#if i figure out four more songs that fit i make the playlist. simple as that

[kanerallels]

While I recognize there aren't many Ashtown Burials fans on this website (a fact I shall change someday), I still need to inform the world that "Born To Run" by American Authors is Cyrus Smith's theme song

[bqstqnbruin]

Aerosmith

Alright, y'all: here's that fic that I'm low key scared no one is going to read that has taken me a few months to write, a Trent x single mom!reader fic

It's a long one, with the Bruin's feral little fighty boy from St. Louis, around 13.3k words. The songs listed as the headers of each section are all by Aerosmith, each part partially inspired by the song (hence the name of the fic)

Shoutout to @toplinetommy for helping me with this the entire time and being my beta AND to @chara-hugs for letting me bounce ideas off of you and talking through what I was thinking of. Love you lots 💛

I hope people like this

___________

Just Push Play

Considering how much was happening around you at the bar your friends had dragged you to, the only thing that could keep your attention was your phone. It was the only thing, at this point, that you would allow to keep your attention. You had no desire to be there. Part of you wanted your phone to start buzzing, anything that would give you an excuse for you to leave, but the other part of you knew that something bad had to happen in order for you to leave. Every second that you stayed was costing you more money and less time being where you wanted to be.

“Hey, Y/N, put the phone away. This is your first night out in, like, years,” Molly tells you.

“Four years. Maybe five?” you guess.

“Six years, exactly,” she wrongly says, earning a disappointed head shake from you, a small ‘no’ escaping your lips that goes ignored as she takes your hand that’s holding the phone. “Can we please just enjoy tonight and have some fun? He’s going to be fine.”

You take in a deep breath, almost sure she was right about that. You hadn’t had a night to yourself in years, and Molly was also almost right that this was your first one in over four years. Actually, given the timeline, it was probably more like five. “But what if something happens?” you ask, the natural worry and constant fear you felt taking over your ability to just enjoy the night.

“If something, anything happens, you’ll be able to feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, and I will go home with you to take care of it,” she reassures you, playing around with the settings on your phone. She hands it back to you, pulling you up from the table you had yet to move from in the first place. “He’s fine. He always is. Why don’t you request a song?”

“Because you keep telling me you hate my music.”

“Well, that’s because you have the same music taste as your sixty-something-year-old father when you’re a twenty-something-year-old woman.”

“You don’t even know how old I am? We’re the same age.” Molly rolls her eyes at you, dragging you up to the line of people to request songs, a book sitting there with the songs you could request. “They’re not going to have anything I like,” you tell her as the line behind you gets longer.

“Don’t you listen to that one guy?” she starts.

“That could mean anything. Have I told you lately that you are the most unhelpful person I know?” you snap at her, trying to find anything in your Spotify that you could request as the line got shorter and shorter in front of you. “What about this song?” you ask, your finger hovering over someone from one of your Daily Mixes. Molly looks over your shoulder at your phone, shaking her head at your song choice, and every song choice that you suggested. “I’m just going back to the table, you’re being impossible.”

Before she can protest, you turn around and head back to your table, sitting off to the side away from the rest of your friends, your eyes glued to your phone. At this point, you were praying that you would get a message from Rachel asking you to come home, telling you that something was wrong. Even something as simple as she had to leave unexpectedly so you could, too. Anything so that you could leave sooner rather than later.

“Sorry, but you really couldn’t find a song in that book?” you hear a guy's voice, tearing you away from the screen. He sits down next to you, not too close that it was uncomfortable but just close enough that you could smell his cologne, covering the smell of beer that had been lingering in the air around you. “There was some Aerosmith in there, I have a feeling that’s the closest to something you’d enjoy,” he says, smiling at you.

He must have been in the group that was in line behind you, hearing your conversation with Molly. Regardless, you smile back at him, something about his own being so infectious that you couldn’t help but mirror his expression. “Well, you’re right, but it depends on what Aerosmith song,” you respond, a hint of flirting in your voice.

“Is there a bad one?”

“No, but there are some superior ones,” you tell him, his eyebrow cocked as a sign to get you to explain. “Sweet Emotion is great but not as good as their cover of Come Together. Dream On and I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing are easily, in my opinion, their best songs.”

“Is that up for debate?”

“Oh, you think their most popular songs aren’t their best?”

“I think the one that’s about to play is one of their best,” the guy says, both of you pausing as there’s a lull in the music, the chatter and screaming of the bar’s drunk patrons overtaking everything.

“Just Push Play?” you ask, a smile on your face. It wasn’t one of their most well-known songs, but you still had to admit it was an underrated one.

The boy shrugs, a smirk on his face. “I might have requested it so you’ll have a reason to dance with me,” he flirts, getting up and extending his hand for you to join him.

You hesitate, unsure if you should get up with this mystery man standing in front of you. There was something about him that you couldn’t figure out. He looked young, probably younger than you but looks can be deceiving, nevertheless telling you that there was some sort of innocence or naivety to him, but the obviously fit physique under his clothing telling you that he could and would break your heart in a moment if he had to, the time leading up to that would be like nothing you had experienced before. You didn’t have time or the energy to spend on something you knew would lead to heartbreak, but you felt like you wanted to, like you had to. “I’m not sure I can dance with someone whose name I don’t even know.”

“I’m Trent,” he says, taking your hand and guiding you away from the table. You introduce yourself as his hands snake their way around your waist, holding you close enough that you could feel his heart starting to race against your own chest as your hands met the skin at the back of his neck, your fingers grazing along the collar of the back of his shirt, the two of you not moving at all in sync with the faster beat of the song. Not that you cared. There was something about this boy you were talking to talk to over the music that made you completely disregard the movement around you, forgetting about your phone and what was waiting for you at home for the first time in nearly five years.

You danced for what felt like forever, for what you wanted to last forever, every song passing you by as he listed out song after song that he recognized, most of them country as he claimed he had a country playlist that went on for seven hours, all of them involving him trying to sing bits and pieces of the lyrics off-key, every time pulling a laugh from you.

“I don’t know what I like more,” he starts, resting his forehead against yours as the space between the two of you disappeared, “the music they’re playing or your laugh.”

You roll your eyes, a smile on your face as the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Those lines usually don’t work on me.”

“But?” he asks, his lips ghosting yours.

“But from you, they do,” you tell him, planting your lips on his before he has the chance to say anything else. You didn’t know what it was about Trent; you were never the one to make the first move, you barely interacted with guys at this point since your life was permanently hectic. But Trent was something else. You don’t know what Trent was, you just knew he was different.

His hands were on your back, finding their way to your waist, his grip tightening when you feel someone tap your shoulder. You pull away, a pout on Trent’s face as you turn around to see Molly, waving your phone in your face. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Oh, shoot!” you squeal, taking your phone. “I’m sorry, I have to get home.”

A confused look covers Trent’s face. “Is your Uber going to turn into a pumpkin if you aren’t home, Cinderella?”

You laugh at his joke, going back to your table to grab your stuff. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat, “But I really have to get home.”

“Let me walk you.”

You stop in your tracks as you were rushing out the door. You never brought a guy anywhere near your apartment, knowing that most of them would want to go in, most of them would want to sleep with you if you invited them, most of them would be gone by morning when they found out why you didn’t want them there in the first place. You don’t know why you knew Trent would be different. “No, you don’t have to,” you tell him, instead, even though you wish you could bring him home with you.

Before he can answer, someone calls out his name, pulling the two of you away from each other’s attention. “Trent, we’re leaving.”

Trent looks between you and his friend, the group of guys aggregating around him as they wait for his answer.

“You don’t have to,” you repeat, trying to get out the door because you had to.

“Jack, give me a minute,” Trent calls to his friends, “I want to,” he tells you, taking your arm, turning you towards him. The look in his eyes was sincere, begging you to let him walk you home. “Please?”

You let out a sigh, caving in even though you knew you shouldn’t. “Fine, yeah. Let’s go,” you tell him, taking his hand and leading him out of the bar, his friends left without an answer as they watched the two of you walk away.

Come Together

“I’ve had a really great night. Sorry about my friends, though” Trent apologizes to you again. He explained that he had gone out with them after their game that night, supposed to be spending their off-day tomorrow together, but Trent leaving with you had seemingly changed those plans. As the two of you walked and talked on the way back, his hand never left yours, from the time you left the bar to now standing outside your door. He pulls you in for another kiss, the worries of what was on the other side of the door melting away. You wanted to invite him in, but you weren’t sure if he would even want to once he found out.

Your door opens, Rachel stepping out. “Sorry, it’s almost curfew.”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” you tell her, Trent confused by the girl sneaking out of your apartment. “That was Rachel. She’s my babysitter.”

“Babysitter?”

You could feel your face twisting involuntarily at his question. You knew you should have told him before you got home, it would have been easier leaving him at the bar than watching him walk away from you outside your door. Why did you even let him walk you home in the first place? Because he’s hot and you’re dumb, that’s why. “I have a four-year-old son. If you wanted to leave, I would understand. Most guys do when I tell them about Ben,” you spit out, not making eye contact with him. You weren’t ashamed of your son, you just knew people your age got weirded out and panicked at the thought of the responsibility that came with having a child.

He tilts your head up, his eyes flicking between your own and your lips, a lazy smile on his face. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Do you want to stay?”

“If you’ll have me,” he says, kissing you yet again. You bring him inside, showing him Ben’s room first. The two of you stand in the doorway, his arms wrapped around your waist as you lean against the door frame. You feel him kiss the back of your head as you watch Ben wriggle in his sheets before settling down, you taking Trent’s hand and leading him down to your room. You tell him that you don’t want to do anything because of Ben being so close, Trent giving you a sweet smile, kissing you before settling next to you in bed. You had no idea why, but it all felt so domestic, so right that he was there with you in that moment.

“Can I ask you something?” his voice pierces the silence that had fallen between you.

“Sure.”

“Why didn’t you mention Ben before?”

You swallow hard. You weren’t ashamed of having Ben, something you found yourself repeating in your mind every time you told a guy about your son. He was the best part of your life. Everything you did was for him. “We’re young. Being a single mom at our age has such a stigma around it. When guys find out, they normally bolt. I didn’t want you to until the last possible second.” You turn to him, still able to make out his features in the dark, the pout that was forming on his face visible without anything lighting him up.

“You could have told me before we got here,” he says, pain in his voice as he reaches for your face, the pad of his thumb gently grazing over your cheek. “I don’t care if you have a kid. I mean, I do, Ben is part of who you are. But, I would have understood. I understand. You shouldn’t be afraid of telling someone about that part of you. What I know about you so far is pretty amazing, I can only imagine what Ben brings to the table.”

“That seems weirdly out of character for what I know about you,” you tease him, pulling a smile from him.

“Well, maybe, but even a stopped clock is right twice a day, right?”

You kiss him, a feeling of relief washing over you at his words. The two of you spend the rest of the night telling each other about yourselves, keeping quiet for Ben, despite the amount of laughter you let you. You couldn’t remember the last time a guy made you feel so happy, falling asleep with a smile on your face, his arms wrapped around your waist as if that’s where they belonged.

You wake up the next morning, the sun shining into your room, but no Trent. You get out of bed, probably figuring that he had left in the middle of the night, trying to spare your feelings about you having a son. You understood. What guy really wants to get into a relationship with a single mom at this age?

You go to check on Ben, opening the door to his bedroom to find that he wasn’t in his room. You started to panic at the sight of his empty bed, unmade with his blankets in disarray. If Trent was gone, and Ben was gone, where could they be? He wouldn’t kidnap your son, would he? He was a professional athlete, that’s not something he would do, right? Your panic starts to recede when you hear laughter coming from the kitchen.

Trent is standing at the stove, spatula in hand with eggs cooking on the stove, a piece of bread held up to his face with holes bitten out of it where his eyes are, making Ben shriek with laughter. “Sorry. I heard him get up and I didn’t want to wake you, so I started making breakfast. Is that ok?”

You can’t help but smile, going over to Ben. “How’s he doing so far?”

“Mommy, look! French toast!” Ben says, pointing excitedly to the cut-up pieces of bread on his plate.

“French toast?” you repeat, your eyes wide to play along with his excitement. “Give me a bite,” you tell him, opening your mouth as he picks up a piece with his fingers, nearly missing your mouth. You hear Trent laugh, you not containing your own.

You go over to Trent, leaning into him as the two of you watch Ben eat the food Trent made. You feel him kiss the top of your head, his fingers dancing up and down along your arm. You look at his hand, a bandaid on the back of his hand. “What happened to you here?”

“Oh, oops,” he says, looking at his hand. “Got a little cut, but don’t worry, it’s not bad. Dr. Ben here fixed me right up,” he tells you, going over to Ben and ruffling his hair.

Trent hands you a plate of french toast and eggs, pouring you a cup of coffee, kissing you in front of Ben, who either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. No guy had ever stayed the night, let alone stayed and made breakfast for the two of you the next morning.

“So, what were you two talking about before I joined?” you ask, taking another bite of the French Toast. You already knew it was good from what Ben gave you, but you were still devouring it.

“Bears, boots, and battles of galaxias,” Ben lets out, his full mouth spraying crumbs everywhere.

“I’ve been trying to make sense of that all morning. I have no idea what he means. Why does that sound familiar?” Trent asks, sitting down next to you, his hand on your thigh under the table, sending a chill through your entire body as his fingers lazily traced an unknown pattern on your skin.

You take a sip of the coffee he had handed you, setting down your cup and putting your hand on top of his under the table. “He saw that one part of the Office, the identity theft cold opening, where Jim says, ‘Bears, beets, Battlestar Galactica?’ That’s how he remembered it,” you explain, Trent looking over to your son who was fixated on the food in front of him.

“Benny,” Trent calls him, your entire body going numb hearing him call him the same nickname you used for your son, “do you like bears?”

“Bears are the coolest!” he squeals. Everything he saw with a bear on it, he would start begging you to buy him, your heart breaking from the look on his face when you had to tell him no, we don’t need the kitchen towel just because it has a bear on it.

“Can you do your best bear impression for Mom and I?” You felt your heart skip at the sound of Trent calling referring to you as just ‘Mom’ instead of ‘your mom,’ like he was already part of the family. You didn’t even hear Ben growling, his best attempt at being the ‘scary’ Baby Bear that he was just laughing along with Trent.

“Hey, buddy, what if I called you Benny Bear from now on? Do you like that?” Trent asks, Ben nodding excitedly at his nickname.

“You’re nice,” Ben says to Trent while he clears his plate, Ben running off to go play.

You look at Trent, not able to help how you were beaming at him getting along so well with your son. It was like he belonged there with you, and with Ben, making his presence that much better. “That means he likes you.”

“Not trying to pry,” Trent starts, standing beside you at the sink while you wash the dishes, “But how often does he like the guys you bring home?”

You bite your bottom lip, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “I almost never bring guys home. And when I do, he generally doesn’t talk to them.”

“So he likes me,” he starts, getting closer to you as you nod your head. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you away from the sink. “How about you?”

“That depends,” you flirt, stretching to turn the sink off before draping your arm on his shoulders, twirling his hair through your fingers at the nape of his neck, “do you like me?”

He lets out a small laugh, pulling you in for a kiss. “I do.”

“I like you, too. Help me finish cleaning up and then we’ll go watch Ben, ok?”

The two of you wash dishes in silence, weirdly domestic and comfortable considering you knew this boy all of twelve hours. “Can I ask you something?” Trent breaks the silence, just as he did the night before.

“Sure.”

“Where’s Ben’s dad?” You take in a deep breath, knowing that this would have come up eventually. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he continues, a wash of panic over his face at the thought of asking something too personal too soon.

You shake your head, smiling at him to try to calm him down. “No, no, that’s fine. Um, we were together when we were in college, but we broke up. I started feeling like shit so I went to the doctor and she told me, ‘Congrats! You’re two months pregnant!’”

“Does he know about Ben?” Trent asks quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, he does. I told him when I found out because I knew Ben was his. I told him that I was going to keep the baby and since we weren’t together anymore, he had the choice of either being present and helping out or if he didn’t want the responsibility, then that was fine, too.”

He didn’t know what about the way you were talking was making him feel this way. A lump in his throat was forming looking at your eyes start to shine with the threat of tears while you refused to make eye contact with him. You rarely talked about Ben’s father, making the decision a long time ago that he wasn’t worth your time thinking about since he didn’t want much to do with his own son. “And he didn’t?”

“He sends a present to Ben on his birthdays and Christmas, but other than that nothing really. I’m not even sure if Ben’s made the connection between the presents and his father yet. Like I said, though, I gave him the choice.”

“Do you regret anything?”

“I could never regret Ben or anything with him. I almost regret giving his father the choice, though. Being a parent isn’t easy, even if you have someone to take up half the work, but it’s even harder when it’s just you by yourself, you know? And I’ve gotten help, but it would be different if Ben had his dad as a constant in his life. Ben’s only seen him a few times, anyway. He calls him Andy instead of dad, and it’s just,” you stop, trying to find the word, “heartbreaking seems too severe, seeing him not acknowledge his dad as his dad, but what can you do?”

