone’s face as they watched you walk in shorts and a tee. Joining the crowds of people instead of getting ready for the waves of water.

This year was no wetsuit with your board, slathering sunscreen on your face as you got ready but rather taking a seat in that sand just like everyone else. Carrying a baby no one knew about except you and Tom and a few friends and family.

Your body was warm with nerves, hundreds of cameras here usually captured the sea, interviewing the surfers afterwards. Although it was not like Hollywood, there was no TMZ or dailymail, but there was enough interest and news casters to tilt their heads for why they infamous (y/n) (y/l/n)—soon to be (y/n) Holland—took a seat with the friends and family. Cheering on from the sand.

“Hey.” Z snaps you out of your constant looking around, how your eyes never focused on one thing.

“Ease up a bit, babes, no one even knows.” She knew, you knew you had to explain to her when you were sitting out. Just as Tom explained to his brothers and the two of you both would explain to his mother after competition. For he knew the women would get so excited she would explode

“Right.” Was all you said as you started clapping with the rest of the crowd when the games begun. It would be a moment for them to get to tom, they always let the younger ones go first, you and Tom were in that fine middle where you had to wait just for the middle of the games.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” Z asked with a hint of excitement to her voice. She kept it quite enough to where it was just you.

“I’m okay with either.” You didn’t ever care much for gender, although a girl would be nice to balance out the male testosterone you’re always around. “A girl would be nice though.” You smile at Z.

She gives a smile back, leans back on the towel as she soaks up the sun. “And Tom?” She asked and you shrugged.

He had talked about almost everything but a boy or girl, when you asked if he cared he told you,

“as long as they have two arms, two legs, a torso, a head, comes out of me with no trouble, then it’s a perfect surfing buddy.” You quote him exactly, smiling at his words from a few nights ago.

When he found out, his hands never left your stomach, even though you reminded him the baby was only the size of a grape. That well...it was just a bunch of cells forming up in the moment that couldn’t exactly kick for it had legs the size of your pinky nail. He still waited, he waited and waited, you didn’t even know what he was waiting for at one point for he would pause between his words at the baby or when he asked you a question he looked down at your stomach as if they would reply for you or before you.

“I know hes nervous as hell, but he’s so excited, I know it. The other day Harrison told me he cried when he told him. Tom, crying.” Z laughed a bit and you did too.

“If you think I’m the emotional one...turn on coco or inside out and see what happens to that man.” You chuckled as you turned your head back to the waters to watch tom with a smile on his face blow a kiss in your direction before getting on his board. Paddling out to the sea you watch him get ready to take the first wave, the crowd goes wild and your hand rests over your stomach.

This time, next year, you would sit on these sands with a smaller version of the two of you.

August.

Being early in your pregnancy but far enough to show was not as glamorous as people made it be.

Your shorts no longer fit, shirts started to get loose at the top and tight at the bottom and for the love of heaven you slept so much. Tom liked the idea of endless naps, somedays you wondered if he was the pregnant one instead of you. As he slouched around, ate just as many snacks as you and started to even complain about some of the same things you did.

Maybe it was the impact your moods had on him or the fact he stopped drinking caffeine since you no longer could have it and he didn’t know what his life was before morning coffee was with you. He was almost the same as you were durning the pregnancy.

“What are you doing?” Putting on a bikini for the first time since you told Tom. For the first time in about a month. You didn’t like the fit much anymore, the bloation you constantly had and the extra weight you now carried in your thighs, arms and breasts made you insecure. The top that used to fit perfect now had you grunting to tie. But you had to wear what you had to wear to get you in the water.

“I’m coming with you to the beach.” You say innocently and he shakes his head.

“You’re not picking up a board, you know that. Besides, the waters have been rough lately, there’s that storm coming in and one hard wave can hit you and I don’t want that to happen.” He exaggerates and you look at him with a dead stare.

“Tom, I haven’t touched the water in over a month, I’m pretty sure my skin cells are changing because of it.” You exaggerate as well and he comes up to you.

“Well, I’m not letting you in the water. It’s too dangerous.” He was serious, at first you thought he was just being dramatic, he was still going to let you swim but he was 100% serious.

“Tom, you’re kidding.” You scoff a bit and he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry darling, I know a lot is happening—“ he starts and you move back.

“The doctor said I am healthy enough to be physically active and I—“ before you could finish he cut you off.

“The doctor said you could do some squats, leg workouts, lift a 5lb weight, that was the type of exercise he said. The waters are too dangerous, please don’t argue with me.” He pleads but your emotions get the best of you. Anger starting to build and your body heating up.

