#i love just posting once in a blue moon and then disappearing again :)

[softjester]

the sillies :)

another one (since i couldn't decide which characters) and references under the cut !

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hey I was reading your X-men posts and I just had an idea and if it is possible for you can you write about reader was with Bucky or Steve or both (your choice) but they break her heart and she finds love again with Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) or Eric Lehnsherr (Michael Fassbender) or both (again your choice) and protect her from Steve/Bucky 😅❤️

hi honey! thank you for requesting this, I hope you like what I've written!

summary - love can be deceiving especially with the wrong person, but it's so much more when it's with the right person.

warning - cheating? angst, word whore is used, insecurities, small violence.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips (deactivated)

Bucky Barnes had been your light since the day The Avengers found you. He had been the one to comfort you when the nightmares would become too much, the one to love you like you’ve never been loved before. So why did it feel like your heart was being ripped out of your chest as you heard him talking to his friends. Why did it feel like the opposite of love?

“I’m so sick of Y/n being attached to me all of the time! And does she really think I love her?! Has she seen herself lately? She’s no Nat or Sharon. She’s just her, plain.” Bucky groans, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his beer. “Oh, did I tell you that I hooked up with a smoking hot babe last night?” He smirks. “Man could she bend.”

You suck in a breath quietly, not wanting to be heard and also struggling to hold back your pain. You walk back to your room, quickly packing your things and disappearing into the night. You knew it was too good to be true, not once in your life had anything ever turned out good. You always seemed to end up with the short end of the stick. You had nowhere to go, a bag in your hand and the moon shining down on you. You felt stupid, you should’ve stayed, found a place before you left. 

You decided to walk a few blocks, taking a random train, wanting to distance yourself. You had turned your phone off and threw it away at the first sight of Bucky calling you. You couldn’t turn back now, too busy with your head down, looking at the ground you manage to bump into someone. Your bag falling from your hands, hitting the floor with a thump. “I–I’m so sorry!” You go to kneel but stop when you notice your bag floating in the air. 

“It’s not safe for a pretty girl to be out this late. You don’t know who you might end up bumping into.” You blink, your eyes connecting with blue. The random man hums, “Ah, Y/n L/n. What are you doing so far from home? Don’t you know you have many people looking for you? Some good, some bad.” 

You shrug, “I don’t care…” You wipe your cheeks, ensuring there are no tear marks on them. “Who are you?” 

The unknown man stares, face like stone. Reminding you so much of the man you just left. “And here I thought I made a reputation for myself.” He studies you, “Erik Lehnsherr, but I also go by Magneto.” 

You nod. “It’s nice to meet you. If you excuse me, I have somewhere to be…” You lie, you recognise the name, you knew of the people he used to hang around before he fully embraced his dark side. You couldn’t have him handing you back out of spite, you didn’t want to go back. Not after what you heard. 

Erik’s hand flies out, gripping your arm softly. “No, you don’t. But I’m not a total monster, I won’t let a pretty girl like you stay out on the streets all night. God knows what will happen.” He begins to pull you along, ignoring your protests. “Be quiet, don’t make me regret being kind.” 

Your mouth falls open as you stand in front of the X-Mansion, beginning to feel uncomfortable as you realise these people may judge you. You weren’t a mutant, you were a freak, an unloved freak. “I–I can’t stay here!”

“Why not?” Erik looks down at you, “Oh, are you one of those vampires that need inviting in?”

You look up at him with your head tilted, “Huh? What… No. I just, these people are… and I’m me… Plain…” You begin to play with your fingers.

“Hmm, whoever said that should get their eyes checked. Now come. I’m sure Charles is awaiting our arrival.” Instead of dragging you by the arm, he moves his hand and opens it, waiting for you to slip yours into his. 

Months had passed since you had bumped into Erik, Charles had accepted you into their family, proving to you that you were one of them. Erik had come and gone many of times since he had taken you here, and each time you began to dread when he had to leave again. Your relationship with him was okay, it had begun quite stiff and slowly blossomed into a friendship, the only issue is you fell for him. But you knew you weren’t good enough for a man like Erik, Bucky had proved that. 

Today you were excited though, Erik was coming back, and you had decided to wear your favourite dress, remembering the first time you had worn it, and he couldn’t stop staring at it. Deep down your insecurities were saying it’s because he hated the dress and was wondering how someone like you could ruin a pretty piece of clothing by wearing it, but another part of you had hoped it was the opposite, that he liked your dress.

You walk out of your room, smoothing out your dress as you begin to head to the door where you hear voices. A smile forms on your face, ready to see Erik again. You enter the room and your smile falls, he had finally found you. You didn’t want to face him, he was the reason you didn’t think you were good enough anymore. 

‘Y/n, I don’t want you to think I invited him, I tried to stop him, but I cannot do much unless I control someone’s mind and you understand why I didn’t, right?’ Charles speaks into your mind, your eyes connect with his and you nod.

“This is where you’ve been this whole time?! Do you know how worried we were?! How could you be so stupid!!” Bucky growls, moving closer. It’s as though you up and leaving him had struck a nerve, but you don’t know why, he didn’t love you like you did him. 

You hated yourself in this moment, you wanted to stand up for yourself and show him that his words didn’t hurt, but everything was coming back, and you couldn’t move or speak. “I–I…” 

“Take one step closer to her and I’ll shove that arm of yours down your throat.” A voice speaks from behind you, Erik steps out from the shadows, moving closer to you. His hand rests on your lower back, calming you down when you didn’t even know you needed to be calm. 

Bucky spins his arm, glaring. “Who are you?” His eyes fall to where Erik’s hand rests before he looks at you. “Is this why you ran off? Because you’re a whore?” Bucky steps forward, ignoring Erik’s warning causing Bucky to let out a cry of pain as his arm begins to get crushed.

“I warned you to not step closer to her. Yet you ignored that and insulted her.” He moves in front of you, pulling you to stay behind him. “Charles may have not wanted to control your mind because he’s a good guy, but I’m not.” With a flick of his hand, Bucky rises and gets thrown through the door. Erik stalks forward and glares at him. “If you ever come near Y/n again, I will kill you.” He makes sure to watch Bucky leave before he turns and walks toward you before you can even open your mouth to thank him, he grips the sides of your face and pulls you in, bringing you into a passionate kiss. 

Was this what love felt like?

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[kimsohn]

insignificance

pairing . eric x gn! reader about . 2k words, fluff (suggestive) warnings . 16+ cause there is heavy making out at the end, drinking wine, mentions of murder but it's all jokes!!

synopsis . it takes one dinner and a late-night drive for you to fall in love with your fiancé all over again. note . the inspo for this fic was @sohnric's plot twist make-out scene (and this pic) i hope i did it justice 💗 i wrote this on a whim and am posting this at 1am so please excuse me for this monstrosity 😭 tysm @juyeonszn and @mars101 for cheering me on YUPP tagging . @stealanity @invuwrld @gfksn (+ bar)

The background noise of the waiters shuffling around fades away as your two glasses clink together. Vivaldi’s Spring is playing in the background, a piece you’ve only heard once in a blue moon at an orchestra concert. Eric seems to have experienced differently, though, judging by the taps of his dress-shoe-covered foot beneath the table and the twinkle in his eyes.

“Cheers,” you whisper, giddy with excitement.

“Cheers, baby,” Eric whispers back, the corners of his mouth lifting in a grin.

The wine in your glass swishes as you take a tentative sip. It’s sweet and fruity, and you’ve already forgotten the name Eric rattled off to the waiter as if expensive drinks were second nature to him. They probably were second nature to the Sohn family, considering the elegance of this fancy restaurant, the outfit he bought that now adorns you, and the sparkling ring that sits on your finger.

You set the glass down next to you, already a little overwhelmed with the elegance of this atmosphere. You knew you married rich, but it never particularly occurred to you just how rich your fiancé is. In fact, you feel a little out of place sitting in a chair that costs half of your monthly paycheck and staring at a menu that you once never would’ve been able to. Despite already being engaged to the love of your life, you’re not sure you’ll ever find a way to fit into the intricate setting that the Sohns have grown up in.

“What’s wrong?” Eric asks, seeing the glimmer in your eyes dissipate with your overthinking.

He reaches across the table to take your hands in his, running his thumb over your ring. He traces the lines of it, following the swirl pattern as if he were seeing it for the first time. As if he didn’t spend hours agonizing over what design to gift you, so sure that you would reject him if it wasn’t up to your liking.

(You would’ve said yes even if he proposed to you with a lollipop.)

“I feel like I don’t belong here,” you admit, your head hanging low as the embarrassment clouds your features.

He intertwines his fingers with yours, lacing them tightly. Eric is all too knowing of the nagging thoughts in your brain, telling you you’re undeserving of the man in front of you and the wealth that comes along with it. However, you’ve hit the jackpot in the fact that Eric is always ready to argue back with the devil on your shoulder, even if it’s three in the morning and you’re delirious from sleep or if you’re a little bit too tipsy and crying in his lap. Eric, for lack of better words, is always there for you. Even now, as he holds your hands and stares into your eyes as if you’re the only person in the universe, he is here for you.

“I’m going to eat that little voice in your head so it goes away,” he responds a moment later with finality, extremely serious.

The statement is so absurd and unexpected that it has you giggling, and you grip Eric’s fingers tighter as you lean forward and can’t find it in you to stop. All your previous tension disappears when you look into Eric’s eyes, filled with mirth and kindness.

“You’re crazy,” you voice through laughter, reaching for the wine glass to calm your jumbling nerves.

Eric just shakes his head, unable to hold back a smile that reflects your current predicament.

“Crazy for you, babe. Now stop worrying your pretty little head and enjoy your food, okay?”

And enjoy the food you do. The three-course meal followed by dessert has you clutching your stomach after, full and bloated from the amount of delicious food you’ve consumed. You can’t even bring yourself to take a couple more bites of the black forest delicacy that sits on your plate, but luckily, you have the universe to thank for the takeout box that now rests in Eric’s left hand.

His other hand holds the car keys, and as he clicks the unlock button, the Orange Corvette lights up from across the parking garage. Its bright color is exactly reminiscent of the man standing next to you, exuberant and dashing. You felt like a little kid the first time he picked you up in his car, extremely impressed with the interior neon lights he showed off to you in the earlier stages of your relationship. Now, as his fiancé, the car is something comfortable to you, having seen it too many times to count by this point. 

He helps you into the front seat before getting in beside you, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the back of your headrest as he backs the car out. You’ll never admit this to him, but the view of him looking back and inching the car out is devilishly handsome to you, and you have to fight the warmth that rises to your cheeks.

Once he repositions the vehicle and drives forward, the hand that’s behind you now moves to your thigh. The shiny watch on his wrist glints in the moonlight, and he absentmindedly draws circles on your clothed skin to the beat of the song. It doesn’t help that it’s an R&B track, so every movement of his finger is slow and torturous, and every trace ignites fire against the cloth. 

“Eric,” you start, watching as he pulls to a stop before the red light.

“Hm?” he responds, turning his head to face you.

You notice that he’s wearing a singular stud earring on his right ear. You can only pray that you’ll find some strength to survive the rest of this car ride because as soon as it’s over, you won’t let him see the light of day.

“How much longer?” you ask tentatively, like a little kid squirming in their seat.

He rolls his eyes, turning back to focus on the road. It doesn’t help though, because his side profile is just as alluring as his front.

“Couple more minutes, baby.”

True to his word, he exits the main road a few minutes later, driving up a dirt path unfamiliar to you. The road is slightly bumpy, and you’re a little tipsy from the wine so you shift around quite frequently, but Eric’s unwavering, strong grip on your thigh keeps you grounded. The more you stare at his hand, the more sexy you find his hand pressed against the silk you’re wearing.

You’re reconsidering your decision to spend the rest of your life with this ridiculously hot man when he pulls into a forest clearing.

“Are you going to murder me, Eric Sohn?” you tease as he parks the car, swiftly maneuvering the wheel.

You move to step out once he’s done, but he’s faster than you, and he opens the car door before you can even reach for the handle.

“If I wanted to murder you,” he says, holding your arm as you step out, “I would’ve already done so, my love.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you have little to be annoyed about as you survey your surroundings. The dark forest around you is a contrast to the vividness of the car, but nothing seems brighter than Eric’s smile at the moment and the twinkling stars around you.

Eric leads you to a clearing, his hand pressed against the small of your back. You peer over, fascinated at the realization that you can see the whole city from here. The twinkling lights of the bustling city below you are something of a dream, and as you look towards Eric, you can see the stars reflected in his eyes.

Minutes like these, where you’re not surrounded by extravagance, are when you truly feel your connection with Eric. Raw, unearthed, and simply pure, you feel like you’re stripped of all labels. You both are just insignificant specks in the universe, and he is truly just some guy to you in this moment, but you know wholeheartedly that this very guy is the one you truly love. You would never have it any other way.