Trent didn’t know what to say. He was practically still a child himself when you really look at him. He couldn’t imagine having his own at this point in his life, let alone raising one on his own. “I’m sorry,” is all he can get out, trying not to cry even though he could hear Ben’s laughter ringing from the other room, sending a weird sense of joy through him at the same time.

“No, it’s fine. I would rather do this alone than do this with someone who didn’t want Ben to begin with. You can’t be a parent if you aren’t all in.”

He had no idea why, but he already felt so connected to Ben. There was no reason why, but he did. “I’m in.”

You turn back to him, shocked, confused, not even sure if you heard what he said properly. “What?”

“I’m in with you. With Ben. If you’ll let me. I want to see you again, keep seeing you. And that includes Ben. He already likes me, after all.” Trent was used to making snap decisions, on the ice, off the ice, wherever. He knew this was one, but this one felt like his best one.

“You don’t have to, you have your own life with hockey and everything,” you try to insist, cut off by Trent’s lips connecting with yours.

“I want to. Let’s go play with Ben.”

Angel

“Are you sure this is safe?” you ask him for what was probably the millionth time, getting out of his car in front of the rink.

He runs around to get Ben out of his car seat, you grabbing the stuff he had stashed in the trunk. “Yes, I promise it is. The guys bring their kids all the time and they’re way younger than Ben.” He had invited you and Ben to the family skate the team was having, you reluctant to go since Ben had never been skating before. Naturally, you were worried he would get hurt, either by falling down or being curious about the skate and somehow cutting himself, something you were sure he would do if given the chance.

You two had been together for about a month, Ben falling head over heels for Trent, jumping up and down whenever he saw him on TV. Much to your dismay, Ben loved it when Trent was fighting, begging you to let him play hockey so he could fight just like Trent. You loved taking videos of his excitement despite that fear of him skating and fighting like Trent, sending them to him to see during the game, Trent always making sure to FaceTime you the next afternoon when you got home from work if you two couldn’t meet up so that he could talk to Ben. He was acting like the dad Ben never had.

And that was terrifying to you. The thought of you and Trent breaking up and him suddenly leaving Ben’s life was the reason why you never got close with a guy before. You didn’t want Ben to go through that. You didn’t want to go through that.

But there you were, sitting rinkside at the Garden as you tried to tie up the skates that Trent got for Ben, his feet swinging back and forth in excitement no matter how much you tried to get him to stop for a moment.

“Are you excited, Benny Bear?” Trent asks, picking him up and walking out to the ice.

“Yeah!” he says, squirming around and clearly ready to go.

You weren’t sure if you were more nervous about Ben being on the ice for the first time, Trent already showing him how to skate, or you formally meeting all his teammates for the first time, that night at the bar not really counting. The three of you step onto the ice, Ben in between you two, practically swinging in the air as you both held his hands while you skate.

“You’re nervous?” Trent asks, reading the expression on your face.

“They look like they didn’t know about Ben.” You saw the looks you were getting from the guys' families as you and Trent were skating around with Ben between you. You knew they were looks of confusion, but you couldn't help but think that they were the same looks when you went out with Ben in general, the societal disapproval of being a young mother, no ring on that finger to show that this was planned with another parent on the other side. People were judgemental; it was in their nature, but you were hoping Trent’s teammates were accepting like Trent had been.

“Um, I guess I didn’t tell them? I didn’t think I needed to,” he says, looking down at your son. Ben was beaming, not paying attention to what you two were talking about, not that he would probably understand it if he was. Trent didn’t think it would be a big deal to have your son around. The guys knew he was seeing you, but was it really that big a deal that you have Ben? He looks over at you, the scared look that was on your face worrying him. “We can just tell him he’s your nephew or your little brother?” he whispers so Ben doesn’t hear.

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. You don’t seem to want them to know he’s your son?”

You stop skating, pulling Trent over to the side while holding onto Ben’s hand as he begs to pull away and take a lap on his own, something you weren’t going to let him do. “I told you I’m not ashamed of Ben,” you hiss at him.

“I’m not saying that you are. I’m just saying if you’re scared of what people would think we could just tell them something else.”

You look at him for a moment, trying to properly process his words. “Am I scared of what people think, or are you?”

He steps back, careful not to fall on whoever's kid was zooming past him at that moment, Ben begging to go skate with him. “Hey, Zach,” he calls Patrice’s son over. “If he takes Ben is that ok?”

You knew you shouldn’t say yes, but you didn’t need Ben hearing this conversation, no matter how oblivious he might have been to begin with. “If you trust him, fine.”

“Zach,” Trent starts, crouching down to their level, his hands on Ben’s shoulders so he can’t skate away before he’s done, “Can you take care of my guy Ben here? Make sure he doesn’t fall? Go skate to your dad.” Zach and Ben practically rush off with each other to Zach’s dad, eager to skate around and surprisingly good for their age. “What do you mean I’m scared?”

“Who’s the one suggesting that we don’t tell your teammates that Ben is my son? We’ve been out together when people ask if he’s my brother, my nephew, if I’m his nanny, and every single time you’ve seen me correct them. I told you I’m not ashamed of Ben. And to come here and have everyone giving us looks because they’re trying to figure out who he is to you makes it seem like you are. You couldn’t even tell the guys you claim are like your family about Ben. He’s not old enough for that hurt, but I am.”

He looks down at the ice, shuffling back and forth on his skates. “I’m sorry.”

You move closer to him, tempted to reach out and hold him. He looked just as hurt as you felt, part of you glad that he was actually showing he was sympathetic instead of just saying it. “Are you ashamed of Ben?”

His head snaps to you, a look of disbelief on his face. He starts shaking his head, the curls on his head that were loose enough going wild with his movement. “I’m crazy about that kid. I know why you aren’t ashamed of him because I don’t think I could ever be.” Trent turns around to find Ben on the ice, skating around with the other kids, some of the guys playing a small game with them, Ben with his own little stick. He watches Ben score on whoever was playing goalie, Ben shrieking with joy. Trent couldn’t help but smile, turning to you. “He means more to me than I thought someone else's child could.”

“Then why didn’t you tell them about Ben?” you ask him.

He shrugs, sticking out his bottom lip. “Because I’m dumb.”

You can’t help but laugh, hooking your fingers in his belt loops to pull him close to you. “Well, I do call you a stupid muppet,” you joke, earning a groan from him, “Hey, I say it with affection and you did say I could call you that.”

He cups your face and kisses you, momentarily forgetting his teammates and their families around you. “We could go tell them now?” he suggests, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Do you want to?”

Trent starts skating over to the rest of the guys, Ben giggling and playing with the rest of the kids. The two of you start talking to his teammates, introducing yourself to Jack and Jeremy, keeping your eye on Ben while he plays as you wait for Trent to finally say something about him.

“Trent! Trent!” Ben’s voice tears you two away from the conversation. “I’m you!” he yells, using the stick to try to shoot the puck, instead missing the puck and falling down on the ice. He was trying to process what just happened, hopefully not meaning to do what he did.

You look at Trent’s face, his teammates laughing while his face turned red. Ben shoots back up and starts skating again, Trent beaming at him. “That was cold,” he says to you, a smile on his face anyway.

“You know he didn’t mean it,” you tell him, squeezing his bicep before skating over to your son. You lift him up off the ice, thankful that he was still small enough to do that as you kiss his cheek and skate around with just him for a bit.

Trent couldn’t take his eyes off you, his teammates doing everything they could to try to peel his attention away from you. He watched you interact with Ben, the same light in your eyes when he looked at your son.

“Dude?” Jack finally succeeds in bringing Trent back down to Earth, “is that her brother?”

Trent shakes his head, turning back to you. “Nope, that’s her son.”

“Son? What are you thinking?” Jack asked. He knew what he meant. Trent was young. You were young. Having a kid was something real adults did, not whatever definition of adult he fell under.

Trent shrugs, watching you and Ben laugh and smile as you skated around, talking with some of the guys' girlfriends as they coo over Ben. “I’ve been better since I started seeing her.”

“You were fine before you started seeing her,” one of them mumbles.

He rolls his eyes, turning back to them. “Come on. I was fine but I wasn’t great. All I did was punch a few guys and get a couple of secondary assists. Even Butch said something about my play last game. Everything in my life is better with Y/N in it. And Ben.”

He didn’t hear what the guys were saying, and honestly, he didn’t care either. He loved your son, probably not as much as you did, but he felt like he was getting there. He wanted to get there.

Because he loved you.

Dream On

“Where are you?” Molly's voice comes through your phone, panicked and irritated. “I thought you were coming in today?”

“What are you talking about? Today’s my day off.” You were at home, sitting on the couch with the tv playing in the background while Ben played with his toys in front of you. It was one of the rare days that you could spend from the time you woke up until you went to sleep with your son, and you had no real intention of changing those plans, which is what it sounded like Molly was going to ask you to do.

“Well, you know that funding we secured for that new project?”

“Yeah?” you say, Ben coming up to you, trying to show you something. “Hold on, Benny. What’s going on, Mol?”

“They’re getting cold feet.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, we need you here. You and DeAndre were the ones who got them in the first place, and he’s already here. Please?”

You take in a deep breath, trying to figure out if anyone is free to watch Ben. You couldn’t bring him in and have him running around the office while you were trying to convince a major investor to give you the money promised. “I have to find a babysitter but I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you sigh, wracking your brain as to who would be free. Rachel couldn’t typically do weekends, but maybe she could if you promised to pay her extra? But then there was the issue of: did you have the money to pay her extra?

You start scrolling through your contacts, trying to figure out if anyone in there would be able to watch your son, running into your room to get changed to look at least a little presentable.

Trent’s name pops up, calling you with what you hoped would be somewhat perfect timing. “Hey, babe, what’s up?” you answer, your phone on your bed as you try to find something to wear.

“What am I looking at?”

“I’m changing for work and my phone is on my bed, so the ceiling.”

“I thought it was your day off?” he asks as you throw what seemed to be the only clean work shirt that you could find. You knew you were forgetting to do something today, now you realized it was laundry.

“Molly called saying that I need to go in and now I have to find someone to watch Ben or else I’m going to have to bring him in with me, which doesn’t seem like a good idea. And most of my friends are from work or have their own lives and can’t watch him, Rachel can’t do weekends, but I guess I could ask her if she has any friends who could watch him last minute.”

“Y/N.”

“But then I have to pay them and since it’s so last minute I would need to give them more money, right?”

“Y/N.”

“I guess I could, but I think I would also have to pay for meals, and then I have no idea what time I’m going to get home, and whenever that is I’m going to have to do laundry, and-”

“Hey. Earth to Y/N. I can watch him,” Trent finally cuts you off long enough to get a word in.

You were hesitant; Trent had never been left alone with Ben, and probably never left alone with a four-year-old ever by your assumptions. “No, no, I can’t ask you to do that,” you tell him, picking up your phone to see him.

“I’m serious! You just said you need a babysitter, I was going to ask if I could come over and see you before the road trip, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, biting your lip. Did you trust Trent enough to let him watch and take care of Ben? If you could trust Rachel, a girl who still had a curfew and couldn’t even drive her friends in the same car as her, why couldn’t you trust your boyfriend?

“Of course!” he says, clearly getting up and walking around what you think was his apartment. “I’m leaving right now, I’ll be there in ten.”

He hangs up and leaves you to finish getting ready, hurrying through trying to make yourself look presentable and finding the stuff that you needed. You couldn’t find your work bag, or your computer, mentally cursing yourself for the one time you didn’t leave it in your closet like you normally did.

“Hey, Benny? Have you seen Mommy’s computer and bag?” you go into your living room to where you left Ben. He shakes his head, his overall attention not leaving whichever toy he was fixated on. “Great,” you mutter under your breath, trying to find it. “Ben, how about you and I play a game?” you ask him, getting down in front of him. “If you can help me find my blue bag and my computer, someone really special will come over tonight!”

Ben gets up and starts looking for you, hoping that you can find it before Trent actually gets to your place. “Mommy! I found it!” Ben comes running to you, your bag nearly as big as him as he struggles to carry it to you.

You take it from him, kissing his head as he goes running off, a knock at your door just in time. Opening it, you see Trent on the other side, a bag in his hand. Kissing him hello, you tell him, “I owe you big time.”

“We can discuss payment when you get home. And I have some ideas as to how you could pay me,” he says, bringing you in for a kiss.

“Trent!” Ben runs over, interrupting.

Trent practically launches himself off you, picking up Ben and hugging him while your son’s laughter and happiness fill your home. “Benny Bear!” He gives Ben the bag, telling him to open it.

“A bear!” Ben jumps up and down with the small stuffed animal that Trent had gotten him.

“What does a bear say?” Trent asks, both of them going, “grrrrr,” with their hands curled like claws, their faces scrunched. You felt yourself melting at the sight of Trent getting along so well with Ben, your son running around in circles with his new toy that he would probably say is his favorite since it came from Trent.

“Did you buy him a Benny Bear?” you gush, bringing him in for a hug.

“I saw it when I was on the road and had to get it for the little guy.”

“You love him,” you tell him, not needing to ask since you already knew what his answer would be if you did.

“Of course. But you have to get to work,” he tells you, pushing you off him.

“I’ll pay you for whatever you get for dinner, order what you want, within reason for him.”

“You don’t have to pay me back, and I’ll make sure to get him lots of candy,” he jokes, earning a look from you. “I’m joking,” he says, throwing his hands up in defense. “Go, go to work. I’ve got this.”

“If you need anything call me, or even one of the guys who have kids. If you trust them, I’ll trust them.” You kiss him again, yell goodbye to your son and remind him to behave for Trent. You were nervous about leaving Ben alone with him, but if you wanted to be serious about this guy, you had to do it at some point, right?

You close the door, leaving Ben and Trent alone on the other side as you try to think about how you and DeAndre can now keep your investors from pulling money, practically running down the hall so that you can get to your car.

Trent turns around, Ben already sitting back down on the floor and playing away with his toys. He had no idea how to watch a four-year-old. He takes in a deep breath, sitting on the ground with Ben, his back leaning up against your couch. “Alright, Benny, what do you want to do?”

Ben hands Trent a toy, starting to ramble on about whatever magical world he’s conjured up that Trent was no part of. He had no idea what he was doing, trying to follow along with your son’s imagination as best as he could.

Trent didn’t know how you did it. Ben was a ball of energy all the time, and at home seemed to be no exception. Trent was chasing him around as they played ‘Bear catcher,’ which Trent wasn’t really sure the rules of in the first place, just following around your four-year-old through your apartment while he sprinted, jumped, hid, crawled, and did every other action that Trent felt too old for.

Ben finally sits down and focuses on the tv when he hears some song coming from it, the first moments that Trent can sit down as well, hoisting himself onto the cushions. His phone starts buzzing, a call from Jack coming in. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What are you doing right now?” Jack’s voice comes through the phone as Ben gets up again, starting to run around with the bear Trent bought him.

“I’m watching Ben.”

“Since when are you a babysitter?” Jack asks, judgment dripping in his voice.

“Since Y/N needed a babysitter and I was free.” Ben climbs up on the couch and starts jumping, Trent suddenly feeling a wash of panic over him at the thought of Ben falling and getting hurt. Jack starts saying something that Trent knew he didn’t want to hear anyway, giving him the perfect excuse to cut him off. “Hey, Ben, you’ve gotta be careful. Sorry, dude, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

He hangs up before Jack can get another word in. “Hey, Benny. Mom said we could order dinner,” he says, pulling Ben into his lap in hopes that he would calm down long enough so he could talk to him. Ben squirms as his energy never seems to stop, Trent doing everything he can to try to figure this out. “What sounds good to you?”

“Ice cream!”

Trent lets out a small laugh, Ben’s face glowing at the thought of ice cream for dinner. “No, bud, you can’t have ice cream for dinner.”

“Ice cream! Ice cream!” Ben wriggles free of Trent’s grasp, repeating the phrase over and over again as he sets off running around again.

Trent was way in over his head. He didn’t think that Ben would have this much energy for this long. Whenever he was with you, it was either during the day and Ben stayed relatively calm, or when you were playing, he had you to help counteract and keep Ben from being the seemingly crazy child that he was right now. He could call you and ask what to do, but from how you sounded on the phone and when he came over, you were way too stressed out to also have to worry about Ben at that moment. He could call one of his teammates who actually knew what they were doing when it came to child care, but Jack’s words from the family skate practically haunted him. He wasn’t in too over his head when he was with you, or when he was with you and Ben. But just Ben? Not going too well.

“Benny Bear, come here,” Trent says, reaching out to catch Ben as he runs by the couch. “How about, we get something else to eat, and if you eat all of it, I’ll get you ice cream?” he asks, making a mental note to at least text you to ask if it was ok that he have it. Ben nods his head since Trent technically said he could have ice cream. “What do you want?”

“Mac and cheese!”

“What about,” he starts, pulling out his phone. “Some chicken fingers?” Something told him cheese and ice cream wasn’t going to end well for Ben’s stomach that night, and by default, it wasn’t going to end well for Trent, either.

Ben nods, going back off and running around the room. He had to tire out at some point, right?