Tom had learnt one thing so far; don’t upset the pregnant women and that’s exactly what he did.

“You’re telling me to not argue with you when you are the one holding me hostage in my own home? God, Tom, I have a life still too! A month ago you said you understood what it was going to take and now you’re treating me the way I specifically asked not to! I’m getting in the water, I haven’t been in the water for months it feels like and that’s all I know—“ your rant continues but Tom isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s looking at your side view in the mirror.

Your bump is showing, the bump he swore he could kinda feel but not see was now showing. Almost like it grew overnight.

“Fuck, Tom! Look at me while I’m—“ you start to yell again but he steps closer.

“Look.” He stares at the mirror and comes closer to your bump.

“Oh my…” you see exactly what he’s seeing. The small curve outwards that is your swollen stomach. Your bump.

“May I?” He asked and your mood went from angry to overfilled with happiness. Your eyes starting to tear ss you nodded.

“Tom, it’s your child too, you can touch.” You told him and he did. Your hand even went to your stomach as you rubbed over the bump that was barely forming.

“It’s like it happened overnight.” He laughed a bit and you did too.

“I swear it wasn’t there last night when I got out of the shower. I swear.” You let a few tears fall and he peppers soft kisses.

“I’m sorry.” He gently stroked at the stomach and you sniffled.

“I’m sorry too. I know you just want what’s best for us but I’m just…” you sniffle some more not being able to finish.

“I know baby, I know.” He gets up and wraps his arms around your back. Pulling you in for a hug for you to cry on his chest. So emotional over everything but he was right there. Right there with you.

“We can call the doctor about you surfing, we can call him right now if you want. But I just can’t lose you.” He gives a smile and you nod as your lips meet with his.

“C-can you order the chicken from the place I like?” You finally regain your composure and he nods.

“Of course, anything else?” He looks down at the stomach and you shake your head.

“No, not for now.” You smile down at the small bump forming. “Wait!” You stop him as he’s leaving to grab the phone. He turns to face a guilty looking you, “and mozzarella sticks.” You rub your stomach and he nods. With a faint smile he goes,

“always.” As that was your constant craving. Leaving you in the room for a moment and coming back to see you dressed back ins sweats and a tee shirt, Tom smiled and gladly cuddled up next to you, rubbing and talking to the bump about the future. Maybe you couldn’t surf, but you had Tom right by your side.

December.

Christmas cookies and sweetly salted popcorn occupied your side as you spent a snowy Christmas in London. No beach, no blazing sun even during the day, Tom took you home where you were now five months pregnant.

Heavily showing and to even think you wanted to go surfing months ago was laughable. You hated getting up to shower somedays for it was too much work.

“Darling, Angel, my pretty girl,” Tom sat next to you nervous with his next words. “I know you’re pregnant but there are only so many Christmas cookies.” He told you and you smacked his shoulder.

“Thomas, she’s pregnant! She’s allowed as many cookies as she wants besides there are more in the oven but pregnant women gets first pick as she is carrying my grandchild.” His mom immediately came to your defense. Taking so much good care of you while you were here, Tom doesn’t even think he got this much affection as a sick child.

“I wasn’t saying it’s a bad thing for her to eat cookies, I just want one!” Tom defended himself and you handed him a cookie and you felt your baby kick.

“See? They don't even want you stealing our cookies. I’m eating for two, I’m eating for your baby. You eat a lot by the way! Remember that summer you went through the whole fridge in a week? Yeah, now I’m eating for a tiny version of that! And myself! It’s hard out here for me and what did you do huh? Take two minutes!” You snatched the cookie back from him and rubbed your stomach. His brothers stifled a laugh and Tom grew red in embarrassment.

“I last longer than two minutes.” He says is a mumble.

Rolling your eyes, You rested your head on Toms shoulder and moved his hand over to the kicking stomach. “She says thank you.” You smile as you take a bite from the cookie.

“A she?” His mom perks up and the rest of the family does.

It was a mistake, you and Tom had a battle of the sexes. It seemed as if you didn’t want to know the gender right before your winter holiday. Or really the gender at all. The gender was available for you guys now but you both didn’t see it as a big deal. The baby’s room would be filled with ocean themed toys and a gentle blue wall Anyways. And besides, whatever they decide to be they would make the perfect surfing buddy. Although it was still fun to think of, You thought a girl and Tom swore a boy.

“No, mum, we still don’t know I promise. (Y/n) is just messing around.” He swore and the family relaxed again.