The grin on Eric’s face is infectious as you face him with one of your own. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, clasping them together as his arms find their way around your waist. 

“Found this place the other day,” he explains as if he could hear your thoughts, “I kinda regret not proposing to you here.”

“Don’t lie,” you mutter, knowing that he definitely does not regret whisking you away to his private condo in the mountains just to put a ring on your finger.

He laughs, pressing his forehead against yours. The cicadas chirp around you, and all is silent when he calms down except for your two breaths in unison. His gaze circulates from your eyes to your lips and then back to your eyes, and whatever triangle method he’s using is working because one second later, you lean in to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

He tastes like strawberries, and you smile against his lips remembering that you’d gifted him strawberry lip balm two days ago. Your man, your sexy, diligent man, following your orders to take care of his lips stirs butterflies in your stomach. The fact that you hold some kind of power over the Sohn family’s heir makes you feel a little dizzy, but your only response is to pull Eric closer and kiss him harder.

The sweetness of both the strawberry scent and the kiss fade as he presses back with just as fervor, adjusting his arms around you to pull you in tighter. The space between you feels unbearable, and despite the proximity between you two, the gap is still too big for your liking. You need him viscerally, every part of him on you as if the very concept of distance is poisonous and Eric is your antidote.

“Baby,” he whispers, pulling back with shallow breaths, “the car.”

You end up in the front seat of his car, the seat tilted backward and you in Eric’s lap. One of his knees holds you in place against your back, and his hands rest on your waist. The position is far too intimate that anyone walking by will know exactly what’s going on. Your kisses have turned heady, mirroring the darkness in his eyes and the way you clutch onto the front of his black shirt. You work on unbuttoning his shirt, but Eric distracts you with his tongue swiping across your lips and the way he softly bites when you protest. By some miracle, you finish moments later, and you run your hands down his skin. He shivers, and everything feels like pure electricity between you two the way his fingers press into your sides tighter. 

(It will bruise tomorrow, but you don’t care. You’ll simply shrug on a shirt and try to fight a blush as Eric stares at you from the bed shirtless, a knowing grin on his face.)

His kisses trail down your lips, your cheeks, and your neck, finally finding a home in your collarbone, biting and sucking as if it was his favorite pastime. It probably is, with the way he kisses down your shoulder and tugs the strap of clothing down.

Your fingers trace his collarbone, and you hold his head in your hands as he looks up at you. He’s needy and restless, but he’ll always listen to you when you have something to say.

You may be an insignificant speck in the world, but in Eric’s eyes, you’re the whole universe.

“I love you,” you whisper.

It’s all you have to say before he flips you around, pressing you into the dip of the seat as he slides your clothing down. The air conditioning of the car and the ambient music bring goosebumps to your now exposed skin, but Eric makes everything disappear by resuming his previous ministrations.

He looks into your eyes before pressing a kiss right above your heart. It beats against your chest, heavy, and Eric knows it’s only for him. It will always be only for him.

“I love you too,” he whispers back, smiling against your skin.

“Forever and always.”

[bsydelver]

-MHA (1-A) as nowadays teenagers- social media mostly (stereotypes).

PT.1- the boys.

—>part 2 (the girls)

inspired by those “mha as American high schoolers tiktoks.”

The first section of this post has the ones I wanted to emphasize on the most then the second section will be just mentions of the boys that I found would be basic in my opinion or I couldn’t think about the concept of them being like the teenagers we have at this time,

Izuku:

This guy is active on social media 24/7.

He LOVES sending streaks on snap of everything happening, he finished studying? He is sending a streak announcing it; he was reading? He is sending a streak announcing it; he was on a call? He is sending a streak announcing it; you get the point.

His bitmoji looks like a carbon copy of him, he does not mess around when it comes to it.

The type of person to have a million different accounts on one platform: One is his main, One is his spam, One is for close friends, one for edits, etc. If you ask him for his handle or username he’ll say “which account?” or give you a specific one depending on who you are.

If he gets left on opened he deletes the message even for him only to avoid feeling embarrassed.

His music taste just depends on tiktok for the most part as he listens to audios there all the time for his edits.

I like to think that All might (or the pro-heroes in general) would be a professional player (sports) of some sort in this universe so Izuku would edit him like how people edit football/American soccer and basketball players.

He’s known in the editing community on tiktok and he loves the mutuals concept.

Not a lot of people he knows are aware of his editing hobby only Kirishima since they share it (Kiri does edits of crimson riot)— they would have that RMA fan and Barca fan friendship dynamic. (trust)

Trains the sport All Might is a professional in (and he is determined to be as good as All Might).

Part of the sassy men apocalypse.

Plays Roblox once in a blue moon and only for his friends.

Despite his extremely high screen time: he is actually smart academically.

If you’re playing a match with him (in teams, and sports that include, balls, passing, dribbling, etc.) and you have the ball, he will beg you to pass for him to shoot, but he still misses.

He likes the downtown boy style because he thinks it’s comfortable but Inko hates it.

He isn’t popular but he is still known,

Katsuki:

He barely has any social media platforms but for the ones he does have: it’s always just some private account that he only accepts people he knows on.

He sends his daily streaks and it’s always just the classic “S” drawn poorly on a black screen.

He only uses his story to repost other stories he was mentioned in.

His profile picture on every platform is a picture one of his friends took of him hiding his face using his hand, if it isn’t that photo: he just makes it a black screen.

He would send a tiktok or two every few months to a friend and then disappear again.

His main social media app is snapchat: that is what he uses for texting, calls and whatever other business he wants to do.

His snapscore is over 100k.

“wyll” warrior: if yk, yk.

Kirishima’s gym bro but never talks about it, it’s kiri who can’t help but bring it up.

Despite his somewhat “cold” personality, this mf is the definition of scared of girls: not even in the male manipulator way, he is just scared of them or avoids them.

He just wears plain shirts and hoodies, he doesn’t dedicate his clothes to a specific category: just wears what he wants.

Just expect the unexpected from him.

He is the captain of at least one sports team in his school.

He never studies (according to him) yet gets the highest marks somehow and everyone admires him for it.

Shoto:

He does not use social media at all, nearest thing he has to that is his phone number that’s about it.

Just uses his phone to call people or message them on imessage.

He does not get any joke or reference you tell him that comes from tiktok (referring to brainrot) or any other social media app for that matter unless you explain it to him.

He does backhanded jokes though that are actually hilarious.

Wears whatever he finds in his wardrobe, he does not have a specific clothing style.

His texts are as dry as a dessert.

He’s just there and everyone is here for it.

He’s the “non-chalant” guy every girl on tiktok posts about, and since he is canonically attractive: he is the topic of a lot of girl gossip sessions.

He is like an old man when it comes to phones.

He is very dedicated when it comes to sports, he will not hesitate to continue even when he is injured.

He likes listening to lo-fi and calming music in general: it helps him focus.

Him are Iida are study buddies, nobody can tell me otherwise.

He’s the guy you go to for notes if you missed any during class.

Koda:

He uses his social media accounts for photography.

He also tries to raise awareness about current problems in the world using his platforms.

He surprisingly has a lot of followers due to his insane skills.

He is the quiet guy who everyone knows in terms of appearance but nobody would actually remember him on a name basis except if they are friends with him.

Does not participate in school matches or anything sports related in general.

His mom packs him his lunch and honestly nobody says anything because he isn’t too loud about it either.

He is a really wholesome guy and anyone who knows him loves that for him.

He was raised right and has manners.

He is a vegan but not one of those crazy ones, he just does it for himself and he might not agree with the choice of eating meat but he won’t be an ass to you for it.

He’s the hotspot guy of the class, he always has mobile data so he could post wherever and whenever he’d like, people always borrow it from him and he has no problem whatsoever.

He does not have any unresolved problems with anyone whatsoever.

Everyone from school who has social media follows his accounts and he is just mutuals with people he probably never talked to before in person.

He loves posting bird chirping audios and videos and he made a couple audios that actually got used by a ton of people.

He is average academically and none of the teachers have any concerns when it comes to him.

He wears anything as long as it isn’t made out of fur, leather or anything that comes from an animal.

Ejiro:

His parents despise his phone, he is always on it no matter what in their eyes.

He will spam you with tiktoks no matter who you are, he doesn’t even expect a reply (but if you do he appreciates it) he just likes sharing videos.

EVERYONE knows about his edit account compared to Izuku, he’s the editor of the class.

He does not mess around when it comes to protein and nutrition.

He sends gym and training snap streaks.

If he has a crush, he will try to hint it using videos on social media and he will send you cute tiktoks saying he appreciates you and stuff.

He makes videos of him reaching his lifting PRs in the gym and always has phonk music in the background.

He has a highlight on instagram for only motivational quotes he posts weekly on his story.

All of his bios have a Crimson Riot quote in them.

He’s a great athlete and has respect for you even if you’re on the opposing team.

He is the captain of one sports team as well and all of his teammates love him.

He uses “🤨” and “AYOOOO” while texting.

He’s the type of guy to say “YAYAYAYAY” on text unironically.

if he isn’t on his phone, he is playing Fortnite or minecraft with his friends (mostly Denki) and he loves it.

He is the type to scream in games and use curse words even in a friendly way.

He spams the repost button on tiktok and the add to story button, it is an addiction at this point.

He has a girl best friend (Mina) and he is open about it in every way possible.

He is pretty chill with everyone: boy or girl, no girl gets the feeling that he has a crush on her unless he visibly shows it and he’s the annoying type of guy friend who’s sarcastically rude to you but knows his limits.

If you’re a girl and have a crush on his friend, you wouldn’t be able to help but tell him and you can actually trust him with it.

He hates being on bad terms with anybody and just wants to be cool with everyone.

He is just your average teen boy.

He struggles academically and he knows the reason and has always tried to improve but he feels like he can’t.

Denki:

He is scrolling on tiktok or instagram reels every single second of the day that is if he isn’t playing video games.

Can’t keep a snapstreak for the life of him.

Will respond to every tiktok you send regardless if you sent 1 or 1000 and he enjoys it.

Brainrot is the best thing that has ever happened to him.

He references brainrot in real life every time he gets the chance and he is just known for that, it’s like a staple for him.

He is the “no homo” and “it doesn’t count if we’re wearing socks” type of guy and he pairs it with Kiri’s “AYOOO”s.

Only gets a long with one girl (Jirou) cause he can’t get a long with any other or at least became close with them in contrast to Ejiro.

He loves playing fortnite with Ejiro and Sero and also he is always the host of minecraft worlds and will not forgive you if you kill his wolf/dog.

He begs Izuku and Jirou to play Roblox with him sometimes.

He has a pet and posts stories of them playing together and whatever pet it is loves attacking Denki for no reason.

He is his own person in someway and isn’t the type of guy to depend on someone for a personality but he will depend on the new social media brainrot trend for it.

This man should not be going near a ball or anything sport-related in general, because he’s ass.

Interacts with every post his friends publish and he’s always saying something in the comments.

He loves “homeless-looking” fits.

He is horrible when it comes to academics and he does not even try to improve because he finds no point.

Sero:

Sero has a surprisingly healthy screen time (only during school days though).

He is always open to playing games with the other guys and if he doesn’t have the game, he will download it even if they will only play it once.

He will watch every tiktok his friends send but will only do short replies because he’s too lazy.

He ADORES movie nights and Spiderman.

All of his profile pictures are group pics of him and his friends.

He is always posting food pictures anywhere in general, he loves the look of it.

He always looks forward to Denki’s replies.

Whenever his friends say something off guard to him: his smile fades or he does the “🤨” face and it just became a running joke in the friend group.

He gets matching socks with his friends because he saw a tiktok trend about it.

He tries to lecture his friends but does the same mistake at the end and just laughs about it.

He reposts news on his instagram stories just to mock it or say something critical at least once a week.

He laughs really loud during class and Denki does NOT help in preventing it at all.

He wears whatever one of his friends is wearing just to match with them because he usually doesn’t feel like choosing a complete outfit.

Has an overwhelming fear of parent-teacher conferences.

He swears that he tries his hardest in studying but he always gets marks as bad as Denki’s and he just accepted it.

Tenya:

In contrast to what a lot of people believe, I think Tenya would actually have at least one social media platform.

He wouldn’t use social media like his other classmates use it, but rather to help him share announcements quicker to the others since most of them are more active there.

He’d only have outdated minigames on his phone because he used to play with his older brother but other than that, he has nothing.

He offered free tutoring but Ochako convinced him that it would be a good idea to charge at least 1 bucks or something just so he can get a profit out of it.

He loves being organized and unironically has pinterest just to organize his thoughts there and whenever he mentions it, his classmates are shocked.

He hates when anyone sends a tiktok link or something similar to the main class groups because he thinks it’s out of place and bad.

Everyone comes to him for college recommendations.