“Hello?” you answer your phone, Trent calling you to make sure his dinner plans were ok.

“Hey, Ben said he wanted ice cream, but I told him only if he eats his dinner, and I had to make sure it was alright with you, first.”

“What did you settle on?”

“Chicken fingers?”

He hears someone calling your name in the background, you yelling something back to them in panic. “Yeah, there might be some in the freezer? If not, just tell him that the ice cream fairy is coming later and he can have it tomorrow, or something. There are also some carrots in the fridge, too. Tell him he has to eat some of those if he wants ice cream, even if I don’t have any. Have some with him, pretend they’re spaceships, and play with them before you eat them, that normally distracts him long enough.”

“That works?”

“Trent, he’s four. Most things like that do.” He hears more yelling from your end, Ben coming zooming by him yet again, nearly tripping over Trent’s feet. “I’ve gotta run. Love you, bye.”

You hang up before Trent can react. You hadn’t told each other that you loved the other yet. He knew he loved you, but he didn’t know if you loved him back. But you just said it, and he didn’t even know if you meant it since you said it in such a hurried context. He hoped you meant it. He can’t even focus while he’s ordering dinner, not really sure what he was having other than the carrots you mentioned were in the fridge.

Trent just sits there while he waits for the food to arrive, getting the carrots out and trying to see if there was anything close to ice cream, or even yogurt that he could throw in the freezer for Ben while he continues to zoom around your apartment. “Hey, Benny, look!” he says, holding up the carrots. “Spaceships!”

This felt like he was talking to a dog, which seemed weird, but at this rate, Ben was tiring him out so fast he didn’t know what to do. He and Ben start playing with the carrots, watching your son eat what was in front of him when the doorbell rang for food.

Ben keeps playing with food, something Trent thought you probably wouldn’t like too much, but at this point, he didn’t know if he should care. He had no idea how you did this. There was no way Ben had this much energy every night, right? He had never seen you exhausted, so Ben couldn’t be a ball of energy all the time. At least, that’s what he convinced himself as he sat there eating his food.

Eventually, Ben goes to sleep, Trent helping get him ready for bed and tucking him in. You had texted that you weren’t sure when you were going to be home, but Trent was free to stay the night instead of driving back home regardless of what time you would be back, something he gladly took you up on.

Trent finally settles down after finding a pair of sweats he left at your place a while ago, collapsing onto the couch in complete exhaustion from Ben’s running.

“Trent?” he hears Ben’s small voice coming from down the hall, pulling Trent away from the trance he fell in trying to stay awake until you got home. “Trent!”

He runs down the hall at the sound of the increased panic in your son’s voice, not sure what he was supposed to expect when he practically burst through his bedroom door. “Buddy, what’s wrong?”

Ben was breathing heavily when Trent got close to his bed, clutching his sheets to his chest, “I had a bad dream.”

Trent sits down on Ben’s bed, a sad smile on his face. “Ah, Benny, it’s all over now. You’re safe.” Ben nods his head, a terrified look still on his face. He pulls Ben in for a hug, kissing the top of his head, Ben’s small arms wrapping around Trent’s own. “How about I read you a story to help you fall asleep?”

Ben nods, jumping out of bed and getting a book for Trent. “Goodnight Lab?” Trent reads, a confused look on his face.

“Mommy likes science,” Ben offers as his explanation.

“Of course she does,” he says, opening the book, putting his arm around your son as Ben cuddles up against Trent’s chest. “In the great green lab, there was a laser, and a lab notebook, and a picture of Einstein with a stern look,” he starts, already seeing Ben’s eyes getting heavy.

You finally get back home, seeing the light on, no one in the living room. Wandering through your apartment, you hear Trent’s voice coming from Ben’s room, finding him there with your son, him asleep against Trent’s chest as he whispers the end of the book to him, “Goodnight liquid nitrogen, goodnight compressed air, goodnight scientists everywhere.”

You stand in the doorway, Trent not noticing you as he slips himself from Ben, your son curling up with his blankets. Trent bends down to kiss him on the head, tiptoeing out of the room.

“Hi,” you whisper, closing Ben’s door behind you, giving Trent a kiss hello. “What was that?”

“He had a nightmare, so I read him a story to calm him down and get him back to sleep,” he explains.

“That’s so sweet of you,” you tell him, leading him down the hall to your room.

He shrugs, closing the door behind you. “My mom used to do it for me and my siblings. I always told myself that I would do it for my son or daughter.” You don’t know what to say, just pulling him in for a kiss, down on your bed. He pulls away, a smile on his face, “Oh, and I love you too,” he tells you, hoping that Ben didn’t wake up and hear what you two were about to do next.

Sweet Emotion

“Happy birthday, Benny!” Trent says, taking a video of your son as he blew out the candle on the small cupcake in front of him. Your son’s fifth birthday was spent out with Trent, starting with him making breakfast again, taking the two of you to the park and Boston Commons as he played with Ben the entire time, out to dinner where you were now, treating you the entire way. Ben didn't even care about the gift that you had gotten from Andy, something he had previously looked forward to every year. Ben was starting to see Trent as a father figure, something that was both terrifying and exciting to you.

If Trent, for whatever reason, stopped wanting to be part of your life, that would mean he would also probably leave Ben’s, a boy who already didn’t know his father and didn’t seem to want to know him. But he wanted to know Trent, he loved Trent, and you knew Trent loved him, too. You were just afraid he would fall out of love.

Ben was giggling as Trent smashed part of the cupcake against his nose, the bright red frosting making him look like Rudolph as he tried, and failed, to lick it off himself.

“Did you get that part, too?” you ask Trent, leaning over to see his screen.

“Yeah, I’ll send it to you. Do you mind if I post it to my private story? Some of the guys and their wives would go crazy for this.”

“Only the private one,” you tell him, laughing as you turn to Ben to see his face more of a mess than before, the red frosting now spread to his cheeks, “Benny, what happened?”

“I’m painting,” he says, using his finger to smear the frosting on his face.

Trent can’t help but laugh, you pulling Ben in for a hug. Trent snaps a picture of you kissing the frosting off his face. “Wait a sec,” he says, calling over a waiter to take a picture of the three of you, both of you kissing Ben’s cheek as he beams at the camera.

You see him set his phone down, notifications lighting the screen up as you guys get ready to leave, the picture of the three of you his new phone background.

The next morning, Trent had morning skate before needing to get ready for their game that night. The last game before the All-Star Weekend marking the halfway point of the season was always both nerve-wracking and exciting, the hypothetical of ‘if the season ended today, would you be in or out of the playoffs?’ always on everyone’s mind even though it meant virtually nothing, but still wanting to stay at one of the top spots in the league regardless.

“Hey, what was with that story yesterday?” Jack asks him after practice.

“It was Ben’s birthday,” he shrugs.

“Isn’t it weird?” Zach asks. “She has a kid. She’s a mom. You aren’t a dad.”

“I never said I was his dad,” he defends himself, starting to take on a hostile tone.

“Well, you’re acting like his dad, aren’t you?”

Trent rolls his eyes as his only response. What was he supposed to do? Ignore that you have a child? Trent gets up to leave, Jack now standing in front of him to stop him.

“You’re with them all the time. You watch him when Y/N is busy. You brought them to family skate. You know his favorite toys, his favorite tv shows, you facetime them every night before the game because he’s going to be asleep by the time the game is over. You’re not his dad,” Jack lists to Trent, Trent getting more angry with every word that comes from his friend.

“What am I supposed to do? Pretend that Ben isn’t part of her life? Pretend that she has no kid? I can’t do that. I don’t want to do that.”

“It’s messing with you, Trent!” Jack yells, the rest of the remaining guys getting quiet. “You don’t do this. You don’t date a girl who has a child and play ‘house’ with her. You’re the guy who just fucks around and has fun. Where did he go?”

“I can’t change? I can’t settle down because I wasn’t settled before?” Trent responds, knowing that his face was bright red, “I love Y/N, and I love Ben. I don’t care if you think it’s ‘not normal.’ It’s what I want and you don’t really get a say in that.” Jack stands there, stunned by his friends' words, still struggling to find them as Trent grabs his bag and walks out of the room to go home before the game.

He wanted to call you and talk about it with you, but what was he going to say? ‘The guys think my dating you is weird since you have a son?’ The flash of your expression appeared in his mind when you realized the guys didn’t know about Ben at family skate, the pain he knew you felt when you thought he was ashamed of Ben. He wasn’t then and he isn’t now.

But what was he doing? Jack was right: he wasn’t Ben’s dad. He could never really be Ben’s dad. Why did your son mean so much to him if he had no relation to the child in the first place?

Why did he have to say he was all in? He was supposed to be focusing on himself and his hockey, not a girl he met at a bar and pouring all his excess energy into you and your son. What was he supposed to do? Pull back? Pull you away from your son? There was no way that was going to be an option, and there was no way that was an option he wanted to follow.

He was supposed to be following his normal pre-game traditions and routines, not having his mind run rampant over the thought of you and Ben and what his teammates think.

He pulls out his phone, a notification from Instagram telling him that you had responded to his story a few hours ago while he was at practice. Trent opens it, seeing the picture of Ben, looking so happy with the cupcake that was all his, the red frosting seconds from being smeared all over his face. Trent didn’t think about being a dad anytime soon. He really never had any intention of settling down, at least not yet, not seriously, yet there he was, thinking of Ben like his own son, head over heels for you and your son.

It was too much, wasn’t it?

His phone started buzzing with texts from the guys to make sure that he was ok after they watched his and Jack’s blow up in the locker room. Trent didn’t even care about them at this point, knowing that he should at least answer them even just to tell them to leave him alone for the time being.

But what if they were right? Jack’s words kept ringing through his head, that he was just a guy who had fun because that’s what he wanted, not a guy who settled down with a girlfriend, and especially not a guy who settled down with a girl who had a toddler.

He spent the entire time he was supposed to be taking a nap going back and forth between whether or not he was in too deep or if he was fine because he was in love. The night he met you, he had never intended to get this far in with you. He had just wanted to hook up, the reason he went home with you in the first place. But as soon as you told him about Ben, seeing the crushed look on your face at the prospect of him leaving because of your son, he knew that he couldn’t just be one and done. There was something about you and Ben that he had to be part of it once he was introduced, that part of his life that he never knew was missing until he realized he couldn’t picture his life without you.

And it was just too much.

Attitude Adjustment

Trent finally gets to the Garden, not even remembering who they were playing that night. He couldn’t think about anyone else, almost tempted to tell Bruce that he was sick so he could be a late scratch instead of letting this mess with him. Because no matter what he did, he couldn’t get out of his head and focus. The music that he normally played before a game wasn’t working, even so much as trying to close his eyes and picture being on the ice while he was in the locker room before the game.

No one approached him while he was in his stall, probably out of fear of another outburst from him. He wasn’t even paying attention when Bergeron gave his traditional pre-game motivational speech before they all went out to the ice, Trent skating around by himself in hopes of being able to focus before they played the Flames that night.

“Alright, what’s going on?” he hears someone say, not even noticing who came up to him in the first place.

He looks at Brad, suddenly thankful that there was someone on the team who knew what he was going through. “Katrina already had Sloane when you two met, right?”

“Y/N and Ben on your mind?”

“You were in the locker room after practice.”

The two of them skate around their half of the ice, the time before the game ticking down. “When you date a woman, when any two people date, there’s always going to be something that can get in the way and potentially break you up. That includes their family, their kids if they have them. You need to decide if you want to let Ben break you and Y/N up or if you’re going to take him in and not let him do that.”

The guys were migrating back to the bench, Brad still on the ice for the starting lineup. “It worked for you, though,” Trent says, hanging back as long as he could, his eyes darting back and forth between the clock and his teammate.

Brad shrugs, looking out to the blue line where Bergeron and Pastrnak were already waiting. “I don’t see Sloane as any less of my son than I see Sawyer as my daughter. It worked for me. If you want it to work for you, then you have to make it work.”

The buzzer sounds, Bruce yelling for Trent to get off the ice and onto the bench. Did he want this to work with you and Ben? What the three of you had was already great, but Trent had barely spent any time with you, a time when you and he could just be a couple without worry of anyone else.

Trent’s line goes out on the ice, his mind still occupied as he skates. The puck touches his stick, him making a mad dash towards the Flames net, only to get tangled up with Tkachuk, sending Trent to the ice. He doesn’t get up for a minute, trying to process what happened, an easy shot and probably goal just messed up, leading to a breakaway to the other end to put the Flames up 1-0 against the Bruins.

By the time he can finally get himself up, Bruce is yelling at him that if he messes up like that again then he’s benched the rest of the game, definitely not a good look going into the All-Star break. He gets back out on the ice, the same thing happening with him tripping on a breakaway, this time over himself instead of a Flame, again leading to them scoring and putting them up 2-0. He couldn’t get out of his head. Trent sat there the entire time, not even focusing on the game, not focusing on the comeback his own team had to win the game 4-3.

He didn’t talk to anyone in the locker room, rushing out as soon as he could to go home, hearing Brad’s voice carry through the hallway to the elevators as he explained what he knew about the situation, no doubt that Jack offered his own remarks that Trent was sure would have lead to them fighting right there.

He had never wanted to fight one of his teammates over shit they said before, let alone one of his best friends. Other guys on other teams? Sure. But Jack?

Trent gets into his car, his phone already blowing up, asking him if he had still wanted to come on the trip to Puerto Rico he and the guys had planned with their girlfriends a while back. He had completely forgotten about the trip, no one even mentioning it for the longest time, not even sure that it was actually booked by anyone.

What surprised him most was Jack asking in the group if you were going to come with them, followed by a separate text saying that he meant it, that he wanted you to come.

Maybe this is what you and Trent needed; a trip with the guys, the two of you able to spend some time alone and just be with each other without the constant worry of someone or something else. He texted back that he would be there, not sure about you yet.

“Hello?” you answer your phone, Ben’s coming through the background. Hearing him made Trent hesitate, swallowing hard.”Trent?”

“Yeah, uh,” he swallows again, “Sorry, um, mind if I stop by for a few minutes?”

You sit up from the couch, looking at the mess you didn’t even realize Ben had created during the game. “Yeah, sure. I’ll see you soon?” you say, hearing him start up his car.

“Yeah, awesome,” he says, hanging up before either of you could say anything else, practically speeding out of the Garden as fast as he could to get to you. The more he thought about it, the more excited he was about spending a week with you.

“Hey, Benny, guess who’s coming over soon?” you put on a cheery voice, crouching down to the floor where Ben was playing with his toys.

Your toddler started bouncing up and down, his arms waving around in excitement. “Trent?” he squeals.

“He should be here any minute, help me pick up some of your toys, ok?”

You and Ben start to scramble to pick everything up. You knew Trent wouldn’t normally care if there were toys on the ground, but there was something about the tone of his voice when he called to tell you that he was stopping by that worried you.

You had watched the game, you weren’t stupid that he had had an awful game, thankful that it was an earlier evening game that Ben could watch with you. Even he was upset when Trent fell, both times, getting benched and hearing Jack and Brick speculate what was up with one of their favorite players.

Ben continued to buzz around as you waited, thankful that he couldn’t sense the anxiety that was building up while waiting for Trent. You hear him knocking on the door, getting up while Ben seems to be oblivious to the sound. You smile when you see him, mirroring his own expression, the complete opposite of what you expected given the conversation you had minutes ago.

“I have something to ask you,” he starts, his hands on your waist as he starts walking you backward down the hall, seemingly toward your bedroom.

“Trent! Trent!” Ben comes up to the two of you, bouncing up and down, Trent's hands releasing their grip on you. “Are you coming on Friday?” Ben asks him, referencing his concert at school that Trent had promised to come to.

You saw the smile on Trent’s face fade at Ben’s words, a nervous look taking over as he knelt down to look Ben in the eye. “I really want to see your concert, buddy, but I’m not sure if I can make it. I’m gonna try, though, ok?” he tries to save face when he sees the crushed look on your son’s face.

Ben nods, not understanding what Trent was really saying to him. In his world, Trent saying he wasn’t sure meant he didn’t want to see him sing with his other classmates. “Um, Ben, why don’t you go play in your room for a little bit, ok?” you ask him, guiding him to his room, watching him run down the hall. You turn to your boyfriend, clearly confused by what he just told Ben. “It’s the All-Star break, what came up?”

“The guys and I are going away for the break, and I want you to come with me.”

“What are you talking about? You said you were staying here?” you ask him, praying that Ben doesn’t come out of his room and couldn’t hear any of this.

“I know, I know, but, come on, things change,” he says, taking your hand and trying to lead back down your hallway.

“Wait, Trent, come on,” you stop him, turning him around to face you. “You want Ben and I to come with you on a trip with the guys? What guys, where are you going?”

His expression drops again, “I was kinda hoping it would just be me and you.”

“And where would Ben be? I can’t just leave him alone. I can’t go away with you.”

“But, Y/N, come on,” he whines. “This could be so good for us. A few days, just you and me, no distractions, nothing stopping us from just being together, like a real couple.”