“He’s right, I am just joking. Tom is probably right with his assumption, thinking it may be a boy. With all this moving and eating, just like Tom.” You poke his cheek and Tom again flusters in embarrassment.

“Hey, I have a fast metabolism.” He told you and you kissed his temple.

“I know baby, I’m just teasing you. My man knows how to stay fit and sexy.” You playfully rub his stomach and suddenly the stifled laughs from the boys turn into disgusted noises.

There was everything to indicate a boy, well, mostly just a gut feeling. Tom's mother described her pregnancy with Tom to you and it was nearly the same. A baby boy, you could see that. You would need another fridge and a lot more paper towels assuming the babe will be like Tom and eat yet spill everything. You liked the idea of a boy. Plus, Tom had been playing a stupid game where he asked the baby questions making it kick for an answer. When Tom asked if it was a boy or girl, it kicked the moment he said boy.

The ding of the kitchen timer went off, more cookies fresh out of the oven and Tom was quick to jump up.

“Let me help m’lady up.” He grabs your hands and you grunt as you stand up. You walk with Tom at your side and once you are alone eating more cookies in the kitchen your hand rubs over your stomach as you feel the baby kick in excitement.

“Off the topic of gender, I think they miss the ocean. They kick so much just when I sit in the bath like they are having fun in the water.” You mention water and you feel a kick. They couldn’t understand, but they could hear and a smile rose to yours and Tom's face.

“Then they’re just like their mama.” He leans in and kisses your cheek.

“Who knows, maybe once we get back I’ll get in the—“ before you can finish your sentence about surfing, a sharp kick to your bladder causes you to hunch over with a pained face. Tom worried as he held you panicked but you got back up with a deep breath.

“Nevermind, little one didn’t like that idea.” You hold onto his arms tightly.

“Everything okay? Just a bladder kick?” He panicked and you just nodded.

“Yup.” Your face scrunches up again. “Just the bladder.” You suddenly have the urge to pee. “Now shoo, I’ve got to pee.” You tell him and he looks at you in confusion.

“You just peed like—“ you give him a look making him think about how he’s finishing his sentence. “Right, my darling.” He moved out of your way to let you go. Snatching one more cookie from the tray, he smiled as he thought how next year at this exact time, you would be holding a little baby.

April.

One week. You were one week late and as any normal pregnant woman would be resting in bed and rubbing over her swollen belly and anticipating the child’s arrival. Although that was not what you were doing.

Against Tom's wishes, you went back to work to see the kids start up their surfing lessons. Although there would be no swimming for you, no waves for you just yet, seeing the kids happy to be there was something that sparked joy to your heart always. Helped ease your nerves and turn them into excitement.

“Mrs. (Y/l/n)-Holland, look what I learnt how to do!” One of the kids calls out. You had a smile for not only did they call you by both yours and Tom's name, but that they had always been excited to show you new things.

“That was amazing Ryder!” You clapped at the boy who did a handstand. He had a big smile with teeth missing. Your hand went over your stomach again, an aching pain that was noting but a false labor.

The doctor said it was fine. Women always experienced this right before birth and just take a deep breath but don’t waste your time rushing to the hospital just for them to send you home.

It was normal to be late and that you had a stressful year so it was okay. The doctor mentioned that you still felt contractions which meant you were close. But when it was Tom, every slight indicator of pain you felt meant a freak out where he rushed around the house to get the baby bag and try and get you in the car when in reality, you just had to pee. 

“T-That’s really cool.” You wince and the boys face goes from excitement to worry. Within the luck, Tom comes jogging from the parking lot with lunch for the two of you. Hoping to get in the water with the kids and keep an eye on you.

“Hey Angel.” He kissed your cheek but noticed your pain. “Everything okay?” He panicked and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, Ryder here was just showing me how he can do a handstand now—“ you can’t even finish as the pain was strong.

“(Y/n)?” Tom needed to be calm, your face scrunched up as you held your swollen stomach. “Darling, Angel, pretty girl, look at me.” He used all the pet names you liked and you looked up at him with worry in your eyes. “I think it’s time for us to meet the little one.” He nods with a trying smile and you feel an even sharper pain.

“Mmh, I can’t do this.” You breath heavily as you hold onto the stomach. “Yes you can, if you can surf a wave that is 12 feet with no wipeout then you can birth our baby.” He promised and also got the little boy who was so excited to show you his new moves a moment ago to run and get another adult.

“Tom, I-I can’t.” You felt yourself tearing up and he shakes his head. Your heart pounding and mind swarming with worried.