People think he’d be a teachers’ pet but the teachers aren’t actually that fond of him or just treat him like any other and he actually appreciates that.

He scolds his friends for being too active on social media and that it can affect them in the future not only due to lack of concentration but also due to potential bad digital footprint.

He takes the internet really seriously and avoids anything harmful to keep his digital footprint as clean as possible.

Some of his friends ask him to set up a screen-time system on their devices because they trust him the most with it.

Straight A student and is in all of the advanced classes.

Apologies to:

Aayoma

Tokoyami (💔)

Shoji

Sato

Ojiro

Mineta (not really)

[katerinaaqu]

The Death of Odysseus (Part 3 + Afternote)

Oh boy oh boy oh boy! Apparently I couldn't stop myself! Today is the last blue moon and man I just felt like I HAD to post part 3 today for some reason! After Part 1 and Part 2 here's the third and final part! This is my longest chapter still from this series! Please follow me to the trip of Odysseus in the underworld for his ordeals are about to end... This is long I know! But I would love to hear your thoughts on this at to my other 2 parts! ^_^ Forgive me if this is too tiring!

Diomedes’s footsteps were the only things he could hear as they entered to the new section of the Underworld. Along the way one by one the souls accompanying them had to stop. It was as if their journey along with him for now was reflecting their arduous trip. Now he was alone once more, passing by other shades that seemed to be matching his age. His feet felt tired and at the same time they weren’t. What a weird sensation!

“Diomedes…” he whispered, “Can we stop for a second? I need to catch my breath”

Diomedes looked at him over his large shoulder.

“Soon you will. Endure for a little longer, my friend”

“I feel like…I can’t breathe…!” Odysseus rasped out

It was as if some huge weight was on his chest. It was as if every time the soul of one of his comrades was disappearing or promising he would meet him later after his journey was done, he was losing a part of himself. It was as if he was feeling the losses again and again but this time it was crushing him like the pressure of a mountain. It was suffocating him. His body, old from time and hardships, even if he was shadow now, was feeling heavy, unable to move as if he was aging even further during his trip. He felt like breathing in the thick mist of water instead of air as he walked…as if every breath was tightening his chest… Diomedes looked at him with a soft smile of compassion.

“Courage! Just a bit further we can stop…I promise…”

“Help me…! Please…!” Odysseus rasped out, voice trembling

Once more he felt the consequences of the lack of tears to his new form. He could not release himself from pain through tears anymore; he could feel the sadness, the burning down his throat and his voice cracking…but his eyes would never water. A warm, shining hand was placed before him.

“Come on, my friend, courage! We’re almost there”

Odysseus accepted Diomedes’s strong arm with his wrinkled, shaking hand. Being supported by his old friend and now protector-god, Odysseus slowly moved forward. For one second his memory ran back to the last interaction he had with his son; how his son was supporting him in a similar manner towards his bed. Oh, he missed him so much! His home he would never see again…the smell of the sea he would never sniff again… The softness of a bed he would never feel again… Ithaca he would never experience again… Now under the crushing weight of his journey pressing on his chest Odysseus remembered Aeaea…and Ogygia…the sweet tortures and temptations of his life… Both opportunities he had to escape this pain; this torment. He had the chance to remain to the world of the living…like a god…like Diomedes was supporting him steadfast right now… He wouldn’t have experienced this pain; this sadness and nostalgia…this solitude…this endless up and down of emotions between happiness and sadness, hope and despair that was about to drive him insane. So many dead men had drunk from the river of Lithe to escape this. Odysseus had chosen, once more, the hard way. He had chosen this…just like back then he chose his wife and the love of his land.

“Oh how insignificant that would seem to the eyes of those goddesses!” he thought in woe, “Woe is you, they would say, you experience that pain now…only to see your wife and home for as many years as you were separated from them! What was the point? Was it worth it? That’s what they would say to me if they saw me now…!”

And yet Odysseus, feeling the warmth of Diomedes by his side…remembering the delight and happiness to see his comrades again…No, this pain was worth it! The senseless existence or immortal life would demand a high price to pay! He nearly tripped at a stone but Diomedes was there to hold him.

“Courage, my friend!” he encouraged him once more, “We are almost there.”

Every step he took seemed like a decade; like a decade of torture falling upon him. But yet again Odysseus endured. He had to. They reached a plateau and finally Diomedes stopped. He nodded to Odysseus and helped him sit upon a stone. Odysseus nearly collapsed. He would have been soaked in sweat if he were a human. He was breathing heavily; painfully. Diomedes patted him on the back.

“I can’t…!” Odysseus finally whispered pleadingly, “I can’t anymore, Diomedes! I can’t…go any further…!”

“Now, now…” Diomedes whispered with a compassionate smile, “Don’t give up now…you must keep going”

“I can’t! Please…spare me…! Mercy, Diomedes…! Please…leave me here…I don’t have any more strength to go on…”

“You are almost there, Odysseus” Diomedes repeated softly and yet firmly, “Do not give up. The reward at the end is always sweet for those who endure”

Odysseus only pleadingly looked at him. Suddenly he felt older than before. As if he aged over a thousand years instead of 80… He gritted his teeth and nodded. Struggled to his feet; although he had to be assisted by Diomedes again in order to fully stand. How long had he been to be traveling? Was it a day? A year? A decade? Was it a century? He looked up. He almost felt as if snow was falling on him. Perhaps it wasn’t snow but ash flakes from the fires of Troy… He raised his hand in the air as if trying to catch them. He gathered it back to his throbbing chest.

“Why…does it hurt so much…?” he managed to whisper, “Is it normal to be this painful?”

“The journey reflects a life…” Diomedes whispered, “The pain and the joy one experiences are up to them…”

“Woe is me…!” Odysseus exasperated, “How much pain…! So much sorrow…so much anger and hatred…! Can it stop, Diomedes? Will it ever stop…?”

Diomedes was silent. He couldn’t respond and Odysseus knew it. Diomedes didn’t experience this trip himself when he entered Elysium and godhood.  He was not Hades to know. How much pain would he experience after so many years of torment?

“Gods…!” he whispered, “Oh, gods! Please release me…even for a little while! My heart cannot bear it! Please make it stop, Diomedes…! Make it stop…!”

“You’re getting there, Odysseus…” Diomedes once more encouraged, “Do not lose heart now! You have but a few stops left… Goddess Athena promised me. She has your back… Take strength from her, my old friend! I beg of you…”

Moaning in pain and anguish Odysseus forced his pace, grasping on Diomedes as hard as he could, as if he had physical nails to dig into his now immortal flesh. For one more time…Odysseus endured…

*

The journey was moving slowly as he finally managed to breathe with some ease. It took a bit further and exactly as Diomedes had promised it became somehow bearable. He even managed to walk on his own now. His old friend was always there watching his step. However as he looked around he thought he recognized shades that passed by him, almost as if completely ignoring him. Oh how much he wished he had a walking stick with him! Or at least the oar that he was carrying for his redemption journey! His back felt almost like breaking. It was as if he was walking forever. He stood for a second looking around at the open area. It wasn’t as cramped with souls as the other one he passed from before.

“Where are we, Diomedes?” he asked, “What part of Hades is this?”

“This is the area of the kings and nobles” Diomedes explained.

Odysseus scoffed.

“Are you telling me that this old, beaten body of mine belongs here?”

“Perhaps”

“Look who’s here!”

That familiar voice he hadn’t heard in decades made him turn. He recognized the blonde long hair of Achilles, walking side by side to the brown-haired and gray-eyed Patroclus and their companion Antilochus. Achilles was having his arms folded against his chest as he perceived him. He was as youthful as always; a man who lost his life so early.

“Achilles!” Odysseus breathed out

The man Fast in Feet smiled.

“We began to think that the gods of death had forgotten about you!”

“I told you he would potentially outlive us all, Achilles” Patroclus said softly

“Indeed” Achilles agreed, “Someone who came down here even alive would undoubtedly be too stubborn to die!”

“He always was”

Odysseus turned around to see that tall man. He recognized his wavy locks and his well-kept beard; those large brown eyes.

“Agamemnon!”

He half-staggered to the direction of his and the two men embraced. Odysseus remembered that tall man who used to be one head taller than what he was. Now that he had partially shrunk with age, he seemed even taller.

“Nice to see you again, old friend” Agamemnon whispered, “At least one of us got to make it to old age! Look at you! Never expected to see the great Odysseus looking worse than Nestor!”

Odysseus chuckled softly in his self-pity.

“Yeah, I grew old alright…I bet I look awful right now. I avoided the mirrors for a long time before this!”

They chuckled a bit. Odysseus held his stomach that still felt painful with every breath but it was getting better. As he scanned the place he noticed more kings and queens arriving, it almost felt like a welcoming party. He recognized many figures he had only heard from stories like Minus, Perseus and Jason the Argonaut but he also saw so many known figures; people he never thought he would see again.

“Nestor!” he called to the elderly figure that approached him

Oh, how strange! He looked so much younger than him now! He had heard of Nestor’s death had occurred a little after Telemachus had come back to Ithaca. Peisistratus, the youngest son that remained a loyal friend and companion to his son had brought the terrible news. He had outlived Nestor by a decade in years! How different they looked now as they embraced and cried in their souls (for neither could shed tears). How fragile Odysseus felt! And yet he perceived his old friend, whom he hadn’t seen ever since Troy!

“Look at us!” he whispered in emotion, “You were old at Troy…I was barely entering threshold of old age…and now…look at us!”

“What a weird thing fate is, Odysseus…” Nestor whispered back

The kings were gathered, greeting him like an old friend. He remembered so many of them from Troy. It almost felt like they never left that camp at the foot of the holy city. People were greeting him, patting his back. Odysseus was smiling in emotion; yes, it was as if he never left, as if he was still a young ambitious man, barely to the threshold of old age instead of dead, dragging an old body and old memories all the way into the underworld!

“Is the celebrity of the day available to see an old friend?”

That soft voice made Odysseus shine inside. He saw that tall man; with the fair skin and hair; hair that was once reddish blonde, almost platinum, now it was white like snow. The body he remembered so strong and sturdy at Troy even if still vigorous bore the samples of old age. The eyes that had the color of honey and oil were looking at him compassionately like always. By his side the beautiful Helen kissed by the sun at her hair like golden Aphrodite. She herself despite aged like every mortal would have aged she could pass at least a decade younger than the age she had during her passing. She was stunningly beautiful as ever, holding affectionately the arm of the man with whom she shared her life with. There was no doubt who that man was that filled his soul with delight.

“Menelaus! Gods! Menelaus!”

He didn’t care who watched as he clumsily and tiredly stumbled close to his friend who met him mid-way and they embraced tightly.

“Now…you are the one who must support me…” Odysseus whispered

“I got you, old friend…I do…” Menelaus whispered

Odysseus remembered when they met before he continued his redemption trip. Menelaus was suffering from his health; years and sorrows had taken their toll on him. When Helen had sent a letter for his passing to Ithaca, for which he was informed after his return from the mainland, Odysseus had cried in silence for days. He had mourned Menelaus; the only man that truly believed to the very end of his wellbeing, the only man that shared his guilt and pain. How many things had commenced in the name of their loves! Odysseus who secretly invented the Oath of Tyndareus to marry Penelope, Menelaus called onto the oath and started the war of Troy; the bloody war that cost the lives of thousands. They had agreed reluctantly to sacrifices of two young maidens; one saved one doomed. They had wandered, they had shipwrecked and they had felt the pain…and here they were. Menelaus passing at the threshold of old age…Odysseus to the end of it… Odysseus held Menelaus’s cheeks with his hands, as if to observe his more youthful appearance.

“How…?” he whispered emotionally, “How could you take the trip so far…?”

The pain he felt…only Menelaus could understand! Only Menelaus could give him the answer he sought!

“H-How…how could you take it…?”

Menelaus smiled softly and ran his hand over Odysseus’s face, as if to feel every wrinkle and disfigurement from age. Slowly moved the veil off Odysseus’s head and ran his fingers through his thinned, white wholly hair.

“I was telling to myself; endure it, old chap, Odysseus endured worse…this is nothing! I was saying to myself; you have to endure, this is what Odysseus would have done!”

Odysseus did the only thing he could; he collapsed. He held onto Menelaus for dear life; the way he embraced his son Telemachus when he saw him for the first time after so many years of ordeal. It was the only thing he could do for he could no longer cry. He could only tighten his grip; with his arms that no longer had his youthful strength, and shake as the sobs were coming from the soul rather than the tears and so did Menelaus; he embraced him tightly grasping the hair to the back of his head, burying his face to the crook of his neck. The two old friends were left to mourn their lives, their pain and fleeted youth. Both had wondered what if they had done things differently. What if had they chosen a different path? Nothing mattered now. They had both left the world they knew. Daring to break their embrace and Odysseus draw a few painful breaths, which torn his chest apart, to find his composure he looked up to see the gigantic figure of Ajax, accompanied by his brother Teucer. Ajax looked so youthful! Just a bit older than Achilles. His black eyes were staring or rather glaring at Odysseus’s frail and old form. He remembered the other time Odysseus had arrived to the underworld. He had tried to talk to him but Ajax’s anger was holding high. Now Odysseus felt even smaller than then before him.