“Distractions? A real couple? Trent, what the,” you stop, realizing you were standing right outside of Ben’s door. You look between Trent and the door, Trent’s pleading expression as you take him down the hall, practically slamming the door to your own bedroom. “What the fuck are you talking about?” you hiss.

He sits on your bed, you still standing, towering over him. He puts his hands in his face, letting out a deep breath. “I’m,” he starts, “I just want time where it’s you and me. Other than that night at the bar, we almost never have had more than a few hours when you and I are alone. I need to get out of Boston for a bit, and I don’t want anyone with me beside you.”

“Trent, I can’t,” you protest, sitting down next to him.

“Yes, please, just say, yes.”

“No, Trent. You aren’t hearing what I’m saying.”

“I am, I just-”

“Ok, then you aren’t listening! I can’t just drop everything on a moment’s notice and go off with you on a vacation. I have a kid, and if you haven’t noticed, I can’t exactly afford a babysitter for more than two nights in a row, let alone watching him all day every day for an entire week.”

“Don’t worry, I can pay for one, I just need to get out of here, and I need you with me.”

“Trent, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Ben can stay with a sitter.”

“Don’t you get it? Ben comes first. Ben has to come first. When it comes to a decision between you and Ben, or anyone and Ben, my choice is always Ben. There is never a case when I’ll pick something or someone over him, especially not going on some trip with you and your frat boy-like teammates because you’re upset you had one bad game. I choose him every single time. Especially over you, Trent.”

“What about Ben’s father? Can’t he stay with Andy?”

You can’t help but gasp, hurt by what you thought Trent meant. “You mean the father that didn’t want him? I. Told you. This,” you say, standing up again, “Andy wants nothing to do with Ben. And right now it seems like neither do you.” You could feel the tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, turning around and heading out of your room. You couldn’t look at him. You had no idea where you were going to go, given that you had Ben in his room and couldn’t leave him.

“Y/N, please, I’m sorry,” he runs after you, stopping you before you reached the door. “I just want a few days, where it’s you and me. Where everything is easy for us. Where there’s nothing, no one, besides you and me.”

“This isn’t supposed to be easy. You knew it wasn’t going to be so why are you so shocked that this is how it is?” you tell him, the tears finally falling.

The two of you stand there for a minute, Trent starting to reach for you a few times before running his hands through his hair. “It’s me and Ben, or neither of us,” you give him an ultimatum. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, wishing he can find the words. “Fine. If you can’t make the decision, I will. Get out.”

“Y/N, come on.”

“No. If you have to think about it, then you aren’t ‘all in,’” you call back to the morning after you two met. “Because if you were, you wouldn’t have to think about it.”

Trent doesn’t say another word, pushing past you and leaving you there.

You press your back against the door, letting out a silent sob so that Ben can’t hear you. This was exactly what you were afraid of, wiping the tears from your face and peeling yourself off the door. You walk down the hall, hoping that Ben wouldn’t notice the redness that was probably in your eyes from crying, opening his door.

“Where’s Trent?” Ben asked, handing you a toy of his when you sit down on his floor with him.

You swallow hard, not sure what to really tell him. “He had to go, Benny,” you say, running your hand on his hair, pulling him close to kiss the top of his head.

“When’s he coming back, Mommy?”

You put on a fake smile for him, not wanting to let him know when you really thought Trent would be back. “I don’t know, sweetie. Not this week.”

I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing

You hadn’t checked anyone’s story on Instagram since last night, sitting on the metal chairs in the middle of the day, surrounded by parents much older than you, figuring now was probably the only time you hate the chance.

You tap through them, some stories from friends from college, random celebrities that you followed. You finally get to Jack’s story from last night. They were in Puerto Rico, in some dark restaurant. Zach and Jeremy were dancing, Jack behind the camera. In the corner, you could see Trent sitting at a table, looking miserable. He sees Jack with his camera, shakes his head and storms off. You replay the story, Jack’s shaking making you think that he was saying something and turning the sound on low, holding the phone to your ear. You could hear the music more than anything else, sounds of Zach, Jeremy, and Jack’s laughter breaking through after one of them said something inaudible. Trent must have gotten up at that point, because you hear Jack yell, “Oh, Trent! Come on, man! Have some fun!”

You go to Trent’s profile, hoping that he had posted anything. The last photo he has posted was of the two of you, him strategically cropping out Ben because you had asked him to. It was from Ben’s birthday, outside the restaurant. He had captioned it, ‘Spent the day with my two favorite people, Bear not shown.’

Ben’s preschool teacher gets up on the stage, the high-pitched whispers of the four- and five-year-olds starting by the back door as Ms. Barry introduces the class, all of them walking up in a line to the stage. They start waving to their parents, Ben waving to you as everyone, including you, has their phone out waving back and recording the moment. The children start singing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,’ their pixie-like voices filling the auditorium, all slightly out of key and slightly out of sync with each other. Towards the end of the song, you notice Ben starting to jump up and down, anxious over something he saw towards the back of the auditorium, as did some of the other children. You figured it was nothing, none of the other parents turning around to look at what it was either.

They go onto their next song, one you weren’t paying attention to, nor did you recognize it. Ben was no less antsy than he was before, waving again with the biggest smile on his face. It had to be someone.

You turn around, Trent leaning against the back wall, one hand in his pocket while the other was waving to Ben. All of his attention was on Ben. You turn back in your seat, shocked that he was there. He was supposed to be in Puerto Rico.

You put your bag on the seat, the mom next to you promising to watch it. You sneak back to Trent, not sure what to say to him. You turn to Ben, giving him the thumbs up and a single finger to tell him that you were going to be back in a second, feeling bad that you were leaving your so. Ben jumps up and down, nodding and continuing to sing.

You grab Trent, pulling him out of the room and into the small hallway. “What are you doing here? You were in Puerto Rico last night; I saw you on Jack’s story.”

He looks down at his feet, biting his bottom lip. “I couldn’t be there knowing you and Ben were here.”

“That’s not what you said when you wanted to go.”

He nods, looking up at you for a second before his eyes flick back down to his feet. “I told you I was dumb.”

“So why are you here then?”

“I told you when we first met that I was all in. I can’t be all in if I’m not here.”

“So?”

He takes a step closer to you, hesitating for a moment. “So. I don’t want to miss anything with you, or with Ben.” You don’t know what came over you, kissing him outside your son’s concert the way you did. You can hear the parents start to cheer, signaling that the concert was finished. Trent pulls away, your foreheads pressed against each other. He smiles before stealing a kiss again, pulling you back inside.

Ben comes running up to you, giggling with his arms open. “Trent!”

“Benny Bear!” he responds, crouching down with his arms open, hugging Ben when he came in contact. He picks him up, kissing him on the cheek, your hand on Trent’s back.

“You came! You’re back!” Ben squeals, burying his face in Trent’s shoulder.

“Back and here to stay,” he says to you, giving you a quick kiss before putting Ben down, getting your bag, and going home.

[choco-exe]

the one where tsukishima and sakusa go too far with teasing their crush

anonymous asks:  Hiiiiii I LOVE ur writing, and I was wondering if I could request the haikyuu boys (whoever u think fits best) who constantly tease (borderline insult) their crush, who one day just breaks down from their harsh words and say to them something along the lines of “why do you hate me?”, and how the the haikyuu boys react to that. If possible, end with something fluffy 🥺? (Like a confession) TYSMMM ❤️❤️

a/n: hello! aww im glad you do :D wait i just realized you said to have the boys react to their crush saying why do you hate me- fuuuuu- ahem please forgive me for not reading the ask correctly ;w; i hope you still enjoy, nevertheless! and why did i write these long-

tw: mentions of self hate, kind of toxic behavior from sakusa

𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚊 . . .  🖉

  ☾ he’s gonna be meaner the more he likes you   ☾ like if he’s only realized he developed a crush on you, he’d treat you the same, but if it’s been weeks and you haven’t picked up the hint, he’s gonna be treating you like trash   ☾ you find him staring down at you with a dead eye stare   ☾ “what’s up, kei?” “you’re so short you look like a toddler” “..i’m the average height for a high schooler though-”   ☾ his comments about your height never got to you, but then he started to target other regions of yourself   ☾ like he’d give a rude remark about a low score you got on the quiz, or how you always look dead inside well he isn’t wrong   ☾ whenever he said something negative about you, you just shot back a counter and brushed it off   ☾ after a month of this going on, though, his words started to sting a bit   ☾ “hey kei-” “can’t you stay quiet for one second? it’s like you blab out words every chance you get”   ☾ imagine your surprise, since it was unusual of him to comment about you talking   ☾ and one of your biggest insecurities is being annoying to others; you knew you tend to ramble about things, and a nagging voice in the back of your mind was always telling you about how people around you would get fed up with it   ☾ did tsukki mean to say it like that? of course not; he was meaning to have a bit of humor in his statement   ☾ he just said it in such an annoyed tone and way that it made it seem like he was bothered by you talking   ☾ “..sorry, kei. my mind wandered for a bit..”   ☾ you figured that he just had a bad day, and you were over it after a full night of sleep i could really use that   ☾ the voice inside your head grew louder, however, and tsukishima’s comments didn’t help at all   ☾ “stop bothering me about the homework; cant you see i’m busy? ugh, fine, take my notes if you’re that stupid-”   ☾ “if you want attention, listen to this playlist. it should satisfy your longing for voices; i need to study for a test now”   ☾ it got to the point where your mind was yelling at you about being a nuisance, and the final piece you needed to break just so happened to be during a practice match..

“You did great, blocking them all, Tsukki!” You exclaimed, flashing him a grin as you pass him his water bottle and towel. In all honesty, you were forcing your smile so hard, it began to hurt your jaw. “I could’ve blocked better if someone wasn’t screaming the whole time,” the middle blocker said, wiping sweat off his forehead. You had been passing out water bottles to the other players, but you stopped dead in your tracks when his words hit your ears. “Y/N-chan..?” Shimizu asked worriedly, eyeing your expression that Tsukishima couldn’t see. The said blonde took off his goggled to switch them out with his regular glasses. “It was just a practice match; getting hyped up wasn’t exactly the brightest idea your mind conjured up.” Putting his glasses on after wiping the lenses, he looked down at you to see your tear ducts brimming with your sadness. “..huh..?” You touched your face as a tear slid down your cheek. The other club members looked at you in concern. “Ah- don’t worry, everyone..” You wave your hands frantically as Daichi and Sugawara stare disapprovingly at Tsukishima. “It’s nothing to worry about. I’m just gonna.. step outside for a bit.” You forced another smile out onto your face, then quickly scampered out of the gym. The silence was so thick, you could slice it with a sword. Four-Eyes clearly didn’t expect you to be that emotional over his statement, as his face was filled with a small mixture of concern and confusion. He ran after you, shoving his things in his hands to Yamaguchi and leaving the rest of the team shocked into standing still. You had fled to a nearby bench, where you collapsed onto and shoved your face into your hands, desperately trying to stop your tears from shedding. How stupid, you thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Look what you did; you made the team worry about you, and they’re all going to resent you the moment they find out the reason behind your crying. “Y/N.” Jolted out of your thoughts, you looked up to find Tsukishima staring down at you with an unreadable expression. Almost immediately, your face became flooded with streams of tears. You quickly looked down at your lap, fidgeting with your hands. “I-I’m sorry for talking so much, Tsukki, I’ll try to keep my thoughts to myself-” “Shut up, Y/N.” He interrupted. You sighed and calmed your breathing. “This is what I’m talking about, Tsukishima.” You muttered, putting your face in your hands once again. “I’m just a pest to everyone; anyone I encounter will automatically hate me-” “Stop insulting yourself, dammit.” The middle blocker clenched his fists in anger. “You aren’t a nuisance, and you most definitely aren’t one to be hated on- I know I can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, but did it really affect you that much-” You slowly took your face out of your hands to see the blonde crouching, staring up at you. “'Did it really affect you that much?’ What do you think?! God, it really seems like you don’t consider my feelings at all, Tsukishima! I’ve been suspecting that you hate me, but why-?!” Said boy quickly clasped your hands in his, surprising you greatly. His usual expressionless face was morphed into one in a slight panic. “It’s because I like you, idiot!” Taking a moment to process his words, your whole face flushed a scarlet-red. “What?” The tips of Tsukishima’s ears were dusted with a soft coral-pink hue. “You heard me. I won’t repeat myself.” He averted his eyes from yours, squeezing your hands in nervousness. “I-” You were internally melting inside; who would’ve thought the salty beanpole would like someone like you? “But you would always push me to the side! Telling me you were busy and such!” Tsukishima stared at you like you were the biggest dumbass in the world. “I gave you my notes because I knew you didn’t have the energy to take them in class, and the playlist was a collection of songs I thought would suit you. Are you that dense?” “Who are you calling dense?!” You replied hastily. “And for your information, I haven’t given you my answer yet! Let go of my hands, and I’ll tell you, okay?” The middle blocker leaned in close to your face with his dead eye gaze. “It’s an agreement or disagreement, Y/N. What is your response?” You leaned back into the bench, but Tsukishima followed with your movements. “Um- I-” Your words crossed with each other, the lack of personal space making your head spin. “Yes?” Satisfied, the lamppost removed his hands from yours and flicked your forehead. “Simple as that, shortcake. If you want to freeze to death outside, that’s fine by me.” He began to walk back to the gym. “Wha- I’m not short!” You exclaimed, running after the four-eyes. “Also, I’m not the one who’s been sweating profusely for the past hour, so speak for yourself!” Tsukishima gently smiled as he heard you rapidly firing back at his comment. Looks like she’s back to her usual self. 𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚜𝚊 . . .  🖉

  ✤ obviously he’s gonna be commenting about your hygiene 24/7   ✤ the fact that he’s developed a crush on you doesn’t help, either; it means that you should be extra clean if he were to date you   ✤ and of course he has to remind you almost every hour of the day; whether it be by text or in person   ✤ now, you didn’t mind him checking up on you every couple of days, but every hour??   ✤ you’re convinced that sakusa has had some sort of trauma in the past, fighting with germs ever since he was a child okay not really.. unless?   ✤ he doesn’t even do this to the other people he’s acquainted with; you’ve asked koromi about it, and he says sakusa just sprays him with holy water a disinfecting solution    ✤ now you’re confused as to why you’re getting special treatment from him, when you two aren’t as close as him and his cousin   ✤ so you personally went to his class to ask him about it   ✤ “hey kiyoomi, why do you remind me to be clean every hour that you’re awake?” “because you shouldn’t have a single germ on you.” “but it’s literally the same message every time; at least make it seem more interesting” “cleaning yourself should be simple, not complicated”   ✤ you got fed up with it as another week went by, which is understandable, since this clean freak was spamming your phone hour after hour without missing a single text   ✤ the fact that sakusa was willing to put effort into reminding you about your hygiene was kind of sweet, but the same message every. single. damn. time. was annoying you like hell   ✤ and when you tell him to stop and that you already know how to get rid of germs, he gave you a disgusted look   ✤ this had to be one of the most nasty expressions he had ever made, because you stood paralyzed to the floor   ✤ “i have been reminding you for your own good, y/n. why don’t you just appreciate what i do for you, instead of complain about it?”   ✤ your mouth stayed shut, your tongue feeling as though it was glued to the top of your mouth   ✤ “don’t mention anything like this again”   ✤ you meekly nodded, and he strolled out the classroom   ✤ the moment he was gone, you collapsed onto the floor out of fear, shivering as you replayed the scene again and again in your head   ✤ the main question that circled your head was: why was he acting so controlling?   ✤ the night after, you texted sakusa, and asked him to meet up with you at your favorite spot   ✤ surprisingly, he complied. and you were waiting for awhile by the time he got there..