“You can, you will. You are the strongest women I—“ before he can start his motivational speech you cry out in pain.

“Get me in the goddamn car!” You cry and he nods and gets you up before anything worse. He rushes to the hospital as quick as he can, holding your hand and trying to not crash as you hold your stomach and scream.

When he gets to the hospital, he’s still in a wetsuit. They take immediate action into getting you into a room where you are laying with your legs up waiting for a doctor. Holding Tom's hand as you cry.

“Uh sir?” The doctor walks in and looks at the man in the wetsuit. “We’re going to have to ask you to put on scrubs...helps prevent any ourside clothing germs getting on the baby...are you wearing anything under that?” She asked and he immediately started unzipping.

“Jesus tom, not here, she wants you to get changed in the bathroom.” You shake your head as you run your hands over your face. In pain but want to laugh at your worried boyfriend for how he was acting in the moment.

“Right! Right!” He quickly changes from the wetsuit into the scrubs. The doctors look at him funny but let it go as you’re clearly in pain and needing the baby to be out.

“You got this love, you’re doing so good—“ he starts again but you don’t even want to hear it.

“was this really worth two minutes! I’m getting my fucking tubes tied!” You scream at him and he flushes a deep shade of red as one of the nurses giggles.

After one more big push you heard the sound of a cry filled the room. For just a second, all the pain you felt went away as you see the body of your baby, baby boy. You both were right, a beautiful little boy.

“A boy.” Tom breathes out in awe.

“Dad you wanna come cut the cord?” He looked at you for approval and you nodded. He cut the cord with shaky hands, couldn’t focus for the life of him as he just stared at the boy. You only got to hold him for a second before he’s taken off to a bath. Tom following them before they bring him back in a bundle of blankets.

“Oh my…” you hold the beautiful boy. His little lips open just a bit to make a sound while his eyes flutter to adjust to the light. “Look at him tom.” You feel yourself cry and Tom does too.

“Wow, look at you.” He touched the boy's cheek who immediately tried to take the finger into his mouth. “You did that.” He tells you as the two of you admire it.

“We did that.” You tell him and he smiles a bit. “Although yeah, it was mostly me.” The boy stares hard at Tom, Tom who was still in just swim trunks and scrubs.

“Hey, I ate a lot with you during this pregnancy. Even had my own morning sickness.” He teased and you only laughed.

The room going silent for a moment. Hearing the little cooes of your boy as you held him. Toms finger tracing over his cheek when you finally spoke, “Caspian.”

Tom had mentioned how he liked the name for a boy, more than once. It had connections to the water and to Europe so the child would have a bit of both. You had to admit to yourself that you liked it but just wanted to stick with a more casual name. But looking at how he looked at you the moment you said that name, you knew it was the one.

“Caspian?” He repeated and you nodded.

“Caspian Holland.” You told.

He smiled as he kissed your forehead. “Holland? Just that?” He asked as well and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah just like that.” You smiled. A perfect moment in the perfect situation was interrupted by a small nurse who held a tee shirt.

“Uh sir?” The nurse looked at the two of you and both of your attentions were caught. “So unfortunately we have to ask you to wear a shirt, we got one from the lost and found for you hoping that it would fit.” The shirt read “I’m not as fun as mom” and Tom's face dropped. A proud smirk rises to your face as you look at Tom who’s flared his nostrils just a bit to show his embarrassment.

“Yeah Tom, put on the shirt.” You encouraged and he looked at you. His eyes telling you that you’re going to regret that but you can’t wait 15 years into the future to tell your son.

Sighing as he took the shirt from the poor nurse and sat back down on the chair in a huff.

“You’re never letting me live this one down are you?” Shaking your head you look back down at the boy,

“no, I don’t think we will.” You brought your dry cracked lips down to the boys forehead, you had no water within the past hour and screaming with crying seemed to make you as dead as possible. “Caspian. Caspian Holland.” He whispers again. “Thank you.” He looked at you and you furrowed your brows.

“For everything.” After months of no surfing, months of pain and aches, instead of saying anything back you looked at him and said

“sushi.” Was all you said and he furrowed his brows.

“W-what?” He questioned.

“I need sushi, please.” You sigh and he smiled. Months of being unable to eat any fish that was all you wanted in the moment.

“One California roll coming up.” He kissed your cheek and then the boy's cheek. Calling in the nurse, sending for a California roll and tuna.