“Ajax…” he whispered pleadingly, “Please…f-forgive me…! Please…don’t look at me like this! Please! Don’t…!”

“I hated you as much as I have hated no Trojan…”

The deep voice coming as if from the core of the earth made Odysseus look up. He hadn’t heard Ajax’s voice in decades. His words were knives that cut deep.

“You wronged me. Athena took away my dignity to protect you…I hated you like I hated no man…or no beast…”

“Please…” Odysseus whispered, “I know…I…I am sorry…I am…so sorry…!”

“But…”

Odysseus looked at his eyes; like a mouse that was caught at the claws of a cat. Ajax was not done yet.

“I learnt something from Menelaus and Teucer…something no one told me before…for others also hated me for my intentions. Menelaus and my brother told me it was you the one who demanded my funeral…he told me it was you the one who saved my soul…”

“I…” Odysseus stammered, “I couldn’t let you perish…f-for my…for the decision to take the arms… You didn’t deserve it…”

“No…” Ajax agreed, “I didn’t…”

He looked at him again. His look was not grateful even if his eyes were. Odysseus couldn’t expect more than that. He knew Ajax had a reason to be crossed with him. He wouldn’t demand him to let go of his anger for this.

“Thank you…for that” Ajax finally said, “For saving my honor”

Odysseus nodded. Yes, this was much more than what he could ever expect or wish for. He had long now stopped considering Ajax his enemy; daresay he might even consider him his friend. He was glad that at least Ajax wouldn’t hold on his grudge so strongly now.

“My son…”

The voice of Laërtes; music to his ears! He turned around to see his old father; the man he saw in despair in Ithaca turning his life around soon after; strong like a lion; the man he had buried long time ago; before he even left for his redemption trip. Now he seemed almost the same age as he was. Odysseus let himself go in his arms as if he were a boy, as if he needed once more that affection.

“Welcome, my son…” his father whispered, “Finally home…our Final Home…”

“F-Forgive me…f-father…you waited…again…”

“This waiting was sweet, my son” Laërtes replied, “I wouldn’t wish for you to arrive to this dark threshold before long time had passed! I wouldn’t feel joy in my heart if I saw my dear son looking younger than me when he arrived here…”

It was a sweet delight indeed. Odysseus realized from his father’s words that he would prefer a thousand times to stay in Hades for a thousand years suffering from longing and see his son arrive old and happy and content rather than see him arriving as soon as possible looking young and vigorous. It was a sweet pain that he would wish to welcome himself. Oh gods, let me suffer so, he prayed silently, let me suffer longing and nostalgia till I see my son and grandson again…see them arrive old and healthy; looking a decade older than me! Let them live long and well, Athena! That is all I ask! This pain in my heart…I shall take it gladly!

“There is someone else here though that wishes to see you, my son” the old man said once more, “Waited for long to greet you…”

“This blessed day and delight, Odysseus…! My Most Prayed For!”

That voice; that soft voice he hadn’t heard in decades! Odysseus turned around to see the figure dressed in veils; thin and frail, old and tormented but all the same beautiful and warm! He collapsed there was no way he could describe it! He forgot any law of propriety; any sort of shame or dignity.

“M-Mother…!” he croaked out

Oh, gods how cruel! I cannot shed tears! I cannot shed tears of happiness of joy…of sadness and pain! Of longing! How cruel!

“Odysseus…” Anticlea opened her arms.

She stood there. She didn’t come closer. Odysseus practically ran; as much as his old frail body allowed him to, and he threw himself in her embrace which close around him for the first time after.

“Ma…!” he called out again, “Gods! Gods!”

He nested in her arms; he hugged her as if he wanted to merge her with him; as if he wanted to merge into her body like he was almost a century prior! Finally! Finally!

“Ma!” he cried again out, “Hug me…! Please! Hug me…! H-Hold me…! Please!”

He cried out three times; like three times he had tried to embrace her back then when he was flesh and blood and she was a silent shadow who could talk to him only through the blood of the ram he had sacrificed! His mother’s bony fingers embraced him! Her hands ran through his hair. Odysseus practically slid to the ground, his stomach touching the rocks of Hades! His face was nested in his mother’s arms; his hands grasping the material she was wearing; desperately and his mother knelt to the ground, caressing his white from age head as if he were a baby who had just woken up from a nightmare. He wanted to nest in her arms; curl up there and be protected! His mother didn’t need to speak. She was only humming an old song he hadn’t heard in years…trying to soothe the storm of his soul… How weird indeed how despite her sorrows making her older, he looked so much older than her now; her veil was covering her still thick hair while his had started to thin out while he was growing older; her limbs were thin from sadness but his were shrunk by age; fingers stiff and rough from pains and years; her legs hidden under the long dress still strong and steadfast; his were beaten up by age and weather adorned by his infamous scar he got when he was just a lad…

“Gods…!” he whispered again, “Gods…! R-Release me…! No more…! Let me stay here…! My heart will burst if I go further…!”

He felt Menelaus’s hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, old friend, get up…” he said softly, “You are a king among kings now. Show some dignity”

The playful voice he heard from his lips was something that partially brought him back to reality but he still did not wish to let go. It took his mother’s encouragement and Menelaus’s assistance to drag his body off the ground and back to his feet. He almost felt dizzy as he leaned against Menelaus, almost to the point of fainting (even if he knew he wasn’t allowed that anymore. He was no flesh and blood. He was shadow and shade). Menelaus was true to his promise as he supported him as he leaned his head against his shoulder trying to catch his breath.

“Gods…I can’t…I can’t take this anymore…” he whispered

“There there…” Menelaus cooed at him, “You are almost there I am sure. You have endured so much, my friend! Just a little longer…”

“And then…this pain…will go away…?” Odysseus looked at him pleadingly

“Or you will learn to live with it” Menelaus smiled sadly, “Is no different than life, really…if you think about it. We lived with this pain for decades; so much so that we forgot what it feels like till our journey here reminded us. But you’ll have us here, my friend. You will never be alone again…”

The Much Enduring Odysseus lowered his head. Menelaus was right. What would be the difference? They would still live with shades. The shades that were in their heads before just happened to be around them now.

“I will accompany you for a little while” Menelaus said, “Until I cannot go further. Is that okay with you, Diomedes?”

It was the first time Odysseus heard anyone address Diomedes. Maybe they were all in awe and fear before his godly power. Either way Diomedes nodded. Yes, there would be no problem to have another person with them again for a little while. But then Odysseus felt fear bite his soul once again as he recognized the 108 figures of the suitors arriving! To their head there was Palamedes! The man he never thought he would see or rather he wished with all his soul he wouldn’t see. The people behind he could possibly handle but Palamedes? No, he knew he would have to face him sooner or later.

“Odysseus!” Palamedes called out, “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face around here!”

“Well…in my defense there was nowhere else I could go!” Odysseus mumbled as he made a few steps back, his mind paralyzed in fear

It was good that Menelaus was holding him. Palamedes laughed, soon followed by the rest of his wife’s suitors.

“Just imagine! The mighty Odysseus the one who slay us one by one is now in this condition! Frail and old! Shivering in fear before us!”

Feeling some of his old pride coming back, Odysseus stepped up a bit and faced his accusing party with as much courage he could master. Yes, currently his shade was weak, old, exhausted. He could not match the strength and vigorousness of these young men he had sent to Hades so long ago! However his pride would not allow this to be taken down one more time, especially by these people that wished to hurt his family.

“Will it give you satisfaction, Palamedes? Will it give satisfaction to all of you to beat down the shade of an old man? Will it change anything to our current condition?”

Every breath was hard, every word almost impossible. However Odysseus endured. Just like Menelaus had advised him; he had to live with the pain. He had to learn to accept it.

“No, but perhaps it will make us feel better thinking what you did to us!”

“Back off, Palamedes!” Menelaus commanded, wrapping his arm around Odysseus’s shoulders, “You had your chance years ago. You shall not touch this man! Not while I am here! If it weren’t of all of your unholy deeds you wouldn’t have come down so soon!”

“Menelaus speaks the truth!” Agamemnon responded, “This man is a king! You shall not touch him!”

“He is no king! He is nothing but a common butcher!” Antinous retorted

“Then that makes you nothing but a common thief” Menelaus pointed out, “Leave it be, Antinous! Do not taint your acts even further! This man suffered all his life and he is dead! Live with it!”

“How much deeper can we get!” Palamedes mocked him, “As you said we are dead!”

“You don’t wanna know!” Menelaus pointed out, his eyes now sparkling seriously, “Do not anger the gods even further! Heck, you are at the presence of one right now! Just leave it be!”

The large figure that got between them, cut the debate in half.

“Back off!” Ajax said emphatically, pointing his large finger against the chest of the previous prince, “You said what you had to say now back off!”

“What are you doing?!” Palamedes hissed, “He was supposed to be your enemy! He-…”

The finger on his chest once again made him stop.

“Back. Off!” Ajax commanded one last time.

Palamedes knew he didn’t stand a chance against that giant. The princes felt their need for revenge a bit puffing out. They backed down a bit. Palamedes eyed Odysseus with pure hatred.

“This isn’t over, Odysseus of Ithaca!”

“Pray that it is” Menelaus retorted, “This man is not alone! Remember that, Palamedes!”

Only when the souls of these men left the picture, Odysseus allowed himself to breathe. He would almost have collapsed again but Menelaus seemed ready this time, supporting him. Odysseus looked at the giant form of Ajax. His eyes spoke so many words even if his mouth could not put them together.

“Thank you…” he whispered. It was all he could say

“A favor for a favor” Ajax said plainly, “My debt is repaid”

Odysseus only lowered his head. He bowed before the greatness of that man as he had done so many times in the past. He looked at Diomedes who was still observing the scene; as if seeing his old war comrades.

“I am ready, Diomedes” Odysseus said, “Please, lead the way to the end…”

Diomedes silently nodded. Odysseus marched again, this time with Menelaus by his side, supporting him. He felt a warmth he hadn’t felt before. Yes, he would live with the pain. He had done so all his life. So he took a step.

And then another…

And another…

*

Menelaus was true to his word. He accompanied them for a long time. The two of them talked for many things; wars, trips, encounters. It was good to have another person to talk to him; someone who understood his pain…someone who had been through that before… And then once more, Menelaus stopped, like his companions stopped before. He could not go any further. Odysseus had looked at him like he was saying a final goodbye. His old friend had reassured him they would wait for him till his journey was over.

“Till it’s over…” Odysseus thought, “How long will that be though…?”

His travel lasted for something that seemed like an eternity to him… Maybe he had more of that to come. Now he was alone again, walking behind the light of Diomedes. More shadows of kings and queens had passed by them as they walked. When he spotted a tall, dark-haired figure playing with a toddler barely one years old, Odysseus covered his face with his veil and looked the other way in shame. No, he couldn’t face Hector of Troy…not yet! Hector, the Tamer of Horses looked up from his son only for one second but he didn’t seem to notice. He turned his attention back to his son, joined by his family as well. Odysseus silently cried his known now tear-less cry. So much pain and sorrow! And yet there was hope…at least they saw themselves again… He would face them eventually…just not yet…not yet… And they didn’t recognize him.

“Who would recognize an old, wandering shadow…?” he thought

“We are almost at the final section of this trip, Odysseus” Diomedes whispered, breaking him out of his thoughts, “Soon it will be over…it is all up to you”

“I…understand…” Odysseus nodded apprehensively. He was exhausted

“Are you afraid?”

Diomedes had voiced the same thing he asked him when he was about to take him from his bed that night. His voice was reassuring at least.

“No…” he whispered after some thought, “I have to do this anyway…let’s get it over with…”

Just a bit further they walked, Odysseus was once more hugging his veil around him, feeling older, insignificant and yet Menelaus and his companions, the other kings had given him strength to move on. And then they reached two ebony doors. They were as huge as a city wall. The carvings on the door were complicated; depicting battles and stories untold by humans through human voices and mouths. The intimidating gate was there in the middle of the misty underworld, as if coming out of nowhere. It was not attached to wall or anything similar to a building. It was just a gate in the middle of nowhere. Odysseus felt the clenching in his soul.

“This is it…” Diomedes said, “The final passage…”

Odysseus gulped.

“What’s on the other side?”

“I don’t know” Diomedes replied simply, “That is something you have to discover on your own to the other end…”

“Am I going to re-live my past…?”

“I don’t know…probably”

“Will I get to meet more of those who were wronged by me…?”

“It is possible…”

“This is the only way, right?”