“Sakusa, hi!” You greeted your friend with a small but warm smile. The ace frowned; it was unlike you to call him by his last name. In fact, it had been months since you’ve said his name with such coldness in your voice. “..why did you call me out here?” He questioned in a low tone. Your eyes grew dark as you thought about what to say to him. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday. I feel as though we need to.” Sakusa’s own eyes narrowed as you spoke each word. “Are you still going to complain about my reminders to you?” Shaking your head, you stared at your feet while hugging your arms to your chest. “Of course not, I heard what you told me to do. I just.. wanted to know why you got so angry, is all.” The jet-black haired boy stared down at you, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to remember what specifically happened the day before. “I don’t know what you’re remembering, Y/N, but I wasn’t angry in the slightest. Are you sure you aren’t thinking of another memory of yours?” Your head snaps up when he said that he wasn’t angry. “Yes, I’m very sure.” You firmly say. “Maybe you don’t think you seemed angry, but you were downright furious. It was.. kind of terrifying.” “Are you saying I was out of control yesterday?” “No, just..” You subconsciously hugged your arms tighter to your body, trying to make yourself as small as possible. “..intimidating.” Sakusa tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. You found him intimidating? Just from a little conversation that happened because of you’re questioning ways? “I’m tired, and I’m sure you are, too,” you continued, not catching on that your friend was becoming annoyed with your talking. “Which is why I want to end this quickly. Sakusa, I have a life, too. As much as I appreciate what you do for me, I can take care of myself without your help-” “You’re repeating the same words you stated yesterday, just in different phrasing.” The germaphobe harshly cut in. “I said this once, but I will say it again, for your sake. I am doing this for your own good-” “-and I know what’s good for me and what isn’t, Sakusa!” You exclaimed, your arms no longer crossed. “I can make my own decisions! I’m not some dumb little kid you have to look after-” “Y/N-” “-so just drop this already! It doesn’t help anyone; it doesn’t help me, it doesn’t help you-” “Y/N.” Sakusa lost all patience. He towered over you, his hands clenched tightly into fists. You slightly shrink at his actions, your arms up in defense. The ace didn’t seem to notice your fear as he took a step forward. “You are crawling with so many germs, I can practically see them all over you. You are in no condition to be deciding on your hygiene, when you can’t even rid of the many dirt particles covering your skin.” He took another step forward, and you step back, unsure of what to do. Sakusa broke out of his anger when he heard a slight sob leave your lips. “Why do you hate me so much, Sakusa?!” You asked, pain laced into your voice. “I’m perfectly capable of not being dirty, can’t you see?! Why can’t you just leave me alone-” You used your sleeves to start wiping the tears away, although they doubled to replace the ones you removed. The ace hesitantly enveloped you in a hug, making you break down even more. “Sakusa- no- you’re gonna get germs on you-” You stammered, resisting the temptation to bury your face into his chest. “..I made you cry. I need to pay the consequences.” Said boy murmured, rubbing shapes onto your back. You continued to cry for a good 5 minutes, before slowly pushing him away. “..thank you.” You sniffled. “I know consequences has nothing to do with that. Why did you-?” “I like you, Y/N.” He cut you off, making your eyes widen. “The reason why I’d been constantly reminding you to wash up is because I thought I should date someone who was clean to the touch. That was wrong of me, so very wrong. I apologize, and it’s fine if you reject-” You shut him up with a kiss to his mask. “Are you traumatized yet?” You asked, trying to crack a smile. “That’s my revenge from yesterday.” Sakusa blinked multiple times before realizing what you did. “..I guess I deserved that. So is that a yes..?” You broke out into a beautiful, radiant smile this time, the moonlight making you glow even more than you already were. “Of course, Kiyoomi!”

[something-tofightfor]

Magnetic: Chapter 12 - See You

Pairing: Din x Reader (female reader insert; no ‘Y/N’)

Word Count: 10,046

Rating: It’s happening. NOT SAFE FOR WORK- if you’re under 18, goodbye.

Summary: In the aftermath of your successful bounty - and growing closer to Din - how do the two of you navigate the Razor II knowing that both of you want more? 

Author’s note:

This has been a long time coming. A very long time. They deserve this. You deserve this. Thank you for reading. Thank you for your feedback. Thank you for your support. This one’s fun.  As always, if you have any songs to add to the playlist, please let me know. 

(banner made by @malionnes)

The following day was no different than the previous ones - you and Din moved around the ship in the same ways that you had before, time passing as the two of you made conversation and went through the typical daily actions of hyperspace travel. 

 Yes, you were still on track to get back to Tatooine on time, no you didn’t think that Grogu was behaving for Peli, it didn’t matter whether you sat in the cockpit or on crates in the hull. There wasn’t any lingering weirdness or discomfort from the previous night, but both of you made it a point not to bring it up, even though you wanted to. And I think he does, too. 

 You’d rolled over during the night, Din’s chest pressed to your back when you opened your eyes, and you took the time to enjoy the few minutes before he came to; the sounds of the man’s breathing deep and even, his mind blank and his arm hanging heavily over the middle of your body. There’d been no nightmares, and no dreams, either - at least that you could remember. I hope that means he slept well. But you’d shifted a little too much in your attempt to get closer, and Din’s arm tightened against you, fear filling his mind as he woke - at least until you murmured his name as you turned your head backwards toward him, letting him know that it was just you, that it was still dark in the room. Can’t see you, but I feel you.

 He hadn’t stayed in bed with you long after that, dropping kisses first onto the crown of your head and then your mouth before rolling away from you and sitting up, telling you that he needed to use the fresher. But when he hadn’t come back up long minutes later, you realized that he wasn’t going to. Disappointing, yes. A surprise? No. Can’t expect everything at once.

 After changing into a different pair of pants and the long-sleeved shirt, you climbed down the ladder, the absolute absence of his thoughts and emotions letting you know that it was safe - the helmet was back on. You made breakfast for yourself, then started to reorganize the storage area, just looking for something to keep your hands busy. Din stayed downstairs for a little while and made small talk with you before he disappeared upstairs and into the cockpit, his voice loud in the quiet space as he spoke to someone. Like clockwork. 

 You finished what you’d been doing, sticking your updated supply list into one of the drawers near the ration kits. With a single glance around the space - perfectly organized and as spotless as the ship could be, you decided to go back upstairs and into your room. It’ll be a distraction, because he was there, but it’s right across the hallway.

 You never made it to your room. 

 As you reached the top of the ladder, you heard Din’s voice from inside the cockpit again - along with Karga’s, and since the doors were open, you stood outside with your arms crossed over your chest, listening. “You mean to tell me that you actually captured Tyrande Goscoll? You were able to -” 

 “Not me. Her.” It was a simple statement, matter of fact - but you heard a note of pride in the few words and smiled at the sound of them. Sure did. “He’ll be another one for your men to collect when we land on Nevarro. Told you it wouldn’t be a problem.” Karga didn’t reply right away, but when he did, you widened your eyes, waiting for Din’s response. 

 “Is he alive?” He questioned Din like he already knew the answer. But it sounds like he thinks he’s not. “You -”

 “He was when I slabbed him.” Din sighed. “He doesn’t deserve it, but -” Why didn’t you kill him then?

 “That’s another 12,000 credits. Goscoll alive?” Your jaw dropped. On top of the bounty total?  “Big money, but you already knew that, didn’t you?” Confirming that he did, you heard - and saw - Din leaning back in the seat. “That’s a hefty return for one bounty, Mando.” That’s a good reason for him only stunning him. He can use that.

 “It is.” Din waited and you heard the seat creaking as he moved. “But it’s not all mine.” 

 “What you do with your earnings is your business. I’m just making a point. Your reputation will only -”

 “It’s not about that. And I’d rather no one know that this was my bounty.” He was agitated, though you didn’t know if Karga was picking up on it. “You know why I’m doing this.” 

 “Yeah, yeah.” Karga chuckled. “At leat let me enjoy the fact that through you, my reputation grows, too.” Chuckling at that, you lowered your head, figuring that Din had heard the sound. I’m not trying to hide from him, so it’s fine. “You’re a legend, Mando.” 

 “If you say so.” He leaned forward, pushing a few buttons. “Three more stops. Shouldn’t be more than a couple weeks until we’re back.” Karga thanked him for the update, and you mentally ran through the remaining bounties - four of them, but the two on the same planet would cut down on the time it took to complete the assignments. And then what? That’ll be half of our time gone, and Din will need to go back to Mandalore. 

 The thought unsettled you, and you weren’t completely sure why. Because it’s new. Because I know how uneasy it makes him. Because I don’t know where I’ll fit in there. But you heard the men saying goodbye, and then Din calling your name, telling you to come into the cockpit with him. “I wasn’t snooping, Din.” You put a hand on the back of his seat before taking yours. “I was going into the other room, and I heard you -”

 “I left the door open. Of course you heard.” He was facing you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the extra credits for keeping Goscall alive. I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case I had to …” 

 “Those extras are yours. I’ll take what we agreed on for the value of the puck, but…” You shook your head. “I had nothing to do with keeping him breathing, that was all you.” 

 “You earned them.” He shrugged, and despite the fact that he was once again without any armor but the helmet, the broadness of his body moving with the morion made it clear he meant it. “They’re - “

 “No.” You put your hand on his knee, waiting. “I earned the credits in the casino. It … it balances out. I’m sure you can use the extra for the ship or for Grogu, or even for ... for Mandalore.” Whatever that might mean. Smiling at him, you hoped that he was looking into your eyes. “I mean it, Din. It’s yours. I don’t want it, and I don’t need it. I appreciate the offer but -” 

 “We’ll see.” He settled back against the chair, head moving up and down as he watched you. “Are you cold?” You looked down, too, and than wrinkled your nose, eyes on his helmet.  

 “Not right now.” Pulling your hand back and letting it rest on your lap, you thought about what you wanted to say. Do I bring it up now? Is it worth it? “Din? I lied to you about .... getting another shirt in Nevarro.” I guess so. “I wanted to keep yours.” He straightened up in the chair, cocking his head to the side. 

 “Why?” He’s going to make me explain everything. Great. That’s exactly what I wanted to do today. “It’s just a shirt. I’ve got plenty.” Rubbing at your arm, you looked away from him and out the window, chewing on your lip. “Tell me.” He added your name, the modulated sound the deciding factor for you. 

 “The more I got to know you over the last weeks, Din, the more I …” You stared at his hands, once again bare, eyes on the knuckles. “It should be obvious based on the last few nights, but �� I like you. And wearing your shirt just made me … happy. It’s like a piece of you is still here, even when you’re out on a hunt.” It sounds so stupid coming out of my mouth. So dumb, so childish, so… “Even though you only offered it because I needed it, not because -” 

 “It doesn’t fit you right.” He set his shoulders, crossing his arms over his chest. “The sleeves are too long, and it goes down past your waist. The neck is too big, it’s loose.” He sounds surprised.

 “You weren’t complaining about that last night, Din.” Twisting your lips into a smirk, you eyed him. “The neck, I mean.” Without warning, he leaned in, reaching out and touching your skin, one fingertip pressed to it as he cocked his head to the side.

“No. I wasn’t. And I won’t.” Thumb beneath your jaw, he tilted your head to one side, moving his to follow it. “Did I do…” He leaned in closer, the hand not on you reaching up to press a button on the side of his helmet. “Damn.” Wait, what? You furrowed your brow, waiting, and Din let go of you, carefully moving his hand to the other side of your neck, down near your shoulder, the pad of his thumb sliding over your skin. “I didn’t mean to…” 

 “Didn’t mean to what?” You felt his thumb as it moved, and then a faint twinge of pain as he added pressure. “Din, did you…” Eyes widening, you felt your mouth drop open, a laugh spilling out. “Do I have a bruise on my neck from you?” 

 “You … do. There’s...a few of them.” Biting your lower lip to keep from laughing harder, you watched as he straightened up, hand falling into his lap. “I didn’t mean to -” Oh, this man is … 

 “Din.” You pressed your lips together hard, swallowing another chuckle. “You…” But you couldn’t contain yourself, covering your face with both hands and letting yourself laugh, the sound filling the cockpit. “Maker, who would have thought that a Mandalorian would be so upset at the thought that he …” It was a struggle to get the words out, but it was hilarious to you; the man unsure of the way to best use his mouth against your skin; unknowing of the tiny amount of pressure it took to bruise the thin expanse of a human throat with lips or teeth. “You um…” You collected yourself, looking at the T-visor again, knowing that your eyes were bright. “You did spend a lot of time with your mouth there, and …” You coughed to hide another laugh, but it didn’t do any good.

 He finally laughed at that, too, and it was a nervous sound. Before you could stop yourself, you reached for him, hand landing on his shoulder and squeezing. It’s fine, Din. “Did… you mark me, too? Your laughter stopped, and you saw your reflection in the beskar covering his cheek - the side with the dimple, before Din tilted his head back, exposing his entire neck to you. He… You took the motion as an invitation, leaning in closer and inspecting the smooth skin of Din’s neck. It was usually covered with the flight suit and his cape, but when you were traveling through hyperspace, he’d taken to removing the cape and the suit along with his armor. I’ve never been this close, though, never… not in the light. You eyed the visible skin - pulled taut over the tendons and muscle, watching as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a single swallow. 

 He was larger than you and always would be, but the sight of his long neck - slender, almost graceful in the way it supported the helmet he wore - made him seem less imposing. That doesn’t make sense. You leaned in closer, fingers tracing upward from the collar of his shirt and toward the bottom of the beskar, stopping before any part of your hand touched it. “No.” A smile - this one less amused and more in admiration - curved your lips upward. “No, Din. You’re still perfectly…” You trailed off as he reached for your arm, fingers closing around it and squeezing. “What are you -” 

 “Come to bed with me.” You froze, eyes going wide. What? He reached for you with his other hand, fingers tugging on the end of your sleeve. “I know what I said last night, but -” Is he serious?

 “Ok.” It was your turn to swallow, breath coming out shallow. “I -” Mind racing, you stood, only removing your hand at the last possible second, it dropping back to your side. “Are you sure?” Your head was spinning, the gravity of his words doing little to hold you in place. He just asked me to go to… and I questioned him about it. 

 “I should be asking you that.” He stood too, but instead of waiting, he put his hands on your hips, pushing you backwards and toward the door. “You don’t know what you just agreed to.” I don’t? The two of you walked backwards across the small hallway, one of your hands reaching out for the railing to steady yourself as he guided you. Din said your name as you made it to the door, but instead of answering, you reached down, pulling one of his hands away from your body and taking it, fingers wrapping around his. Does he want confidence? Does he want me to be … what do you want, Din? In the span of only a few seconds, you contemplated your options. He might not have been experienced in the ways he could use his body without the armor, but when it came to everything else, the man was way ahead of you. Make your choice. 

 “Maybe I don’t.” You stared up, eyes on the black portion of his helmet. “But you’re going to show me.” His posture changed at that, and without warning, Din pushed you backwards and into your room, closing the door behind him. Despite your lack of previous - or recent - partners, you weren’t worried. He said it’s not like it usually is. He knows we have to be on this ship together, he won’t… “Din, wait.” Your eyes followed the movement of his hand, headed for the light switch. “I want to see you.” Shutting your eyes, you moved your head back and forth. “Not …not your face, but the rest of you. Let me…” You reopened them, voice steady. “Please don’t turn the light off.” You knew what it meant - that he’d be able to see you, too, and that the helmet stayed on, but you didn’t care. 

 “You’d rather…” He sounded confused again, his hold on you loosening. “You’d rather me keep the …” No, I’d rather you pull the damn thing off right now but that isn’t an option, so this is what we can do. 

 “It’s not about the helmet, Din. It doesn’t ... “ Tell him the truth. “I don’t want to hide in the dark with you. I don’t mind the light.” He sighed, but you felt lighter after the admission. Because it’s the truth.

 “It’s strange, if you’re not used to it. Distracting. Will it bother you?” He sounds surprised. You stepped closer, putting a hand on his chest. “Most people are more interested in the...”

 “I’m not most people.” You let out a breath. “But if you really need to turn the light off, that’s… fine.” The helmet moved back and forth slowly - deliberately, Din’s hand pushing beneath the shirt you wore and flattening against your skin. 

 “No.” He leaned down, voice dropping, though you could still hear it clearly through the modulator. “That means I get to see you, too.” You do. It thrilled you - the fact that he sounded just as intrigued by the prospect of undressing each other in the light as you felt - and you felt yourself shiver, fingers twitching against his undershirt. “I need to... warn you.” What? “My life hasn’t … I’ve been in a lot of close calls. And I didn’t always have someone like you there with bacta gel to clean me up.” Your eyes moved down to his hand and the scar there, and then back up his body. 

 “Maybe that’s why I want to keep the lights on, Din. I want to see just how well your leg healed.” You winked at him, and were surprised to feel his hands lifting the bottom of your shirt without pause, the material sliding up and over your torso. He’s in a hurry. But you didn’t mind, raising both arms over your head and letting him continue, closing your eyes and only reopening them when you felt the material move over your face and then disappear. He said your name as you lowered your hands, letting them rest on his shoulders, and Din reached out toward you again, his chest rising and falling quickly. 

 “That’s what you’re hiding under my shirt?” He was touching your stomach with one hand, the thumb of the other sweeping slowly over your clavicle. “You -” 

 “Got used to it at the Academy, Din.” You wrinkled your nose. “What we wore was practical. Comfortable. Easy to move in. I’ve got a cloak, too. It’s packed, and -” 

 “I like this better.” He pushed you away from him gently, hand sliding to your hip just above the waistband of your pants. You let him touch you for a few moments, watching as his head dropped down, then moved back and forth slowly, both hands roaming over the bared skin beneath them. “Much better. I liked that dress on Hosnian Prime, too.” You felt yourself growing warm, the way he was observing you doing wonders for your ego, but when he dropped both hands to your waist, one of them landing on the button of your pants, you said his name, a warning in your tone. “What? I thought -” 

 “I…” You closed your eyes. “I said I wanted to see you too, Din. And I meant it.” You looked up, arching an eyebrow. “You’ve gotta get undressed, too. I can’t take your shirt off, because I don’t know how the helmet -” 

 “You can.” He cleared his throat, the sound loud through the modulator. “You won’t pull it off, you have to release it, it’s… tight.” He caught both hands, moving them to his shirt. “Go… go ahead.” He stood still as you began to lift the dark material, your eyes on the motion of your hands. As each inch of skin became visible, you felt more excitement, but tried to keep from showing it. Act like you’re an adult.