Caspian was sleeping soundly in Tom's arms while you ate and rested. Everything was worth it, from the moment he stepped on a plane one summer to Hawaii he knew it was worth it for he found a family in the end.

June.

Once again the sand was squishing under your toes. Feeling each and every grain as you held your baby boy tightly bundled in blankets against your chest as you walked out to the beach. He was freshly bathed, you and Tom took turns. You were so eager the moment you were cleared to get back in the water after birth that the day the doctor cleared you for physical activity, you did it.

But tonight wasn’t you getting in the water, it was you greeting Tom and telling him to come back inside.

“Dinner is done.” You call out to him as he jogs back to the two of you. The baby boy cooing as he sees the ocean and his fathers dripping wet figure coming towards them.

“Hey, look who’s out.” He immediately leans in and kisses all over the pretty baby boy's face. “My sweet boy is so fresh and clean.”

You and Tom had argued about who he had looked more like,You or Tom. he had Tom's nose for sure and his big brown eyes that you knew were going to be trouble. If you had a hard time saying no to Tom when he batted his lashes and gave a glossy look, it was going to be impossible to say no to your beautiful boy.

“He just took a bath. But it wasn’t the ocean.” You smiled and Tom pressed a kiss to your face too.

“Mmh, did you?” He looks at the boy who was yawning in his mother’s arms. “Want to swim a bit?” He asked and you shook your head.

After birth, Tom did a lot of the work. He loved it too. He claimed you needed rest, in which you did, but you would often find him just sitting in the nursery staring at the baby boy. Telling him stories to sleep and kissing his face. He would let you surf, bathe, sleep, all while he took care of your beloved boy.

“No, I’m so tired I think if I use my legs any longer they will snap.” You give a pout and Tom immediately kisses it away.

Tom started to gather his stuff, the beach towel and the bag he normally carried and the moment he started to pack up your baby boy let out a wail.

Within the two months of his birth, you were able to identify each cry. When he was hungry it was more of a gurgle, when he was sleepy it was more strained and forced, when he craved touch it was a whimper sounding cry and then there was this. He was simply upset something did not go his way. May you or Tom stepped away for a moment, the bottle gone too early, but now it was his father packing up his stuff that makes him scream a cry that makes heads turn.

“What’s the matter bubs?” Tom pouts as he sets the stuff down and comes over to him.

Once the stuff is set down the cries settle just a bit, settle enough until tom takes him out of your arms and presses him up against his body.

Still wet from the surf, you both think the baby liked it. While Tom occupied little Caspian, you picked up the towels and his bag for him and once again the boy let out a wail cry which made you and Tom furrow your brows.

“I-I don’t know what it is. I-I changed him and I bathed him and he was perfectly fine and—“ you start to panic and as you panic you drop the stuff which calms his cries. Tom immediately took notice and grew a smile that made his heart flutter in his chest.

“(Y/n),” he stops you and you look up at him with a worried look as if you’ve done something wrong. “He wants to stay. He wants to stay on the beach.” Tom says in a calm voice and the boy was now only cooing in Tom's arms. He bounced gently but mostly cooed as his daddy smiled at him.

“H-He knows we’re leaving the beach.” You sigh and come over to the boys. Petting your sons head as he relaxes in his fathers arms.

“Like I’ve always said, just like his mama.” Tom smiled up at you and you caught his lips for a kiss. “Well…” you rub your hands on your thigh, wiping off the sand you got stuck all over your hands. “Since Caspian always gets his way, I better bring dinner out here.” You smile as you poke at the sweet boys face and Tom moves and has a serious face.

“(Y/n), no, you can’t just whip out your boob in front of—OW! I’m kidding!” You smacked his arm for the stupid comment he made that at first had you worried.

“I hate you. I’m bringing out the dinner.” You start to walk off and he smiles.

“You love us!” He shouts back.

“Just Caspian! You? Not much you. remember...you’re not as fun as mom!” You call out to him, sending him a wink and he wants to say something back but he holds his tounge.

Looking down at the baby boy he says, “when I teach you how to surf I need you to beat mums ass a few times while you’re out there. Just for her little comments.” Tom spoke to the boy and he cooes. “Atta boy.” With that he plots down on the sand towel.

Setting caspian down on the towel for just a moment so he can strip from his wetsuit and be closer to him. You come back out balancing the plates of food for you and Tom as you seat next to them and eat. Leaning your head on Toms shoulder and kissing at it.

You never knew that one competition, one amateur British boy and one shared basket of fish and chips could lead you to the best moments of your life. Could lead you to the best family you’ve ever had.

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