“Yes…”

Odysseus held his veil tightly over the spot of the throbbing heart.

“It will be painful…won’t it? Almost unbearable…”

“Yes…” Diomedes couldn’t lie, “But the reward at the end will be worth it…”

“Penelope…!” Odysseus whispered in outmost longing

“Yes…” Diomedes confirmed, “She is waiting for you at the end of your journey, that’s all I know… That was her journey…”

“So I have to go to her…to relieve her from this pain…”

“Yes”

Odysseus sighed and then looked up. His eyes were pleading. Diomedes could almost see the tears running down those old, wrinkled cheeks. It almost looked like a cat lost in the rain for too long, begging to be taken in.

“Will you stay with me…?” Odysseus mumbled in a trembling voice, “I lied before…I’m scared…”

Diomedes smiled softly, almost like a warm sun after a spring rain.

“Of course…” he whispered

Odysseus closed his eyes as if instinctually trying to hold back the tears he was unable to shed.

“Thank you…” he whispered

Once again he accepted Diomedes’s arm and slowly marched towards the gates. The gates opened to let them in…into some cold corridor…with no apparent end…

The doors shut behind them…

***

Oh my...once again I was crying writing! Hopefully the emotions get through! And I was once again listening to emotional songs, more specifically from the anime Vampire Knight Guilty, that has some of the most emotional pieces I have ever heard! I was listening to plenty of them, in particular the Main Theme:

I was just crying with it...

So....Odysseus wandering in the Underworld and feeling the pain and pressure of the journey, a random thing that I though would fit! And meeting with the other kings among others!

And of course we have some iconic kings like Menelaus and Agamemnon. Not sure why I imagined Menelaus with hazel eyes maybe I was influenced a lot by art such as @thehelplessmortals in regards to his eye color (and oh boy I didn't realize I also kinda referenced the hug tag thing! Hahaha! I realized it later!). Also for Ajax you can look at designs such as @jacobpking to get an idea of what I had in mind! Most of the descriptions of the characters are one way or another based on their descriptions in Iliad and Odyssey ^_^

Many have expressed their need for more Odysseus and Menelaus material including @wolfythewitch with whom we also discussed at a comment section! This is a bit more bittersweet tender thing but I would expect more would come with these two! Also Menelaus potentially dying young is linked to my other theory about Menelaus having heart issues (their meeting is hinting another story I am thinking of writing in the future)

And of course Anticlea moment destroyed me! TT-TT These two deserved a closure here!

Okay for the afternote now! I hope @ditoob and my dearest friend @loco-bird will find this closure satisfactory! ^_^

***

(Afternote)

His steps were steady. For some reason the world around him was dressed in white. Everything above, below and around him shone as if made of white light. He didn’t feel the pain anymore. In fact he could hardly feel anything. For a while he was afraid he had gone completely numb. Diomedes had left a while back. He had supported him throughout the tunnel, holding his hand as if he were a baby. Every step he had taken felt like a millennia…his body seemed to be suffering with every one of them however now he felt surprisingly lighter. His body didn’t hurt anymore. It almost felt like he had gained his youth again; as if he was back to his prime age. It felt weird but Odysseus didn’t have a mirror to look into. He stopped for one second to draw a breath.

“In the end you found your way, baby…”

The voice…that voice that was ringing in his ear; that voice that almost seemed to be coming out of his very chest! There was no doubt about it! He turned to see that lean figure, covered in her veils, waiting at a distance.

“P-Penelope!”

His voice was a whisper of outmost longing! It was the greatest relief he had felt so far during that arduous trip in the underworld. She was right there! Her blue eyes shining like crystal waters, her ivory white skin shining as always…her raven-black hair framing her face! Diomedes was right! A millennia worth of pain was not even nearly enough payment for this result! He ran at her and just squeezed her in his arms! There was nothing else he could do but that! No power on earth; in this life or the next seemed able to separate them; as if they sought to become one. Their lips joined in a kiss so deep as they hadn’t shared before; death had separated them…death had brought them back together. It almost seemed like they wanted to share their soul. They parted only to embrace again.

“Penelope! Joy of my life…! Finally! Finally!”

Penelope wrapped her arms around him. Buried her face in his chest and almost sobbed if she had tears to shed.

“It took you some time to find your way…” she whispered meaningfully

Odysseus laughed shaking from the unreleased sobs.

“Y-Yes…” he whispered, “Forgive me…you have been waiting…”

Penelope pulled back a bit and smiled.

“We both did….”

Before Odysseus had time to ask, Penelope moved a bit aside and the little brown and black creature with the short fur appeared behind her. His tail was wagging ecstatically full of vitality. There was no sign of flee or parasite on his body. The dog gave a happy bark

“Argos!” Odysseus cried out

As if on a queue his loyal friend rushed at him and Odysseus knelt to meet him mid-way and Argos simply attacked his face with his pink tongue, shaking all over in excitement; giving him the greeting and welcoming he wished he could have given him so many years ago

“Argos!” Odysseus cried out, “Boy I am so happy to see you! Gods! Hey, easy boy! Easy!”

He caressed the fur, squeezed the muscular body and caressed the long ears! He wanted to do all things he never did with his loyal companion while he was alive! Penelope watched with her face distorted in emotion. Odysseus stood up.

“Penelope…?” he caressed her cheek, “My love what’s wrong…?”

“Oh, Odysseus!” she embraced him tightly. Odysseus knew she would cry if she could, “I missed you so much!”

“Me too! Me too, joy of my life! Every second was an eon!”

“And our home…our palace in Ithaca…our bed! I miss them so much!”

Odysseus felt his previous despair getting lost before his will to protect and support her. She was giving him strength as always.

“Shhh…” he cooed at her, running his hands through her silken locks, “I know…I miss them too…and I always will…but…this is where we must live now…”

He cupped her cheeks. He looked at her sincerely as she also did the same; she cupped his cheeks with her hands, feeling his beard.

“However we have each other now…Penelope…you are my Ithaca…” he whispered emphatically

He leaned his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes in delight.

“This is our home now” he repeated, “…and we shall stay…together!”

And he embraced her again. Argos was moving around their feet as if blessing their re-union.

“Oh, Penelope! I will never let you go! Never again! Never!”

“What if…” Penelope hesitated, “What if they send you to Elysium?”

Odysseus scoffed.

“I highly doubt there is much chance for that. I have done many things that no one should be proud of…Elysium doesn’t sound a place for me to be but even if that were to happen…I won’t go…”

“Would you…sacrifice that…?”

“Penelope…Immortality was too much of a price to pay to lose you! Now that I found you…Elysium would be torture…” he embraced her, “I need your strength, my love. Please don’t leave me again…!”

“Never…” Penelope replied, “I will always protect you, my husband, even without you asking…”

They shared another kiss. That earned a bark from Argos. They pulled back and chuckled together.

“Shall we go then, my love?” Odysseus suggested, “Let’s go and wait for our son to come in the future…”

“In many years to come I would hope…”

“Yes…if gods will it…in many, many more years to come…”

He whistled once. Argos lifted his ears and wagged his tail.

“Let’s go, boy! Let us go and explore this new world…”

Argos raising his paw in the air barked again. If he were a human he wouldn’t have spoken truer words. Odysseus took his wife by the hand. Yes, he would take the pain now that he had his wife by his side…his friends and companions. He could face eternity as he should be despite the coldness of the underworld. He had them.

He had Penelope…

He had everything he needed.

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part II

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this head canon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :)

Tag List: @anishake

Part III >>

Elain was running. Fallen twigs snapped under her weight, leaving shallow cuts on the soles of her bare feet. She held tightly onto her skirts, gold like morning sunlight, a beacon in the darkness of the forest. Elain’s knuckles were white around the fabric, jewelled rings flashing ruby red on each of her fingers. Gnarled branches reached out all around her, scratching her face, getting caught in the loose curls of her hair. Elain heard a lone wolf howling in the distance, but she couldn’t see the moon. 

Where was the moon? 

“Elain?” 

The sound of Feyre’s voice shook Elain from her wandering thoughts with a jolt. The tone of her sister’s question suggested that it had not been the first time she’d had to say her name. 

“Mhm,” Elain hummed in response, straightening out the thin fabric of her light blue skirts as she shifted in her cushioned seat. 

All morning, her mind kept returning to the dream that had woken her so suddenly. Elain could hardly consider it a nightmare, her mind had conjured much more frightening images in recent years, but there was something about the dream that had unsettled her. 

Feyre placed a gentle, tattooed hand on Elain’s shoulder. She furrowed her brows, concerned. “Are you alright?” 

Elain tore her gaze away from the dancing flames of the fireplace, tucking a strand of hair behind her arched ear. The gesture still managed to make her feel uncomfortable in her own skin, the shape of her ear still unfamiliar to her despite the time that had passed. 

Elain swallowed the discomfort, pushed it aside along with the thoughts of her dream. Cassian and Rhysand had paused in the middle of their conversation, and she wondered if they were waiting for her response. 

Elain flashed her younger sister a smile, knowing it looked genuine. “Why wouldn’t I be?”  

Concern still lingered in Feyre’s eyes, her mouth curling down at the corners. She looked like she had more to say, but the door to the suite opened, capturing not just her attention, but Elain’s as well.    

When Rhysand had asked Elain that morning to take part in a meeting at the Hewn City, it had been unexpected, but welcome. Elain would have been content to watch over Nyx, as she usually did when the Night Court had business to attend to, but Elain had wanted to keep busy.

Usually, spending her spare time gardening was enough to keep Elain’s mind occupied. Being out in the warm sunlight, the gentle wind a comforting caress as Elain tended to the lovely flowers, it always brought her a sense of peace.    

Lately, though, despite her best efforts, Elain had been feeling…anxious. 

A strange feeling would come to her suddenly, close to panic, and she would choke on her nerves. It was almost an impression of her own emotions  – hers, but not entirely. Like lightning, the feeling would overwhelm her briefly, and as quickly as it had come, it would disappear. 

Elain had assumed the panic was related to her abilities as a seer, that the ancient power was once again rearing its ugly head, but as Azriel walked into the room with another man following close behind, Elain was overcome with the realisation that she had forgotten about Lucien. 

Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court. 

Elain tried her best not to think about him, his name alone was enough to make her bitter. She could still recall every word he had ever said to her, and yet Elain wanted nothing to do with him. Her mate. 

Elain had thought Lucien was Autumn personified, when she had met him, learned more about him. He was all the golds and reds she had associated with the season, until Elain had seen Lucien’s eldest brother for the first time during the Winter Solstice and her opinion had changed entirely. 

Eris Vanserra was lovely in the same way that broken glass was, and he looked every bit like the faeries she had heard about when she lived on the other side of the wall. Blood-red hair, eyes like golden coins, his skin was pale as bone. He looked dangerous, deadly, a striking opposite to Lucien despite their similarities. How fitting, Elain had thought, that Autumn was the season of death, and Eris was its prince. 

If Eris was here, and she had been brought to this meeting, then Elain could declare with certainty that Lucien would be at the centre of the discussion. The sound of her own heartbeat was thunderous in her ears as Elain tried to convince herself she didn’t care what happened to Lucien. She barely knew him, after all. 

When Eris’s assessing gaze fell on her, Elain made a point to look elsewhere. She watched as the door closed shut on a phantom wind, and she wondered if it was Feyre’s or Rhysand’s magic that had done so.  

Azriel walked silently past Eris to stand at Rhysand’s side, his shadows scattering to the room’s dark corners. The suite was large, beautiful, but Elain felt like the grey walls were closing in around her, a cell. Elain placed her hands in her lap, her posture like that of royals. 

“I won’t waste your time, or mine, with pleasantries,” Eris clipped. “We all know why I’ve come to your wretched city.” 

Elain kept her face blank, revealing nothing, but she noticed Cassian’s frown, the only hint he too had been unaware of the reason behind their meeting. Eris’s observant eyes caught the movement and he raised his auburn brows. 

Before the heir could comment on it, Rhysand spoke. “Lucien is in Autumn.”  

Elain knew very little about the court, but she could guess from the expression on her family’s faces that this could mean nothing good. 

“Not very smart, sending him to Spring.” Eris said, and Feyre winced. Elain wondered if Feyre blamed herself for whatever situation Lucien was currently in. “I think the only reason my father hasn’t killed him yet is because he still holds the title of the Night Court’s emissary.” 

“I wasn’t under the impression Beron cared for such things,” Azriel mumbled. 

Embers fell from the tips of Eris’s fingers as he smiled, mocking. “And risk angering the most powerful High Lord in history?”

Azriel glared at Eris, shadows at his shoulders. Eris winked in response, taunting. 

“What can we do for him, Eris?” Rhysand asked, drawing his attention once more. 

“You?” Eris frowned,  “probably nothing.” He faced Elain with flames in his amber eyes. She had to make an effort not to shrink into her seat. “I had asked to meet with Lady Elain.” 