 Your resolve lasted until you had the shirt halfway up his body, the skin of his toned abdomen the same gorgeously tanned color as the backs of his hands and his neck, and you let out a quiet whimper, digging your teeth into your lower lip as your eyes landed there. He’s… of course he looks like this under that armor, because … Your gaze flicked upward, and then back down after he nodded at you, raising his arms, too. 

 He helped you, pulling both arms out of the sleeves, but leaned forward slightly, letting you carefully pull the opening for his neck over the helmet. You were so focused on what you were doing that you didn’t get a good look at him until the shirt joined yours on the floor and Din’s upper body was completely bared to you, the overhead lighting doing little to hide any part of him. “Din, you’re…” You blinked, hesitantly raising your hand to his chest, and when he didn’t move away, you laid it against his skin, closing your eyes and exhaling at the contact. You were only getting vague emotions from him, but you knew that he was just as excited as you, the man’s chest rising and falling with each breath he took, and when your second hand joined the first, both of them gliding up from his abdomen, he sighed out your name, one of his hands reaching for you. “And you’re giving me shit about hiding under an oversized shirt?” You blew out another breath, head shaking back and forth slowly. “This is what you’re keeping under all that beskar?”

 He chuckled at that, shrugging his shoulders, but you were too focused on what you were doing to pay close attention to the movement. Din’s body was toned muscle from the waist up, and you had a feeling that it was mainly from the weight of the armor he wore day in and day out, but figured that the training he’d gone through as he aged, along with the fights he got into with bounties and other enemies helped to keep him in shape. He was thin but not skinny, body growing more broad as you neared his shoulders, and you couldn’t help stepping even closer, his hand moving to the side of your head and his fingers curling against your hair. “I have to. The beskar is the only thing keeping me …” But you cut him off as you reached his chest, palms flat against the area typically covered by the widest plates. It’s keeping you alive.

 “Din, when did …” Glancing up, you felt your lip tremble. “I thought that beskar was -” There was a set of long, raised scars that stretched most of the way from the left side his sternum to his shoulder, the thin lines crossed over each other. “What happened?” 

 “Tehk’la blades.” He sighed as you ran your fingers over the old wounds, following the length of them. “A few years after I swore the creed. I didn’t have a full set of armor yet, and my chest plate was … flimsy.” You don’t have to tell me that twice. They weren’t the only scars on his skin, but most of the others were smaller, and though you couldn’t see his back, you assumed that it was the same; littered with the evidence of old fights, from training, proof of the lessons that he’d learned in the hardest ways possible. “I told you I didn’t always have -” 

 “You did tell me.” You leaned in, pressing your lips against the raised lines on his chest, feeling it expand as you did so. Oh, you like that. You wanted to kiss over every inch of his skin, but instead straightened up, continuing to look at him, taking him in inch by inch, heart thudding in your chest as you discovered something new. I was not expecting that. “Is that …” Eyes on his shoulder, you cocked your head to the side, one hand sliding from the front of his body to the muscles of his arm. “Your signet?” 

 “It is.” The jet black ink stood out, and as you traced the edges of the tattoo on his shoulder and bicep, you realized that it was in the same place it would have been if he’d been wearing the armor. And people say that Mandalorians aren’t sentimental… damn. “I’ll tell you about it if you want, but can we … can it wait?” Nodding again, you continued to move your hands over his skin, figuring that whatever the story behind the tattoo was, it would change the tone of the moment, something neither of you wanted to happen. It can wait. He says it can wait.

 “If you want.” He pulled you close at your words, arms circling your body and his palms pressed against your bare back, urging your cheek to rest against his warm skin. The two of you stood quietly in the small room, your grip on his shoulder tightening, Din’s fingertips stroking your skin gently. He got a tattoo of the mudhorn. He… it’s a constant reminder of his clan. Of the kid. Always. 

 You heard nothing but the sounds of the ship, the vibration of the floor almost non-existent beneath your feet, but then Din said your name again, hold on you changing. “Are we just going to stand here, or…” Squeezing your eyes shut, you turned your head and kissed his chest again, working your hands between your bodies and down, the ridges of his muscles firm beneath your touch. He let you undo the button on his pants as you mouthed the skin of his neck, teeth grazing over his throat, the bottom edge of his helmet rubbing against the bridge of your nose. He’s right, this could be distracting, it’s cold. Din groaned as you began to push his pants down and over his hips, his hold on you loosening, large hands moving from your back and to your hips before tightening again. Yes, please. You nodded, knowing that he could feel it, hoping that he understood that you meant you wanted him to continue. I do. I want him to ...  You heard the button at your waist pop just as his pants cleared his thighs, the material sliding down his legs with ease. He’s in … just his … 

 Finally, you moved backwards - just a half step, but enough to see his body - and you felt your knees weaken. He … He hadn’t been lying about the old injuries, there were small and poorly healed scars leading down beneath the waistband of his underwear, others on his legs - one of his kneecaps was oddly misshapen, as if he’d dislocated it or even broken it at least once before, but the wound you’d been there to heal was already almost completely invisible, only a small, light-colored scar remaining as a reminder of the fact that he’d been poisoned only a few weeks prior, nearly gored to death by a Charnoq. But he wasn’t. Because I didn’t let it happen.

 You couldn’t help dropping to your knees to get a better look, fingers trailing down over his skin, and when you finally reached the leg you’d worked on, you chewed on your lip, leaning in. “That bacta really …” He tensed under your touch, and you looked up, wanting to make sure that you hadn’t said anything wrong, but the remainder of the sentence died on your tongue, eyes going wide. Before Din, the idea of being in the position you were in with someone whose face you’d never seen hadn’t even crossed your mind. But as you stared up at him, his right arm lifting to cradle your cheek in his hand, the helmet - and his head - tilted to one side, the majority of the rest of his body uncovered, it didn’t matter. “Din, I …” I don’t even know what I want to say, but it… I never thought I’d be here.

 “You need to stand up.” You heard the strain in his voice at the words, and after a brief pause, you rose again, hands hanging by your sides as you straightened your back. “As much as I… liked seeing you like that, it’s not …” He was touching you again, hands back at your waist, thumbs hooked between your pants and skin. “Not where this is going tonight.” Oh, it’s not? “Let me get these off of you.” Somehow, his voice dropped even lower, and you could almost imagine the expression on his face; the hunger in his eyes increasing by the second. But how? I don’t even know what he looks like, or what color his eyes are, or - “Alright?” 

 “Yes.” Raising one hand slowly, you laid your palm on the side of his helmet, blinking. “Go ahead.” The metal moved up and down beneath your hand before settling in a downward tilt, and Din’s hands moved too, ridding you of the last major piece of clothing that you wore. Instead of pushing them down quickly, the man took his time with your pants, watching intently as he continued. But you weren’t expecting him to drop to his knees in front of you, the only things you could see the top of his helmet and his upper back and shoulders as he eased the material down around your legs. Oh, shit. He kept going and you reached forward with both hands, bracing yourself on his bare shoulders as you lifted your feet one at a time. We’re both…  Your pants off, you waited for him to stand again, but the man didn’t move, body locked into position in front of you. “Din?” You questioned him softly, not recognizing the sound that left your lips. “Are you -” “I’m just looking.” The words were strained, but he quickly spoke again. “At you.” Chewing on your lip, you didn’t say anything else, deciding to let him go - and see what happened. You didn’t have long to wait, though, one of Din’s hands gripping your ankle and then sliding upward, twisting so that his palm was against the back of your leg. Your stomach lurched at the feeling - but it was in a way that you wouldn’t have been able to describe if anyone had asked. He’s so… Maker, I don’t even know. The man’s touch was gentle, tender, even, as he explored the length of your leg. 

 You felt your muscles tighten as he thumbed the inside of your knee, still kneeling in front of you, and then Din’s other hand joined the first on you, squeezing against your hip when he finally stood, both hands at your waist, to pull you closer to him again.  “Din.” Swallowing the end of the word, you closed your eyes, tucking your head beneath the lower edge of his helmet and against his shoulder. “Din.” The second time you said it, it was in response to the man moving his hands up your back, fingers easing beneath the thickest strap of your bra and then unhooking it. This is happening. He’s really… we’re going to … I want this so much. 

 Yes, you’d known it before, but it was different - having the man’s hands on you, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. You felt it; how much you wanted the man standing in front of you, how much he wanted you, too - not because of the Force, but because of the way you were touching each other; the care he was taking with you, even though he hadn’t really done anything yet. He said your name, and you responded by arching your back away from his chest, Din’s hands working the straps down and over your arms, fully exposing the upper half of your body to him. “Maker.” 

 You let your bra fall to the ground, taking a deep breath, and you felt his fingers twitch against your skin, hands on your sides once again, holding you in place. He didn’t say anything else, and for a few seconds, you didn’t know what to do. He could be doing anything else to me, but he isn’t. I could say something, but … what? He was holding himself back - you knew it, but didn’t know why. “Din?” It pained you to do so, but you lifted both hands, pushing against his bare chest and backing away from him as much as you could without forcing him to let go of you. “What’s wrong?” There was a long silence, and then he spoke, the words not what you expected - or wanted to hear.

 “I can’t do this.” Your heart dropped, and you were ashamed to find that your lower lip was trembling at the admission. Oh. Alright. Rather than betray yourself - his head was still tilted down, and you knew he couldn’t see your face, you bit down on your lip, closing your eyes. Alright, Din. “I can’t…” He turned away from you in one motion, the moment his hands left your body making your knees shake, but before you had a chance to say anything, the room went dark. What? 

 Without warning, you felt hands once again on your body, and then, only moments later, your back was against the wall, Din’s breath warm against the skin of your shoulder. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do this, it was that … “What are you…” Your words turned into a low moan as he bit down on your skin, mouth moving from your shoulder and then lower, fingers digging into the meat of your arms. “Stars, Din, what…” You heard him growl over your words, and at the sound, you grabbed the back of his head, fingers disappearing into the hair there. It seemed as though he’d been waiting for that, because he bit down harder seconds later as your grip tightened, his curls soft against your palm. “Hey.” You couldn’t help the way the single word came out - breathless and needy - and despite how good what he was doing to you felt, you winced, your body going stiff. Din stopped immediately, lifting his mouth from your skin and inhaling, the sound loud. No, I didn’t … “I’m sorry.” 

 “No.” Your hand dropped to the back of his neck, the other one holding the tattooed bicep, and you wet your lips. “I didn’t mean that I wanted you to stop. I … I flinched because of how I sounded. It’s embarra-”

 “It’s not.” He leaned in closer, body pressed to yours at the waist, and you felt his hands running slowly up your sides. His hands are so kriffing big. “I want to hear it.” He kissed your cheek, lips soft and warm against it. “I need to hear it, to hear you.” Lips moving closer to your mouth, he paused. “Without the helmet.” You felt your heart thudding in your chest at that admission, and almost couldn’t believe any of it. You felt emboldened at the admission, changing your grip and moving both hands down and over his chest, nails dragging along the skin. “Is that the only reason you took the helmet off, Din?” For a few moments, you didn’t think he would reply, but then you felt him chuckle, his breath hitting your cheek in short bursts. “No.” You didn’t have a chance to say anything else because Din kissed you again, catching you off guard. The back of your head hit the wall behind you once more, but you tilted it immediately, giving him a better angle - and the man didn’t waste the opening you gave him. His tongue slipped into your mouth as you sighed, but didn’t stay there long - instead, retreating to lap at your lower lip and then along the seam between the two of them. I don’t know what he’s going to do next, but I know I … You cried out as he bit down on the fullest part of your lip, your nails digging into the skin beneath them. But Din didn’t move away, instead rocking his hips against yours and wordlessly proving to you how involved he already was in what was happening.

 He released your lip and you brought your hands back up and toward his shoulders, Din giving you a single nod as they reached the base of his neck, and you let out a shuddering breath as you lifted them higher. He’ll make me stop if he doesn’t want me to. But Din didn’t stop you, and you instead felt the stubbled angles of his jaw beneath your thumbs, the man continuing to nod as he closed the distance between your mouths again, this time kissing you gently. 

 It should have surprised you - the way that he could go from one mood to the next; actions shifting with each breath he took, but you’d seen it from him before - both in person and through Grogu’s thoughts. It’s just how he is, and this is new to him, so … You pulled back to breathe, giving yourself a chance to steady your thoughts. “Hey.” It came out less shaky that time, and you smiled, kissing him again and then pausing. My turn. “We going to stand here all night, or -” 

 “I … you …” He sighed, and you were surprised to feel the tip of one of his fingers stroking along the side of one breast, his other hand still on your side. “I said you don’t know what you agreed to, and I meant it.” What does that mean? “I don’t usually take my time. I don’t … It doesn’t matter what …” You got a thought from him them, and felt the shame along with it, coupled with nonchalance. He doesn’t care about making it good for the other person. “I told you, that everything before has been… habit.” 

 “Well.” You shifted against him, turning your body and felt his hands move, both of them beneath the swell of your chest and supporting the weight of it. “I can tell you I’m already enjoying this.” You hummed, arching your back more and giving him a few seconds to adjust his hold on you - which he did, to your absolute pleasure. “That feels great, Din. You can …” Biting down on your lower lip, you let out a quiet sigh. “Keep doing that here, or we can get into the bed, and …” The rough pad of one thumb passed over a peaked nipple and you nearly moaned at the feeling but held it together, waiting to see what he’d do next. 

 Din didn’t disappoint, the other hand following the first, but he did surprise you, lowering his head and pressing a trail of wet kisses to the top curve of your breasts, tongue trailing after his lips. He’s never done this before? There’s no way, he knows exactly what he … But your thoughts scattered as he closed his lips around the hardened bud of one nipple, sucking and then flicking his tongue against it - tentatively the first few times and then with more purpose as you hummed quietly. Maker, he … His attention shifted, the Mandalorian repeating his actions on the other side of your body, and you realized quickly that you’d changed positions, shifting so that your shoulders were pressed against the wall behind you, but your back was not, giving him the best possible angle with your chest pushed out toward him. I couldn’t get closer this way if I wanted to.

 He wasn’t touching any part of you aside from your chest, and though you could have moved your hands to any part of his body, you kept them where they were, one hand cupping the back of his head, the other firmly pressed to the bicep bearing the mudhorn tattoo. As good as it felt, you only let him continue for a few moments longer, whispering his name and tugging on the ends of his hair. “What?” He murmured the word without lifting his mouth from your chest, and only a second later, you felt his teeth close around one nipple, the twinge of pain making you gasp his name. Do I want him to stop? No. When you didn’t speak up, instead of questioning you further, Din slowly made his way back up from your chest to your throat without lifting his lips fully from your skin, finally kissing you again. 

 He pulled away to take a breath, the drag of his teeth against your lower lip sending another charge through your entire body. “You’re pretty good at this.” Finally finding the words to reply, you stroked the back of his head, still too hesitant to move your hand forward to his cheek, even though you wanted to. “For someone that’s never -” 

 “Am I?” He leaned in, lips against your ear. “Well. A Mandalorian has to learn fast.” Din said your name and you shifted again under his touch, the hand on his arm moving to his side and urging him closer. “Lucky for me I’ve got a lot to learn.” Instead of laughing, you cleared your throat quickly, allowing yourself to nuzzle against his cheek, eyes closing. 

 “What’s that word, Din?” You sighed, your lips near his ear. “Jate’kara? I think I’m the lucky one here.” He froze at your use of the word in Mando’a, but it was only momentary, and then he kissed you again - hard, catching you by surprise. Did I say it wrong? He pinned you against the wall with his whole body, the weight of him holding you in place, and then without warning, the man pulled back, hands gripping your hips. “Are you sure?” It took you a second to figure out what he was asking, but then you nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Yes.” One hand moving up to his chest, you said his name. “I’m sure.” It was only a matter of steps from the wall where you stood to the bed, but Din lifted you anyway, holding you to his chest and spinning, barely giving you a chance to get comfortable in his arms before he was leaning forward to put you down onto the mattress, the sheets cool beneath your bare skin. He let you go, and you used the time to scoot backwards and to the center of the space, underwear still on, waiting for Din to get into the bed, too. 

 When he did, the mattress dipping beneath the added weight and then the man taking his place beside you, you let out a breath, closing your eyes. “Are you safe?” The question shocked you, and for a second, you were unable to reply, thoughts racing. Safe? What does - “The women I’m usually with … they take care of it.” Oh. You froze, understanding. Of course they would, they’re…  “But if you aren’t, we can...” 