Of course Eris would want to speak with her, Elain thought. A million questions flashed through her mind, but Rhysand’s voice cut through the room like a knife, stopping her before she could ask any of them. 

“And I had told you, Eris, that would not be possible without the rest of my court present.” At his angry words, Elain bristled.  

Eris ignored the High Lord of Night, his focus solely on Elain. “I sent word to your sister days ago, my father has Lucien thrown in the dungeons and he cares very little for my brother’s well-being.” Elain bit the inside of her cheek, tasting blood, but Eris had more to say. “My father wants Lucien dead, but his connection to the High Lady of Night is keeping him alive, at least for now.” 

Elain was sure Eris would have continued, but she was feeling resentful. Like an indignant child throwing a tantrum, Elain snapped. “You knew?” She kept her voice measured, but the tone was accusatory as she directed her words at Feyre. “You knew, and didn’t think to tell me?” 

Feyre had the decency to look ashamed, but she said nothing. 

Eris clicked his tongue. “And here I thought you were the one sentencing Lucien to a cruel death.” 

“What do you mean?” Elain demanded, her patience wearing thin with him as well. She could barely recognise herself, her emotions wild like the flames of a forest fire. Elain stood from her seat, the wooden legs of the chair scratching the black marble of the floor. She clenched her hands in fists at her sides. 

Eris watched Elain, reading her reaction. “I forget that you are new to this life, new to our laws and our ways.” His eyes skipped to Feyre for a moment before coming back to Elain. “As Lucien’s mate, you could demand an audience with the High Lord of Autumn, and request his return to Night.”  

Elain was not given a chance to share her thoughts as everyone in the room began to speak over one another. She paid no attention to their words, too concerned with what Eris had claimed. 

It should not have mattered to her, what Lucien’s fate would be. If Eris was right, and Lucien died at the High Lord of Autumn’s hands, she would not have to worry about having the mate she had never wanted. Instead of the relief she would have assumed to feel at the thought, she could only feel an overwhelming sense of dread. 

I’ll do it. 

The words rang clear in her head, the toll of a bell. When everyone turned to face her, Elain realised that she had spoken out loud. 

Elain looked to Eris, voice firm. “I’ll go to Autumn.”

[obriengf]

6 or 9 or maybe both together because i feel like they bleed into one another a bit.. with Joel maybe? please and thank you a million times. you're a fantastic writer — I adore everything you post.

send me a prompt for some oblivious love blurbs ✩ CLOSED Notes: first of all - thank you my lovely! second, I've gone with 9!

BLINDSIDE

"I can't believe we've come this far." Your words were spoken in a whispered tone, hardly enough to break the night's calm. Specks of light were disappearing under the blanket of clouds and sprinkling rain that hazed the view before you, two bodies sheltered as they sat beside each other. You could feel pearls of rain dripping from the tips of your hair, adding to the already saturated material of your shirt. You hadn't seen water fall from the sky for seven years - your life sheltered until recently, when you volunteered to join an ambitious friend as he journeyed across the Surface to find a girl. A lost love, that wasn't you. You heard a hum as warmth pressed to your side, the boy next to you leaning against your arm as a form of admiring acknowledgement. As your head dropped to his shoulder, you hoped that he couldn't feel the heavy thump of your heart - a juxtaposition to the serenity you selfishly burrowed within. Joel drew a deep breath, his sigh coated in contentedness, "It's crazy. Things have changed so much, everything we knew about the world is just... so non-existent, you know?" Time had been cruel, and it had isolated so many people as the Earth changed into unrecognisable land. Your families were gone, your homes destroyed, and your lives seemingly extinct since before the monsters had taken over. But at least you had Joel; your closest friend, your forever ally, your everything. And now Boy, a companion that was as loyal as they came.

You both jumped slightly as a beep resonated around your quiet space, Mav1s unknowingly reminding you that her power was draining and that she will soon be leaving you all. Her tone was calming, a feature that you were thankful for within the very brief moment you had spent together as you turned to peer at her screen, "Look, sky jellies! They're harmless and quite lovely."

The dying drops of rain brought back light; bright blues and pinks that glowed, flying jellyfish that created a beautiful sight that you were sure you'd only ever see once in your life. You were in awe as wide eyes took in the dancing colours before you looked at Joel, his lips curled high, just as enthralled as you were and possibly even more mesmerised.

Mav1s beeped again; her time was nearly at the end, but instead of trying to continue conserving her power, she used it for one last hoorah. "Joel, Y/N... would you like to hear a song?"

After you both answered with sympathetic affirmations, a familiar tune emitted from Mav1s' speakers - a tune that you had long forgotten, but had also quickly brought back a warmth of memories that settled so easily in your chest. You softly grinned, body slightly swaying, "I love this song."

When the night has come And the land is dark And the moon is the only light we'll see.

You were humming, nostalgia settling deep within your bones, and Joel could see just how fulfilled you were in that moment of bliss. It was hasty when he stood up; never once second-guessing, hesitance not even a playing card in his deck when he placed himself in front of you with an outstretched hand and lopsided smile that could make you fall to your knees. He cleared his throat, voice confident, "Dance with me."

It was an offer that could not be refused.

You accepted his offer graciously, your palm slipping against his, and he guided you under the stray drops that continued to fall and among the radiant neon gleam of the Jellyfish. They cast purple tones over his cheeks - a lavender haze that brought out the warmth in his eyes and the small golden freckles over his nose that is only recognisable when you're this close. Joel Dawson was many things; awkward, determined, impulsive, and brave, but also incredibly beautiful.

No, I won't be afraid Oh, I won't be afraid Just as long as you stand Stand by me.

You didn't miss the small shake in his hands before they settled slightly above your waist, and you only hoped that he wasn't regretting his choice to bring you out here. It prompted you to be nervous yourself when arms draped over his shoulders and around his neck, but he managed to sink into your embrace with ease. Bodies rocked from side to side and the moment, whether purposeful or not, turned intimate rather quickly.

Baby brown eyes flickered over your face as stray drops of water beaded from his hair, and Joel took a deep breath before his voice filtered out quietly, "I'm really happy you came with me. Even if we did almost die, like, five times already. I don't think I could've done any of this without you."

Your lips lifted, tone just as gentle to prevent breaking the bubble you both found yourselves in, "Joel Dawson. When are you going to learn that I will always be here for you? No matter how stupid your ideas can get sometimes." A chuckle followed your words and the same amusement pulled jovially at his facial features, his nose crinkling and eyes squinting in what would be pure happiness.

"Honestly, sometimes I wonder why you'd risk everything just to follow me 'cross the surface. And don't try to spare my feelings by saying it's just cuz you're my best friend. I get it, I'm not really the sole survivor type." Joel mused, both sets of feet carrying you both in a circular pattern as he released a laugh of his own.

Oh darlin' darlin' stand by me Oh, stand by me

You shook your head, feet stopping, hands sliding down until they rested over the boy's shoulders. With a quirked brow, you looked up at him, "You can't take a hint, can you?"

His head fell to the side in confusion, obliviousness weaving its way into his eyes and the minimal downturn of his mouth. Joel's hands slipped from your body and you instantly missed their warmth as he replied to you, "You know I only function properly when someone’s direct with me."

It was risky. Everything about the past few days with Joel was, but within this bubble, what you were thinking and what you craved was a recipe that when mixed... could potentially end in disaster. Alas, there was something so poetic about the delicacy that surrounded you two right here, right now. So, with tentative movements at first, you stood on the toes of your boots, a palm trailing up the side of his neck and settling on his cheek.

And then you kissed him.

It was short, but sweet. Lips slotting perfectly against the other, and you were so lost in the taste and feel of him that you didn't notice his hands grasping back at your waist. It was slow when you pulled back and your mind needed a second to catch up, but your nose dragged against his and your feet flattened.

"I don't think I can get any more direct than that." You mumbled, eyes finally fluttering open, only to be met with his still pursed lips but a furrow between his brows that you couldn't decipher. You dropped your hands and took a step back, "Joel?"

Oh stand now Stand by me Stand by me...

The abrupt silence was distraction enough from Joel's lack of reaction as you spun to face Mav1s, her power gone, and Boy's head tilting in his own confusion at her lack of liveliness. You needed to step away from your friend as regret bubbled inside of your stomach, provoking the sensation of bile to gather in the pit of your throat before you swallowed it down.

You wandered toward the robot and reached toward the buttons on her front panel, pressing them anxiously as if she'd magically wake back up. It was her, too, lack of response that brought the nausea back and for the first time in seven years, you wished you were held up in your bed back at the bunker. Your thoughts were interrupted as footsteps fell heavy behind you, and Joel gaped as he tried to think of words to say.

"I-I don't get it... is that why you came with me? Because you like me?" His tone was unsure and it shook you to know that the ground couldn't open up and swallow you whole.

"No... yes, not exactly." You sighed when you stood back to full height, turning to face him, however, your eyes remained cast at your shoes. "I needed to know that you'd be okay, Whether you could take care of yourself or not... I couldn't let you leave knowing that I could possibly never see you again. I care about you more than anything else, Joel. I always will."

"I care about you, too." His answer was swift, but carried uncertainty that felt like an arrow to the heart. You were waiting for the dreaded 'but' that would twist the arrow further down until it pushed your heart through your chest. And then it came, and it wasn't so forgiving, "But I came all this way for Aimee, my girlfriend. I love her, you know that..."

And you did, but you thought that after all these years, it would be something that he grew out of. It was selfish to wish that he wasn't in love, that somebody wasn't waiting for him. You didn't mean to grow feelings for the boy, either, but spending so much time with someone in such a limited space does wonders for making a heart grow. Only now, it's sinking, it's fracturing and soon it will be no more.

You willed yourself not to cry. Instead, you breathed sharply, head nodding, and you faced away from him before reaching out to stroke over Boy's head. You cleared your throat, "Well, we better get a good night's sleep then so we can get you to your girl."

"Y/N-" Joel tried, but you cut him off.

"Come on, Boy, let's find somewhere comfy, huh? At least Clyde isn't here to make us keep watch." You made sure to move past Joel without any sort of eye contact, or emotion, or anything as you know that the moment you peer into his sympathetic eyes you will only feel worse about yourself.

As if the guilt would eat you alive.

[sungbeam]

𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋 — teaser!

nonidol!kevin moon x f!reader

another summer break, another annual trip to the lake! except, it seems like when you and kev get there, you'll have to make some tweaks to the original rescue protocol.

▷ genre, teaser warnings. childhood friends 2 lovers, fluff, summer break au/college au, hurt/comfort, humor, implications of motherly meddling and matchmaking

▷ projected release date. october 10th/11th

▷ estimated word count. 20-26k

this is the sixth installment of the love in unity series! rescue protocol takes place after all the events of the main storyline, and you shouldn't need to read any prev fics to understand this one. any prev yns will be referred to as _!yn

a/n: i swear i'm (half) alive 🧍🏻‍♀️ but yeah, i've been punching out words lately and it's probably a bad idea to post this at the end of the weekend when no one will see it, but thank u again @justalildumpling for being my hypewoman ily

TEASER BELOW THE CUT (APPROX. 500 WORDS)

“It’s a warm morning out,” your mother murmured, then quickly added, “hey you.” She knocked her hand against your arm.

“Hm?” You asked as you finished up Alice’s braid and tied it off with the blue Cinnamoroll hair tie she’d chosen. You patted her back with your hand. “You’re done.”

Your little sister hopped to her feet. “Thanks!” She dashed away and out of the room—to where, you had no clue. You figured she knew where the food was if she was hungry.

You angled your body to squish your side against the couch cushions and face your mother. “What were you saying?”

“Ah, I was going to talk to you about the Joshua Hong boy.”

Joshua Hong. You didn’t realize you could hear a man’s name so often within twelve hours.

You made a gesture with your hand. “What about the Joshua Hong boy, Mom?”

“Well, isn’t he a handsome one?” She asked you enthusiastically, straightening. It was alarming how bright her face just got. “I spoke to his mom while Kevin and I were walking just now, and he’s only a few years older than you, you know.”

You heard a metaphorical record scratch. What? There was so much in that one sentence that you needed to unpack. You raised your hands to signal her to pause. “Wait, since when do you and Kevin take walks together?” What could they have been talking about? You knew Kevin was an exceptional conversationalist, but never in your time at the lake had you known of this interaction.

Your mother blinked. “Oh, we started the tradition when you didn’t come up with us that one year.”

“Tradition?” So this happened more than once? You didn’t know why you were so scandalized by this information—it was just Kevin after all. You knew your parents, and even your siblings, were all fond of him—of course they were. You were arguably even more fond of him, but that wasn’t the point. You hoped she hadn't said anything about you and him as an item at any point in time… you trusted that Kevin could handle that though; that was what the pact was for, after all.