 “Yes. I’m… safe, Din.” You swallowed hard, heart pounding in your chest. “Here.” You fumbled for his hand in the dark, lifting your other arm and pressing his fingertips against the skin of the back of your bicep. It had made sense for you to get the implant during your travels across the galaxy and to the Academy, just in case. You never know what could happen, you’d told yourself. And after your arrival, you’d never removed it, feeling the same way. At least it’s going to do some good now. “Can you feel it?” He pressed down, taking a deep breath and cutting you off. “I’ve had it for -” 

 “I trust you.” The three words froze you again, and while you knew that he was referring to what you’d just proven to him, you also knew that the man could have said any number of other things to you in that moment. He trusts … oh, Maker. He kissed you before you could reply, lips firm against yours as he gripped your arm, and without thinking, you hooked a leg around one of his, urging him closer. As the man’s weight settled against you, you trailed an arm down his back, inhaling sharply as you realized that he’d removed his underwear - meaning that Din was completely nude and in bed with you. I’m overdressed. Dragging your nails over the dip in his lower back and then down more, you felt his hips shift, rolling into yours. This is happening. But the man didn’t let you touch him for long, instead pulling away and off of you before clearing his throat. “These have to come off.” 

 You felt him hook this fingers beneath the elastic you still wore, and without him asking, you raised your own hips from the mattress, waiting until he’d pulled the material down to lower yourself. You gave him a few seconds to reposition himself, the room silent and dark, the shift of the mattress the only indication that he was even still there. “Din?” You lifted one hand, immediately finding his hip, thumb moving slowly over it. What’s he waiting for? 

 “I wish I could see you.” You could feel the desire in his voice, and for the first time, realized that even though you were in as intimate a position with him as you’d ever been, you couldn’t clearly hear his thoughts. I wonder why, I wonder what… It was confusing - and something for you to think about later, instead choosing to focus on the way it felt to touch him; Din’s skin warm and soft beneath your fingers. I wish I could see you too, Din. 

 “Maybe next time.” You followed the crease of his thigh downward, the tips of your fingers meeting coarse hair on his abdomen. “Focus on me, Din.” You exhaled, breath shaky as your hand reached the base of him, Din’s breath catching - along with yours - as you closed your fingers around him for the first time, his mind finally opening up to you briefly. He’s acting like he’s never … not been able to see. They were slightly incoherent, but they were thoughts nonetheless, and you shook your head twice, sighing. Something else to think about later. “Din.” You moved your hand slowly, getting used to the feel of him. “Please, just...” You squeezed, flexing your knee, and before you’d relaxed it, you felt his hand on your leg and then moving upward, toward the apex of your thighs. 

 He paused only briefly before he touched you, and in that moment, you did get another clear thought - only one word, and one that you echoed in your own thoughts: finally. 

 You couldn’t help the quiet sound that escaped from your throat as his fingers first made contact with you, but it seemed to encourage the man; Din slowing the movement of his hand and leaning forward so that he could kiss you again. Even as he moved, you didn’t let go, rotating your wrist and circling your thumb over the tip of him, feeling dampness against it. Hmm. “This is where you’ve got me beat, Din.” You whispered, nipping at his lip. “Majority of my experience....” You sighed as he slipped a finger into you - only slightly, and then removed it, pausing before he did it again. “Ends with…” But he quieted you with another kiss, tongue making its way back into your mouth and stopping your words. Learn together. That’s… I like that plan. 

 You nodded at his unspoken words, widening the spread of your legs as your hand continued to glide up and down his length, Din’s hips rocking steadily into your grip. Yes. He braced himself next to and above you on both knees and one elbow, that hand resting against the side of your head as he kissed you. With your free hand, you reached between your bodies, slowly moving down your own stomach and meeting Din’s hand between your legs, coating the tips of your fingers in the dampness you felt there. It’ll help me to... “What are you …” He whispered the words, stopping as you curled your slick fingers around him, removing your other hand. “You … Maker.” He lowered his forehead to yours, groaning as you tightened your hold on him, hand moving much more freely as you found a steady rhythm. “E...Enough.” 

 The word came out shakily, and you stopped as soon as you heard it, both of you breathing hard. “Is…” But you didn’t get the whole question out, Din using one hand to cover your hand with his and guide himself into place, his head turning slightly to the side, the tip of his nose resting against the apple of your cheek. He’s going to … You felt him at your entrance, hot and firm, and then with your tiny nod of agreement, Din shifted his hips, pushing into you, both of your hands falling away. 

 He moved slowly, giving you time to adjust, and though he didn’t stop, Din maneuvered himself over your body, one arm going beneath your shoulders, the palm of his hand cradling the back of your head, the other tightly gripping your hip. He stayed on his knees, though he stretched one leg out, closing the distance between your waists and giving himself the ability to lengthen his thrusts without making them harsher. You alright? He wordlessly questioned you, and you nodded again, one hand gripping his shoulder, the fingers of the other - still damp - on his hip, wanting to feel the motion there, too. You hadn’t lied to the man - aside from Bari, you’d only ever been with two others, and neither of them had been as physically imposing as the Mandalorian was. But none of them felt this way, none of them … You groaned as he gripped the sheets next to you with one hand, pushing his upper body back and away from yours, hips snapping forward, your hold on him changing, nails digging into his skin. I like that. I do too. He was strong - there was no doubt about that, but another difference was that with the others, you hadn’t been able to keep them out of your head, unable to focus on your own pleasure because you’d been so caught up in theirs. With Din, even though his emotions were strong - he was happy, he was enjoying himself, and he was lost in you - he wasn’t thinking anything clearly, and it was enough to bring tears to the corners of your eyes as you squeezed them shut. “Feels…” You whined as he kissed you hard, then lowered his mouth to your shoulder, teeth bared against it. “Feels good, Din.” 

 You let go of his arm, hand moving over his shoulder blade and up the center of his neck, stopping at the hairline and pressing down as he drove into you again, this time a little harder. Though it didn’t quite hurt, you knew you’d be sore when he pulled away, but you didn’t care, urging him to continue by bringing your hips up to meet his, hand finally leaving his hip and joining the first at the back of his head. The end of his hair were damp and you toyed with them, even as you felt him panting against your skin, and without thinking about it, you turned your head toward his, feeling the shell of his ear against your lips. You parted them, running your tongue along the inner edge of it and humming, eyes still closed. With him as close as he was, and his hair as damp as it was, you could feel skin beneath it, a small indentation against the back of his neck, and without lifting your fingers, you realized that it was from the edge of his helmet and the way it pressed against his skin. But you’re not in it now. You cried out as he rocked into you, a small adjustment enough to let him slide in deeper than before, and your grip on him tightened, pointer finger filling in the divot left behind from the helmet as your thumb swept through the hair above it. You weren’t prepared for his reaction to that, the movement of his hips speeding up, his mouth replaced by his chin against your shoulder as he turned his head toward you. “Where do you…” It was his turn to groan, but he collected himself quickly, your name leaving his mouth in little more than a whisper. “Not gonna last, not like… tell me where.” You gave yourself only seconds to think, his question a necessary one, but surprised yourself with your reply. “Whatever… Wherever you want, Din.” I’m safe, I told you that, you felt it, you… He continued to move in you, the pace of his hips not faltering despite the decision you were making. “Don’t…” You gasped as he shifted you upward, pulling the top half of your body from the mattress, hands leaving his hair and your arms going back around his shoulders. “Fuck, Din, you…” 

 Your words sent him into motion, the man pulling out of you completely. You felt one of his arms moving, the muscles in his shoulder flexing rapidly as he handled himself, replacing the warmth of you with his fist. “You…” Din swore, and in a sudden burst of boldness, you unwound one arm from around him and reached down, back between your bodies and met his hand. You felt his surprise at the shift for a moment, but then Din’s grip on himself loosened, letting you take over, though he didn’t stop the rocking of his hips, his length sliding easily through your hand, still completely coated in you. Maker, I didn’t know I… But you focused on him, and on the fragments of thoughts you could hear, wanting to give him exactly what he needed, the urge to know what he was thinking overwhelming you. I don’t need to know what he’s thinking to make him happy. “C’mon, Din.” You were panting too, even though he was only touching your back and your side, his body radiating heat, fragments of thoughts filling your head. “Give…” You squeezed as you stroked him, the muscles in Din’s thighs tensing. “I want it, Din.” And you did - more than anything else; wanted to give him the release you knew he was chasing, to make him come apart under your touch. “Please.” Pressing your forehead to his again, you felt his hips stutter and then he tensed in your grip, his breath leaving his mouth in one long exhale and a series of quiet grunts. 

 Without stopping the movement of your hand, you worked him through it, a wet heat coating your abdomen and spreading slowly over your skin with each tensing of his muscles, the movement of his hips less fluid with each passing second. Finally, Din said your name, his voice trembling. I did… I did that to him. I… Any other man would have collapsed on top of you; spreading the stickiness between your bodies as he settled his weight, but Din only eased you backward until you were laying down before he pulled his arm out from beneath you. What is… “You didn’t come, did you.” You know the answer already.

He was still recovering - voice somewhat uneven - but you could sense his determination, and so you answered honestly, even though it wasn’t a question. “No. But I -” That was all it took, Din not letting you finish your sentence to tell him that it didn’t matter, that you hadn’t expected to before he’d replaced the hand between your legs, two fingers sliding back into you without pause. You arched your back off of the mattress,calling out his name, and even though it was less satisfying than the feeling of him inside you, for the first time that night, you shut out everything except your own thoughts, entirely focused on the way he was flexing both fingers within you at the same time that he was sliding them in and out. He… it feels so… 

 Din didn’t know your body - none of the men that you’d been with truly had - but he didn’t let that stop him, lowering himself down next to you and carefully holding his entire length against your side, reminding you of just who you were in bed with. “Bend your knee. Staabi jii. Right now.” He spoke into your ear and you did as he asked, moaning at his use of Mando’a with you and the fact that even though he was focused, he was telling you what you needed to know to understand him. Pulling out of you again, he pushed on your bent leg with his hand, the slickness coating his fingers warm against the inside of your thigh, and then moved his hand back, no hesitation before sliding them into you for a third time. The change in position - although slight, stretched your muscles, giving him a different angle, and even as he continued to speak to you - words in Basic that you clung to; your name, quiet praises, Din swearing - and some in Mando’a that you didn’t understand; olaror jii, Ni aalar gar - you lost yourself in him, and you felt the way your muscles clenched around his fingers, drawing him in deeper. 

 But then they did the same around nothing, and you opened your eyes, forgetting for a second that you couldn’t see anything. Seconds later, you felt the slight drag of Din’s elbow across your ribs, and then heard a quiet sucking sound. He’s … oh Maker he’s got his fingers in …  You heard his thought at the same time he spoke it out loud, the word barely more than a whisper, but directly into your ear. “Jatisyc.” He hummed quietly after the word, chest vibrating against your arm, and then Din’s hand was back between your legs, his fingers back inside of you while his thumb circled just above your opening, but with hardly any pressure. “Din.” You raised your hips, hearing him hum again into your ear, and  then the pressure increased, Din rubbing tight circles against the spot that his fingers couldn’t hit while they were buried in you. After only a few passes of the well-calloused pad, it was your turn to come undone, your hand gripping his bicep tightly enough to bruise - you were almost sure of it. Sorry, Din.

 But even that didn’t deter him, Din keeping the movement of his fingers going as you rocked your hips into his hand, his lips pressed against the side of your neck and the smile on them unmistakable, even through the waves of pleasure you felt. I’ve never … not like that. Not … That time, it was your thoughts that were scattered, uneven and incomplete until you weakly pushed on his arm, whispering his name. “Stars, Din, that…” You spoke quietly, gulping in a breath, and only went quiet when he put his hand on your hip again, saying your name. “Hmm?” 

 “I’ll be right back.” No. Wait. What? “I’m going to get a -”

 “No.” There was force behind the word, and you quickly corrected it, clearing your throat. “Not yet, Din. Don’t…” He relaxed next to you, and you could feel the tension leaving his body, though his heart rate was still elevated - as was yours. But one of us needs to… “There’s a towel, Din. On the table?” He moved as you spoke, and only a few seconds later, you felt the material swiping over your stomach, taking the mess he’d left with it. “You don’t have to ..” But he kept going, and then, after he’d finished there was a short pause and he said your name. “Yeah?” 

 “Folded it. You can …” Finish. Taking the towel from him with a grin on your face at the fact that he’d again folded the material, you made quick work of the rest of your body, letting out a shaky breath as you made contact with the still sensitive skin between your legs. Dropping the towel to the floor, you rolled toward the man, cautiously reaching up. He didn’t flinch when you touched the side of his head, and so you leaned in, kissing the center of his chest and  then pulling back. Wait a second. 

 “Din?” He settled his hand on your back, but made no move to draw you closer. “What was the last thing you said to me? In Mando’a, after you …” There was no hesitation as he replied, leaning in and whispering the words into your ear. “Said you tasted good.” He hummed, the sound closer to a laugh. “Jatisyc.” He paused. “Delicious.” You froze, stunned, but the man didn’t give you a chance to reply before he turned his head and kissed you, lips meeting yours in confirmation that he stood behind what he said. That … he… there … Meant it. 

 “I know you did, Din.” You murmured the words, scooting closer to him and feeling his hold on you tighten. “And I also know you’re going to get up and go back into the cockpit, but… Will you stay here? Just for -” Just a few minutes.

“Yes.” He lifted his leg, hooking it over yours, fingers making their way through your hair as you moved your hand slowly over his back. “I’m not going anywhere.” You didn’t mean to, but you fell asleep a few minutes later, the Mandalorian’s heartbeat steady against your cheek, and his thoughts - the man completely content - once again filling your head. 

---

Tag list is OPEN. 

Magnetic/Din Djarin Tag List :@the-blind-assassin-12 @pheedraws @alraedesigns @malionnes @deceiverofgodss @thisisparadisemylove @siegfriedkingsglaive @valkblue @hehe-oof @jynrumbly @psychedelic-star  @nuttyenthusiastdetective @gingib @bitchylittleredhead​ @littlemissoblivious @misguidedandbeguiled @cannedsoupsucks @greatcircle79​ @thisshipwillsail316​ @mandosmistress​ @tanzthompson​ @voteforpedropascal​​

[tobesolonely]

muse

A/n: hello everyone!! im very excited to put this out :-) i was going to make a long one shot but ive never written anything multi-part before and i wanted to give it a go!! also my first time with an oc 🌟so i hope everyone enjoys!! not sure when the next part will come out but i wanna upload at least once a week or every two weeks or something idk haha but anywayssss lmk ur thoughts!

biggest, biggest thank u to my love @harryysstyless​ for beta reading and being so encouraging<333 luv u!!

photographer oc x harry styles

please let me know your thoughts on miss aminah, iman, serena, and harry!

my ko-fi! thank you :)

Los Angeles was your newest muse.

You had always been the spontaneous type. It came as no shock to your family and friends when you told them you had purchased a one-way ticket and were moving across the country. Although your parents weren’t too keen on the idea of their daughter moving so far away from them, they helped you withdraw your savings and find a modest apartment in LA before sending you on your way.

Your reason for moving to LA was simple, really. You were a freelance photographer that felt your career was growing rather… stagnant. You had a thick portfolio and were proud of the work you produced, but your clientele wasn’t as impressive as you’d hope it would be after nearly six years of working at it.

And so began your desire to move from New York to Los Angeles— one big city to the next.

People who knew you often described you as ambitious, fiery, and an absolute go-getter. If your big move scared you in any way, no one knew any better. Your confidence never faltered— not even in the slightest.

After nearly three months of being in LA, you developed a routine of sorts. You’d wake up, eat a breakfast that almost always consisted of avocado toast and coffee, and go on a run. After your run, you would come home, shower, and decide how far you wanted to venture to take pictures that day.

Sometimes your roommates, Serena and Iman, would join you to keep you company. Although you’d never met either one of them before answering their ad for a roommate on Craigslist, you had grown extremely close to the girls in the few months that you’d known them. Despite the two girls being friends since their childhood, they never made you feel left out, and you fit in with them effortlessly.

During your short time in the city, there were so many places you had been, but still, even more you had yet to see. Serena and Iman, both native Angelenos, would often suggest spots for you to check out and even offer to drive you around— you were from New York after all, and at twenty-four years old, you were still not the owner of a driver's license.

“You’ve never been to North Hollywood yet, right Aminah?” Iman questioned as you all lounged around, trying to come up with a place you had not yet been.

“No, I haven’t really gone anywhere farther than walking distance,” you reply, looking around the cramped living room for your camera bag. “Or the places you guys have driven me. That was still considered Downtown though, right? Where we went the other day?” You were still getting used to how absolutely massive Los Angeles was.

“We should go to Santa Monica or something— wait, Malibu!” Serena exclaims. “We have to go to Malibu, Mina. It’s so nice there, you could totally get a bunch of good shots.”

“Yeah, we might even see a celebrity!” Iman chimes in, stifling laughter.

It was an on-going joke between the three of you. When you first moved to LA, you told your roommates that you couldn’t wait to make your way around the city because you were hoping to run into a celebrity. It was Los Angeles after all— you figured they were everywhere.

You quickly learned that wasn’t the case. Celebrities here kept a low-profile and even if you did encounter a celebrity, it’s not like you would approach them. “You’re not funny, Iman,” you tell your roommate with a roll of your eyes.

“Yes I am,” Iman quips, wiggling her eyebrows. “If we’re gonna go to Malibu then I gotta change. Can I borrow a cute shirt from anyone?”