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” She arched a brow. “But anyway, yes, so we bumped into Josh’s mom on the last leg around the lake, and she mentioned that he’s majoring in chemistry and planning to go into medicine. You guys might have something in common."

You pursed your lips. Perhaps the two of you might have something to talk about, but your track was pre-veterinary rather than pre-med. There was probably a middle ground though... Maybe you were just being stubborn.

“Just make friends or something,” she said to you while standing up from the couch. “You need more of those.”

Your eyes shot wide open. “Hello? Mom?” Now that was simply uncalled for.

She chuckled impishly as she walked away and disappeared down the hall, leaving you to yourself. You were lucky neither of the twins were here to hear that burn.

a/n: if i am being so fr i don't even really like the part i chose for this lol but i haven't written the juicy parts yet 🤕 so stay tuned pls ... haha

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr

[smallcowplant]

hello everyone!! I hope ur all having a beautiful day <33

not sure if I'm really "back", but I'm here for at least..........a sec. lmao! how's it hanging in simblr-world?? what's new w/u guys?

rambling update about where I've been/this account under the cut:

in the time I was gone, I bounced to another tumblr fandom/circle and I've been really enjoying it! tbh, I think part of the thing that killed my enthusiasm for simblr was how lonely it felt after a while.

idk if it's still present, since I've been out of the sphere for a hot second, but there very much was a push for keeping your blog "clean" or self-curated to be 99% your own content?? idk how to explain it. but that was just the norm. reblog ur buddies once in a blue moon but keep your space neat so ppl could see ur stuff. and, u know, @ the time, I really didn't see anything too weird about that.

but now? after hopping into multiple fandoms and being active in other communities? where reblogging other ppl's stuff and making ur blog a funky lil collage of things u love (gifsets/writing/art/memes) is just? normal? what u do? that simblr culture feels v strange to me jdfhfdjshjdsf

that's not the only reason I drifted away tho!! can't put the blame solely on that!! I think it was also just..............the product of getting older and getting into other things!! I made this account when I was 21........and I'm 27 now LOL. things have certainly changed over the years.

if I stick around simblr this time, I might be migrating to a new account! that just feels like the vibe rn. will keep u posted if that happens.

ANYWAYS!!! ruminating OVER!!

I hope all of u are doing well!!

please lmk if u guys have any challenge recs (gameplay/cas/legacy what have u)!! a gal is rusty as hell!! also, preemptive apology if I disappear off the face of the earth again LMAO

[seirooo0]

eepyhead

Type: Drabbles

Character: Rui lol

Synopsis: You like sleeping a lot for some reason, just like me fr!

Content warnings: Reader is referred to with he/him pronouns, probably ooc I'm not really sure, the setting is in 3rd year Rui + Tsukasa; reader is classmates with these sillies, it's fluff if you squint hard enough I swear

Note: Something self-indulgent I made, nothing really long or big. I love posting once in a blue moon, you will never hear from me again

If there were any words to describe you, it would definitely be a sleepyhead. Waking up, yawning, and going back to dreamland, the cycle repeats that most of your peers who were once concerned now just took it as a trait of yours. Even your boyfriend, Rui, had accepted it, after so many failures of trying to keep you awake for the sake of class.

The situation wasn't far too different today, your head resting haphazardly on your desk as lunch time flew by. Really, you'd rather spend lunch break sleeping away than consuming anything, no matter how unhealthy the lifestyle you're living in is. Although, you did reason that it is to 'conserve energy' for the next classes after break times (but let's be real, you're just eepy). As you sleep and drift away to dreamland, at a distance you could hear (although barely) a familiar loud voice. However, it was difficult to make up whatever they were saying. (something about you sleeping again? Maybe?)

"Rui! Wake him up already! He can't be sleeping until next period again!" The voice screamed. Okay, perhaps maybe it's not so distant or maybe he's just loud as hell. The voice, to which with all your strength, recognized as Tsukasa, poked you mercilessly. But alas, you stayed unmoving, far too stubborn to stay in dreamland it seems. Even though you were asleep, subconsciously you could hear them talking about you as if you were the new gossip subject of today's teens. "Tsukasa, shh!! Don't be so loud, I don't want you to wake my sleeping beauty up!" "Nonsense, Rui! You gotta know he can't keep sleeping all day all the time! It's bad for his sleep schedule, it's unhealthy and you know that!" The bickering continued for what seemed like hours. You're far too tired (sleepy) to keep track of that. You don't care either anyway.

From what felt like an hour or two, you finally woke up from your (rather uncomfortable) slumber. Slowly fluttering your eyes open, the first thing that you felt was the stiff neck and a headache thanks to the hard surface of your desk. The second was the soft, yet undoubtedly large blue cardigan draping over your shoulders, blanketing you from the cold. You took the cardigan off and stared at it for a moment, before smiling and using it as a pillow for your next round of sleep. Thankfully, there was no teacher for today's subject class. So you peacefully slept away, unbeknownst to the fact your lover is looking over at you with a fond yet amused look in his eyes.

"You should really stop indulging him in his habit too much, Rui." Tsukasa said, grumbling behind Rui as the purple head stares at you with a fond, loving look in his eyes. "Oh, don't worry. I won't do it too much, fufu.." "CLEARLY, THAT'S A LIE!!" "Ah, don't be too loud now, Tsukasa. I don't want you to wake my dear up from his peaceful slumber."

My last post for now as I will go ahead and disappear for the next months (until I get another silly idea hahahahahhaha)

[no-where-new-hero]

LANTERN HILL CATCH UP POST AT LAST! Analysis under the cut so the post doesn't destroy everyone's timelines.

CH. 2:

LMM really knows how to put her heroines on the torture rack of family disapproval. We just went through Valancy's under the Stirlings and I know Emily's off by heart, but there's something even more terrible about the way Jane is treated because she's not 29 and therefore somewhat more acquainted with life, nor does she have Emily's soul-armor of imagination. As an object of belittling, she has very little to shield herself when her entire world is her unpleasant family around her. Love this line, I've definitely been there too lol.

Sometimes Jane thought drearily that there must be something the matter with her when there were so many people she didn't like.

CH. 3:

Jane got up and walked out of the summer-house and around the garage, past the lonely dog-house that had never had a dog in it…at least, in Jane's recollection…

Disappointed (Dog)House.

Again Jane felt a thrill of understanding. So this girl was afraid of people, too.

Jane is an unusual socially-centric LMM heroine from what I can tell. Valancy and Emily disappear into blue castles or nature to cope. Anne is intensely sociable, but she wins over everyone: she's never allowed the grimier side of humanity to put fear in her. So the fact that this is what stands against Jane and Jody marks a change: they would like to partake in the freedom of society but mores stand against Jody and Grandmother stands against Jane.

CH. 4:

Ahem. Mother's complete and utter lack of compassion for Jody is where the problems begin to arise, I see. I'm also a bit impressed that Jane is able to see her mother's "weakness" so unerringly at 10. It shows how the circumstances of always living in terror of Grandmother has provoked a trauma response of being too precocious at reading people. Grandmother continues to make my blood boil. This following passage REALLY shows LMM's mastery in making the most of an economical scene:

She stood in the doorway and looked at them. You could feel the silence spreading through the room like a cold, smothering wave. "What does this mean, Victoria...if I am allowed to ask?" "This is...Jody," faltered Jane. "I...I brought her over to give her my doll. She hasn't any." "Indeed? And you have given her the one your Aunt Sylvia gave you?" Jane at once realized that she had done something quite unpardonable. It had never occurred to her that she was not at liberty to give away her own doll.

And Jane DOES have a blue castle! Of course LMM couldn't leave her without a coping mechanism. Calling it a "moon spree" is absolutely delightful and henceforth anytime I fall into daydreams I'm going to call it a moon spree.

CH 5:

All she knew about him was that his name must have been Andrew Stuart, because mother was Mrs Andrew Stuart.

Okay not gonna lie this broke my heart a little. She doesn't even know his name qua his name. It probably had never been directly spoken to her. I have to say I love her audacity (even if unintended) in dropping the bombshell question in the mother of Grandmother's tea party. I can only imagine the tempest in the teapot that followed Jane's departure.

But the most terrible thing about it all was that there was something now that could not be talked over with mother. Jane felt it between them, indefinable but there. The old perfect confidence was gone.

And this stuck under my skin. Of course Jane would avoid the subject like the plague, but what's keeping Robin from providing her daughter with some necessary context? Grandmother's prohibition on mentioning him seemed mostly directed at Jane. I'm sure more about Robin will unfold, but keeping in mind a lot of stuff other people have posted about her, I think her cardinal sin is this kind of selfish immaturity. She has learned to love her daughter, probably because Jane insists on being self-reliant, but because of that she probably can't see what she can do to help Jane's suffering.

CH 6:

Mary did not tell Jane that she firmly believed the old lady had poisoned the dog. You didn't tell children things like that and anyway she couldn't be dead sure of it. All she was sure of was that old Mrs Kennedy had been bitterly jealous of her daughter's love for the dog.

MRS. KENT ENERGY. I feel certain someone else in the book club brought this up, but wow the resemblance is strong with this one. And a way into deciphering Teddy's character based on Robin? Certainly, the selfishness and immaturity doesn't seem a stretch to imagine.

"I expect you to obey me without argument, Victoria. You cannot have your own way all the time. Other people's wishes must be considered occasionally. Please oblige me by making no further fuss over a trifle."

Okay of all Grandmother's travesties, this one takes the cake for me. I want to slap the daylights out of this woman so badly.

CH. 7:

Kenneth Howard has peaked eyebrows...brother under the skin to Barney Snaith. Now, all jokes aside, Jane projecting onto Kenneth Howard kind of hit a personal nerve. And the fact that it's yet another thing that Robin can't talk about...like, WOMAN. Please be normal about men to your 11 year old daughter or neither of you may ever recover. I'm curious how this thread will be taken up again later.

CH. 8:

Something about the fact that Robin can't even tell her own daughter that she did a good job in front of Grandmother, no matter what Grandmother herself thinks, makes me wonder what kind of threat Robin finds herself under. Because Grandmother so determinedly "loves" Robin, she doesn't seem likely to wield sarcasm against her. Yes, she kind of orders her about and turns her into her doll, but that's less active cruelty than what she says to Jane. What is Robin so afraid of that prevents her from supporting her daughter? That Jane will be harmed if she seems too loved, like her dog? Yet if Robin is that aware of what's going on and doing nothing about it--dramatically saying that its too late for them to escape--then Robin is literally as damaging to Jane's well-being as Grandmother is.

[loaksky]

Hello love, I'm so so happy for youuuu, i saw your 1k follower post and now this!!!! Ahhh I'm so happy, you really deserve this for your hard work, and i saw some angst prompts i can't decide between 19, 32, 33, 38, 42, and 48 with like neteyam, lo'ak or Jake, like cheats on the reader, Like they were forced into a marriage or something? Yeah no comfort, I'm in a sad era rn, i need some heartbreak 😭🤌🏼 and again a very hearty congratulations 🎉👏🏼🫶🏼💙

fourth installment for the party; thank you for participating !

jake sully x fem omatikaya!reader, angst w an open ending, prompts 32 + 42, wc: 1046

not typically fond of the whole 'neytiri's sister' trope, but tried to do something a little different and i think it works well enough in this case !

It’d always been like this, the burden of the clan’s future on your shoulders, yet the eclipse of your younger sister’s shadow looming like a snuffing darkness. You’d been born out of obligation, Neytiri born of pure desire, and out of all the things that graced the small moon to intensify this gnawing feeling, you hadn’t expected it to be the clumsy dreamwalker who stumbled upon your village. 

Jake Sully was a peculiar thing and, even more peculiar, you were tasked with showing him the way of the Omatikaya despite having other pressing duties to tend to. So as the sun sits high at its peak in the blue skies, until it disappears and shrouds Pandora in the glowing luminescence of the moon’s heartbeat, you toil with blood, sweat, and tears to make sure that Jake Sully won’t disappoint you or your people. 

But the biggest disappointment doesn’t come from Jake, though. It comes from you. Because try as you might to separate your duties from the ministrations of your temperamental heart, you fall hard. Can’t help it when Jake doesn’t make you feel the pressure your parents and the villagers do. When he makes you giggle, makes you forget that you’re doing this out of requirement. Especially so when his fingers brush yours and your skin lights like livewire beneath a cool surface. 

Jake Sully makes you feel and you begin to wonder if you’re willing to give in and lay yourself bare at the expense of everything you’ve worked hard for since you can remember. 

So when Jake tells you that your father and mother want him to choose a woman to solidify his place in the tribe, it makes your stomach lurch like the waves of the relentless ocean. There are women, far and wide, who fawn over the newcomer. Whisper the most decent and indecent things about your Jake. 

But most importantly, Neytiri is among those eyes, the quietest of those whispers because if there’s anything she hates more, it’s the idea of crossing her beloved older sister. Of taking away yet another thing that dangles just within your reach. 

“Have you chosen?” you ask with bated breath, stoking the dying fire at the center of the tent. 

Jake blinks at you like you’re stupid, a silent gaze that asks if you’ve been experiencing the same things that he has over the course of months flooded with an overwhelming yearn for you. 

“I have,” he opts to say, swallowing down the knot of fear that wedges at the base of his throat. He moves the smallest of spaces closer, pinky finger reaching for your own as he watches the flames cast harsh shadows over the soft contours of your stoic face. 

You nod once, a long stretch of silence making the ache in Jake’s chest pinch tenfold. 

“You’re not going to ask me who?” he asks quietly. 

“Should I?” you reply, fixing the final pieces of your bravado into place. 

He blinks once, twice, in disbelief. 

“Don’t make me feel like I imagined this whole thing,” he pleads softly. 

You want to be selfish, want to push yourself into his arms, want to whisper against his lips that of course he hadn’t imagined this whole thing. That if you didn’t have your whole world on the line, that you wouldn’t think twice about giving yourself to him, of taking him as he is. 

“Perhaps you have,” is all you say, shifting to settle a sizable distance between you two. 

He’s incredulous, speaking to cover the sounds of his breaking heart. 

“I think I…,” Jake trails off. “I know that I’m falling in love with you. And I also know that you feel it, too.” 

You scoff out a humorless laugh, unable to meet his gaze because you know you’ll crack. 

“There are hundreds of other women you could set your sights on, Jake,” you say flatly. “Why me?” 

“Why not you?” he argues shakily. “I don’t care about other women, and maybe I’m being presumptuous, but I also don’t care about your sister.” 

That makes you look. 

It means that he’s noticed. He’s noticed that the same way he yearns for you, Neytiri yearns for him. It makes it burn all the more, that you’ll always be his first choice despite having to put an end to whatever this is between the two of you. 

“I have a duty to this clan, Jake,” you say, feeding more fuel to the fire. “My future has already been mapped out and you are not a part of it.” 

His face falls, ears flattening as he jerks away like he’s been burned. 

“I should’ve…” He shakes his head. “I should’ve already known I wasn’t good enough.”

Your eyes shake with tears, scalding as the flames start to lick the edges of the enclosure. Of all the things Jake could be in your book, good enough would always be one of them. 

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “It’s not like that. It’s just–” 

“Then tell me what I did wrong!” he hoarses, chest heaving. “What’s wrong with me?” 

Your lips twitch into a frown and you hiccup as Jake unravels before you. You reach a trembling hand towards him, but he’s drawing farther and farther away from you. 

“I’ve been trying so hard,” he shudders, standing to tower above you. “To make you see that this is all for you. And I’d be a damned liar if I said that I went into this with the purest of intentions, but you made me fall for you. You made me want to be a better man for you.” 

The first tear slips and you’re dashing it away angrily. 

“Jake–” 

“I’ve fucked up a lot of things in my life, but I’m just now finding something actually worth living for,” he swallows. “So please, just be with me and let me live.” 

You’re blinking away the sheen that glosses over your eyes and pools at your waterline. 

He watches you with desperate eyes, watches as your fists clench and you sniffle over the roar of the crackling fire. It burns nearly as much as he does for you, but when you don’t meet his gaze, or make no moves to follow him after he leaves, he gets his answer. 

neng © 2023

[paladinbaby]

@queensparklekitten / paladinbaby / @engulfes / wintering, katherine may / d&d notes / american arithmetic, natalie diaz / sun bleached flies, ethel cain / you signed up for this, maisie peters / the moon will sing, the crane wives / kafka on the shore, haruki murakami

[Image Description: Ten images mostly of text.

1: A tumblr post with a reblog from the original poster saying ““oh no we’re all doomed by the narrative” maybe you are. i’m the narrative’s favourite.

update: turns out this is not a good thing for me”

2: A drawing of my d&d character Nettle, she looks upset and her eyes are glowing white. She is pointing a pistol forwards and her other hand is clasped to her chest. She is against a dark blue background and there are yellow flowers tucked behind her ear and coming up from the bottom edge of the image.

3: “girls when they’re addicted to loneliness and desperation it’s the strongest emotion they have ever known so their subconscious tells them it’s their destiny”

4: “Most of all I want to disappear. I’m almost desperate to find a way to absent myself easily from the situation, like cutting around my outline with a craft knife and cleanly excising myself from the record.”

5: A note hand written on lined notebook paper. “my life but it was made better by all of you and by lensa and by may. i’ve really liked having breakfast with you. whatever happened to me, i don’t want any of you to feel bad. we knew what we were walking into. i knew what i was walking into. maybe more than i thought i did

i hope all of you are okay”

6: “I am doing my best to not become a museum of myself. I am doing my best to breathe in and out. / I am begging: Let me be lonely but not invisible.”

7: “God loves you, but not enough to save you / So, baby girl, good luck taking care of yourself”

8: “please don’t give up on me yet / i know I’ll get better, i’m just not better yet / can you tell i’m trying? running out of breath / i know i’ll get better, i’m just not better yet” The first line is highlighted in blue.

9: Yellow text written on a blue background. “tell me once again i could’ve been anyone, anyone else before you made the choice for me.”

10: “And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm is all about.” End ID.]

[serenanymph]

Hey everyone! I'm Serena - you can call me Ser - and my pronouns are she/her. This is the writeblr for @murderousewpecspredator! I'll mostly be reblogging writing resources, advice, inspiration etc. here. I'll also be posting my original fics and art, plus updates and snippets (and occasional screaming) as I work on my wips, so be on the lookout for that!

My works tend to include:

➼ high fantasy (occasionally dabbling in urban fantasy, dystopia or sci-fi) ➼ traumatized teenagers forming found families ➼ characters all flavors of queer + male-female friendships and queerplatonic relationships!! ➼ sad backstories ➼ hurt/comfort. SO much hurt/comfort. but also eventual happy endings where the characters get to live peacefully :) ➼ at least one character who is stubbornly kind in the face of a cruel world ➼ and hope!!! I love hope

Find me on: ao3 | wattpad

I'm looking for more writing mutuals so feel free to reply if you share similar writing genres/interests, and I'll give you a follow!

(works under cut)

WIPS

𝐵𝐸𝒜𝒮𝒯

In a world where monsters live in the woods - creatures with the ability to shift forms and wield magic - humans and Beasts have been fighting for centuries. One summer morning, Crys Averwell finds a crow-boy in the forest who has had his wings brutally hacked off.

Unfortunately, saving him from bleeding out is the easy part - because hiding the existence of a Beast from Crys's village, and finding a way for said Beast to get home?

That's going to be another story entirely.

𝒪𝓇,

My current wip!! High fantasy series with found families, banter™ and protags who aren't the heroes or the chosen ones but are just really, really unlucky. Also contains,

large casts

the Sarcastic Withdrawn one + the Ray of Sunshine Extroverted one

a Journey

undead creatures

cool magic with runes and potions and spells and Artifacts

Forests. and Mountains. and More Forests

discrimination, eventual rebellion, blowing stuff up

Sad Times

𝐵𝑜𝑜𝓀𝓈

➢ Crow Wings (2nd draft complete, 3rd draft to be started somewhere in July or August) ➢ Witch's Book (1st draft in progress) ➢ Untitled book 3, 4 and possible 5

series/book 1 intro, book 2 intro

taglist (lmk if you want to be +/-): @deer-in-headlights-stare, @allianaavelinjackson, @arctic-oceans, @space-writes, @reneesbooks

𝒞𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓊𝓅𝓉𝑒𝒹

It's the start of a new school year, and Sakoto Misami's brother has disappeared. Another runaway, people whisper - but Sami knows her brother isn't like that, knows that Irumi would never abandon them.

So when police fail to track him down, she decides to investigate on her own. And the things she finds begin to make her wonder - had she never known her brother after all?

Her questions are promptly answered when, that Friday night, on a deserted train platform, the lights flicker, and something inhuman comes out of the tunnel. Straight for her.

Enter the Swords.

𝒪𝓇,

The half-defined urban fantasy wip I take out to blow dust off of occasionally, because I cannot juggle for the life of me. I do write snippets sometimes though, and I'll properly get into it sometime in the future. Includes,

Cool Swords

spirit companions

a Weird Magic System involving Threads and Needles and Weaving and Fabric. I swear it makes sense I just haven't figured it out yet

subways!!! alleyways!!! parkours and night views and leaping from rooftop to rooftop!!!

traumatized teens, again, and found family, again. But also actual family

qprs!!! heck yeah I love qprs

Yeah that's pretty much it. I have a handful of other ideas I may mention once in a blue moon, but they're sitting on the backburner for now since I'm only able to focus on one project at a time. I also dabble in fanfic, and might occasionally post a short story or a poem, but that's all gotten to be pretty rare.

I'll make proper pages in a while, but until then feel free to poke around in the main tags! The gen tags are #beast and #corrupted, while official tags are #wip: beast and #wip: corrupted (though the last one is largely empty).

See you around!

-Ser

[gryffindorkxdraws]

I saw your post about a Taylor Swift Jackunzel story (and I jumped lol). Can you do "Everything has Changed"? I saw a sun and moon au vid from Hermuna Moon of yt that used that song. I wonder how'd you do a one-shot on that AU! I'm interested on reading the climax of that story where the Sun and Moon finally meet ^^

Song: Everything Has Changed

Word Count: 721

Summary: What would happen when the sun and moon meet?

Notes: i tried my best to follow your request, but i also wanted to make it a little bit different. just a little bit. but i kept in mind of the reunion and this short thing happened. enjoy! also i didn't edit this aha

video anon mentioned here

Rapunzel has heard stories of the Moon. Or rather, the boy who represents the Moon Kingdom. Every night, he would splatter the dark night into the sky and pull out the twinkles of the stars to accompany it. So the children wouldn’t be scared of the dark, she thought to herself, though she’d love to hear the boy’s own thoughts on it.

What he did was in contrast to hers. Where she represented the Sun Kingdom and threw the light back into the sky. A way to wake nature up and greet the day with a brand new tomorrow. So everyone gets energized to live their life, she giggled to herself, but, again, she’d like to know what the boy thought of it. Of her.

She’s heard so many stories of the boy that she felt like she already knew him. Met him even though they’ve yet to cross paths. It was like her mind had latched onto him, onto this moon boy, and didn’t want to let go. Always needing to be fed with any information she could get of him. She wondered then if the boy ever got curious about her.

Rapunzel snapped out of her thoughts when a rabbit hopped along the field. The sunset over the horizon was beautiful, but sad at the same time. It reminded her that her day time was almost up. But instead of slowly disappearing back into the Sun Kingdom like she normally would, she stayed. She stayed.

Questions undoubtedly ran through her mind as night slowly took over, but her guts told her to start running instead. So she did. Across the field as fast as she could. Towards what? Towards who? She didn’t know. At least until she saw someone running from the other end of the field. A boy with such striking white hair, and eyes so blue she felt she could fly in its hue.

The boy.

Jack.

The boy was Jack all along? Rapunzel held her breath, unable to bring herself to believe it at first.

With just one look at each other, a thousand memories flooded in their head. The very memories they both kept hidden in the dark because their people have told them it was useless to dwell in the past. Once, they were simply a shepherd boy and a princess of the Corona Kingdom from long ago. A shepherd boy and a princess who broke traditions together with their friendship. A friendship that should have lasted a lifetime, but was cut short when the boy drowned in the lake.

And now, here they were.

Both Rapunzel and Jack took a step forward, then another, before immediately making a run for it towards each other. Rapunzel could feel the pull of the Sun Kingdom now, and like hell was she going to disappear before she could reach him. In their last few steps, Rapunzel leaped forward with a yell, her heart bursting at the seams with how full it was from reaching him.

Years and years of mourning for Jack gave her this unnameable weight on her shoulders, and now she felt free of it from this very moment. Jack, on the other hand, thought she had long passed as a human, and to suddenly see her here made his heart full. Of life, of love, of everything he’s ever wished for if given one more chance.

"Jack!"

"Rapunzel!"

The two crashed into each other, their worlds finally, finally colliding, and Jack didn’t want to let her go. Not when he finally has her in his arms. Though he fell backwards from catching her and the two rolled on the field, laughing and crying and everything in between. Until Jack noticed she was fading when she pinned him down.

“I’ll find you again, I promise.” Rapunzel whispered, holding his face with both hands.

“Not if I find you first.” Jack whispered back, smirking as a way to make her smile, and she did.

He sat up and held her close before pulling her in for one more hug, breathing her in like she smelled of sunshine and flowers (she did). As Rapunzel slowly faded away just as the sunset was closing in on fully setting for the night sky to take over, the two made promises to find a way to meet once more.

[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!!