A short twenty minutes later, the three of you were piled in Serena’s car on your way to Malibu. You’d heard of the city before and knew it was a wealthy area, but that’s about it. Your roommates promised you that out of all the beaches in LA, Malibu had the nicest ones, and lots of places to take pictures. Since none of you had anything to do, you all decided it was as good a day as any to have a beach day and get some shots of your roommates to add to your portfolio. Since you didn’t know anyone except Serena and Iman, the pictures on your camera from the last few months consisted entirely of nature and inanimate objects. While it was good practice, you really preferred to photograph actual people.

“Traffic is so bad today,” you say from the backseat after traveling approximately two feet in five minutes. Iman snorts from the passenger side.

“When isn’t traffic bad, Mina,” she turns to look at you, an amused look on her face. “Don’t worry about it. It always gets backed up at this fuckin’ exit and then as soon as we get past it there’s like, zero traffic.”

“Right! I always complain about how shitty this exit is. I have no clue who designed it,” Serena adds, skipping through songs on her playlist. “It’s still early in the day, though. I’m just hoping the beach won’t be too crowded by the time we get there.”

“I don’t care how crowded the beach is. I just don’t want it to take us forty minutes to find parking…”

You tune out your roommate's voices, instead choosing to focus on the traffic jam outside the car. To Serena and Iman, people who were born and raised in Los Angeles, the city wasn’t necessarily anything special. Sure, they loved how there was always something to do, but the bad drivers, traffic, and smog got old. The novelty of LA hadn’t yet worn off to you, though. You didn’t know how your roommates were content to sit inside the apartment all day when there were tons of things to do basically right outside your doorstep. You felt like you were the one convincing them to go out with you half of the time, and you didn’t even know where you were going.

After what feels like almost entirely too long but was really only half an hour, Serena pulls into a fairly empty parking lot. “Are we not allowed to be here?”

“Why do you think that?” Iman asks, squinting her eyes to read a sign. “It doesn’t say it’s closed. I mean, there are a few cars–– look.” She points to a few cars scattered around the parking lot.

“I mean, it is nine in the morning on a Wednesday. People are probably at work,” you tell the two girls in the front seat. “Besides, there’s someone in the parking booth. Can you even close a beach?”

Serena drives forward, rolling down her window. “I mean, I guess not. You can close the parking lot, though.” You hum in agreement. She quickly pays for parking and tosses her receipt on the dashboard before driving slowly through the parking lot.

“I love when no one’s at the beach,” Iman sighs, clapping her hands. “No one will get in the way of your picture-taking either, Meens.”

You smile at the nickname. “Yeah, that’s true. We picked a perfect time to come too, guys. The lighting’s great.”

“Really? Is it gonna make my skin pop?” Iman turns around and sticks her arm out, sensually running her fingers along it.

“You always look good no matter what the lighting’s like, Iman,” you reply, refraining from rolling your eyes at her. “You have the glowiest complexion out of all of us.”

“We’re literally all the same skin-tone, Aminah,” she retorts, crossing her arms.

“We have different undertones, though,” you answer. “So not really. Plus, Serena is way lighter than us! What are you talking about?”

“Should I park here?” Serena asks, interrupting your conversation.

“Why here? All these empty spots and you wanna park directly next to this car?”

“This is a good spot, Iman. It’s a parking lot. If they didn’t want anyone to park next to them, they should’ve taken an Uber and got dropped off.” She turns into the spot, quickly putting the car in park and crossing her arms to prove her point.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, smiling at your friends’ bickering. They were so close they were basically sisters. They argued sometimes and were quick to call the other out on their shit, and you loved it.

“I just think you’re weird for parking next to this car. It’s a nice car.”

“Who cares, girl?” Serena groans, exasperated. “We’re gonna be on the beach. They’ll probably be gone before we will.” She pops the trunk before unplugging her phone from the aux cord and stepping outside. Iman mimics her before flinging the door open as well and stepping out of the car.

You make sure your camera bag is closed all the way before situating it over your shoulder and climbing out of the car as well.

“It’s kinda cold,” Iman says, wrapping her arms around her body. “If I knew it would be so overcast I would’ve bought a jacket.” Serena hums in agreement and you look up at the sky, unphased.

“It’s like, seventy degrees?” you look at the weather app on your phone in confirmation.

“We get it, Meens. You’re from New York,” Serena teases, closing her trunk. She hands you a few towels and a blanket to carry while she rolls the cooler and Iman carries the beach chairs and umbrella.

“It’s a cold seventy degrees and you know it,” Iman defends. “Look at my goosebumps. I can’t fake this shit.” You shake your head at your overly dramatic friends and follow them down to the beach. You take off your sandals as soon as you’re off the pavement, wiggling your toes in the cold sand.

“We can set up pretty much wherever we want,” Serena points out, tucking flyaway curls behind her ears. “Where do you think the best place to be is, Mina? Y’know, so you can get good pictures?”

“It doesn’t really matter, to be honest,” you tell them distractedly, too busy looking around the beach in awe. Your friends were right–– out of all the beaches you’d visited in Los Angeles so far, this one was the nicest (and cleanest). “Maybe we can get a little closer to the water?”

The three of you walk for a couple of minutes before Iman abruptly stops, dramatically dropping everything she was carrying. “Let’s just set up here. There’s no one around anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“There actually is someone around,” you tell them, looking at a stranger who seemed to be fixated on staring at you and your friends. “Don’t look, but a cute guy is staring at us.” Serena and Iman immediately turn around, shading their eyes from the bit of sun that was starting to peek through the clouds. The guy couldn’t have been more than twenty yards away from where you were setting up.

...“Huh,” Serena says, turning back around. “Is it just me, or does that guy look a lot like Harry Styles?” She looks back over her shoulder again, but he’s no longer staring at the three of you, focusing on what appeared to be a book instead.

“Why would Harry Styles be at the beach by himself at nine in the morning?” Iman asks, unfolding a beach chair and flopping down on it.

“Why wouldn’t he? It’s Malibu, dude,” Serena responds. You could tell your friends were about to start bickering again, so you quickly jump in.

“Doesn’t matter. Neither one of you would go up to him even if it was, so what’s the point in arguing about it?” They both raise their eyebrows at you.

“And you would, Mina? Bullshit!” Iman exclaims, laughing. “I dare you to go see if it’s him, and if it is, ask him if he wants to join us.”

“That’s weird! What if it’s not him?”

“Even if it’s not him, we’ll still get to hang out with a cute boy.” Iman points out. Serena nods in agreement and you can’t deny that she makes a convincing argument. “Just ask him if he wants a mimosa or something!”

“No, don’t ask that,” Serena interjects. “Tell him that you’re a photographer and you’re working on building a new portfolio. Ask him if he would be cool with you photographing him.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Are you sure that’s not weird, Serena?”

“Aminah, trust me. I wouldn’t deliberately let you make yourself look weird.” Your roommate reassures you.

And so you found yourself clearing the short distance to where the handsome stranger was laid, half hoping it was Harry Styles, half hoping it was not. You couldn’t act like you weren’t a fan of him–– you thought he was incredibly attractive and enjoyed his music just like most people. If Harry Styles was the first celebrity you encountered during your short time in Los Angeles, you‘d never stop talking about it. Ever.

When you’re almost to him he looks up, dog-earring the page he’s on. After making eye contact with him, there’s no mistaking that this is Harry Styles. You pinch the back of your hand, urging yourself not to freak out. He has a knowing look on his face and you’re grateful for your darker complexion that hides your blush.

“Hi,” you speak first, stopping a few feet away from him. “Uh, my friends and I are just uh, we’re... you know.” You internally wince at your inability to form a coherent sentence. His gaze never breaks from yours and you look away first, growing shyer by the second. If you thought he was beautiful on Instagram, he was even more gorgeous in person. It was incredible.

“Hi,” he finally says after a brief moment of silence. “‘M sorry if I was starin’ at you ladies a moment ago. I jus’ usually never see anyone else this early out here. Are you a photographer?”

You almost ask him how he knows when you realize your camera is still hanging around your neck. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I am.” He’s still staring intently at you.

“Would you like to sit?”

You look over your shoulder at Serena and Iman who were pretending to be preoccupied putting on sunscreen, but you know they were waiting for you to come back with the man you now knew to be Harry Styles.

“Oh, my friends are waiting for me,” Harry looks up at you patiently, waiting for you to continue speaking. “I was actually going to photograph them. I’m working on building up my portfolio. I understand if you can’t for… I dunno, legal reasons? Or if you just don’t want to–– and that’s fine if you don’t, but would it be okay if I photographed you as well?”

“That actually sounds like a lot of fun. It’s kinda boring jus’ readin’ out here on my own,” he agrees quickly, surprising you. Harry stands up and stretches a bit before leaning down to gather up his blanket, towel, water bottle, and book. “What’s your name? I’m Harry.”

You know that Harry knows that you know exactly who he is, but the fact that he introduced himself to you makes him even more endearing. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Aminah.”

Harry extends his free hand to you. “It’s very nice to meet you, Aminah.” You love the way your name sounds coming out of his mouth.

As you approach Serena and Iman, their eyes go wide when they realize it really was him. Serena nudges Iman and you know without even having heard it that she’s saying, “I told you so!” Harry stops a bit behind you, smiling at them.

“Hello,” he starts. “S’okay if I join you ladies? Aminah here extended such a nice offer that I jus’ couldn’t pass it up, but wanna check with the two of you first.”

Serena’s mouth is shamelessly hanging open, and you realize that she may have been a bigger fan than she let on. Iman answers for them. “Of course! Mina’s building her portfolio and I bet it would look like, super cool, if you were a part of it!” Harry nods, setting the few things he had with him down.

“I don’t think I would even be the center of attention if ‘m sittin’ beside you beautiful ladies. I’ll jus’ act as a prop or something,” he flashes them a dimpled smile. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are your names? I’m Harry.”

“We know,” Iman answers a little too quickly. “I’m Iman and this is Serena.” Serena gives him a timid wave.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you all. Are you guys from around here?” He lays his blanket beside all of your stuff and sits down cross-legged, not once breaking eye contact with any of you. You had no idea how he did it.

“We live Downtown. We’re only over here so Mina could get some good pictures, she’s a photographer,” Iman answers proudly. “She’s amazing, but she’ll never admit it.”

“Iman…,” you trail off. “Stop, dude.”

“It’s true,” Serena jumps into the conversation, now seemingly over the initial shock of who was sitting barely two feet away from her. “She’s the best photographer I know.” Harry turns to look at you, an amused look on his face.

“That’s a hefty claim. I can’t wait to see your photography skills, Aminah.”

“They’re just hyping me up,” you reply, making a mental note to yell at your friends for embarrassing you once the three of you were alone again. “I’m not that good.”

“That looks pretty professional to me,” Harry says, gesturing to the camera that has not yet left your neck since arriving at the beach. “I bet you’re just as good as they say you are.” You look away, hiding your face. Iman, being the wing woman she is, can tell you’re growing flustered from all the attention and moves the conversation away from you.

“Do any of y’all want a mimosa?” Before anyone can even answer her, she’s popping open the champagne and handing the orange juice to Serena to open. Harry politely declines, as he drove himself to the beach that morning. You and Iman are ultimately the only ones who indulge in a drink since you were the only ones not driving.

Talking to Harry was like catching up with an old friend. He wanted to know everything about the three of you and whenever he felt the conversation was becoming too much about him, he quickly changed the subject. Harry learned that Iman and Serena have been friends since the second grade when Iman pushed some boy off of the monkey bars for teasing Serena. He learned your favorite take-out spots, your favorite bars, and what freeways Iman and Serena tried to avoid at all cost (it was the 405, which he agreed with). What seemed to intrigue Harry the most, though, was him learning that you just moved from New York and had never even been to Los Angeles before moving.

“Why did you pick somewhere all the way across the country that you’d never even vacationed at before?” He had a look of confusion written across his face. You shrug, not really knowing the answer.

“I mean, I’ve seen it on TV shows and in movies. That doesn’t count?” you joke. Harry still looks utterly bewildered.

“I mean… no?”

Serena laughs. “We were just as confused as you were, Harry. We were scared for a moment when she moved in because we were like, oh shit, what if she’s insane? You know? Like, what sane person would move all the way across the country to live somewhere they’d never even vacationed before?”

You let out an offended, “heyyyy”, lightly smacking Serena’s thigh. “I just needed a change and I’m a drastic person! I either go all-in when I do something, or I just don’t do it at all.” You defend yourself.

“I actually think that’s really fuckin’ cool,” Harry says after a moment. “Sometimes I wish I could just… up an’ go. Y’know?” you all nod, and it falls silent again. “Well, should we take some pictures now?”

Any intimidation you felt to photograph Harry disappeared as soon as he started posing for you.

Being that he was a major celebrity, he was no stranger to posing for a photoshoot. Harry was ethereal–– you knew the pictures of him would most likely require minimal to no editing. Serena and Iman also looked incredible, and you were thankful to have such gorgeous people as your muses. You were taking pictures of them in various places around the beach, only stopping once it started getting too crowded. There were starting to be too many people in the background of your shots and Harry wanted to get going, not particularly in the mood to be recognized. The three of you decide you should get going too. You had more than enough pictures to go through and besides, you were all starting to grow hungry.

Harry follows the three of you to the parking lot, keeping his head down the entire way. The closer you got to Serena’s car, the sadder you got. You didn’t want to stop talking to Harry and photographing him. However, you knew you were just in the right place at the right time, and it was likely that you’d never cross paths with him any time soon–– if ever again.

“Thank you for letting me photograph you,” you tell him sincerely once you were almost to Serena’s car. “That was really kind of you. I can promise you I won’t post them anywhere without your permission or like, disclose the location or anything like that.”

Harry finally looks up, determining you were far enough away from the crowds and he was no longer at risk of getting recognized. “It was my pleasure, really. Thank you for inviting me to hang out with you and your friends. It was a lot of fun getting to know you all.” You feel your body heat up.

“Where did you park?”

“Right there,” Harry points straight ahead. “You?”

You let out a loud laugh, causing Serena and Iman, who was walking slightly ahead of you and Harry, to turn around and look at the two of you. “We parked right next to you! Iman was getting on Serena for parking next to you because the lot was pretty much empty when we got here this morning.”

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess it’s fate that we crossed paths then, yeah?” You let out a quiet hum in agreement, stopping a few feet in front of Serena’s car. You hear her and Iman debating on where you should stop for lunch, but you were waiting to see what Harry would say next.

“Aminah? After you get a chance to look at those pictures, do you think you can send them to my manager? His name’s Jeff. I’d love to see how they come out.”

“Oh yeah, of course! Do you have his business card or something?” You were excited that Harry actually cared to see your work but based on the couple of hours you spent interacting with him, you learned he was just an overall insanely kind person.

“I can jus’ put his contact info in your phone? If you don’t mind,” his gaze falters, a sheepish look on his face.

“Totally! Let me just unlock my phone,” you dig in the pocket of your shorts, pulling your phone out and unlocking it with your face. You hand it over to him and while he’s looking down typing you glance over at your roommates who had shocked looks on their faces. You would explain to them later that he wasn’t giving you his number, just his managers, but for now, you’d let them think he was giving his number to you out of all people–– a total stranger.

Harry hands it back to you a few moments later, running his fingers through his hair. “Thank you again for such a great morning, Aminah. I’ll let you get goin’, don’t wanna hold you ladies up any longer,” he waves at Serena and Iman. “It was really nice to meet all of you. Hope to see you all again soon.” You notice that his gaze lingers on you for a moment when he says that, and you feel your body heat up for what must have been at least the tenth time that day.

The three of you watch as Harry unlocks his car and throws his items haphazardly into the passenger side before climbing in, slamming the door shut. His car starts immediately afterwards and he gives you a quick nod before quickly backing out of the spot, leaving. None of you say anything for a bit, just processing what just happened. Serena is the first one to speak, her hand on the handle of her car door.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Harry fucking Styles?” her voice raises at least two octaves and you know she’s about to have a mini freakout. “Did he ask for your number, Meens?”

“No dude, he just gave me his manager's number. He wants to see how the pictures come out after I edit them,” you tell her, opening the backseat of her car. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh, that’s definitely a big deal, Aminah. Stop being so humble,” Iman tells you, exaggerated annoyance lacing her voice. “Did you see how he looked at you? When he said, ‘Hope to see you all again soon’?” She puts on a terrible posh accent.

“You’re so annoying,” you groan, shaking out the blanket and beach towels before throwing them onto the seat. “Where are we gonna eat?”

Iman and Serena pile into the car as well, telling you about the three restaurants they were stuck choosing between. You hum distractedly, typing the name ‘Jeff’ into your contacts to see if Harry left a number and an email, or just an email. Your brows furrowed in confusion when you see the name is nowhere to be found in your contact list. You chalk up the mistake to Harry just forgetting to press ‘save’ after creating the contact and figure you can just find his manager’s contact information on the internet somewhere. As you’re scrolling back up through your contact list, your eye lands on a name that makes your breath hitch in your throat.

Harry Styles.

[torchwoodfanfests]

Step-by-step guide on how to participate in the Bingo Fest: a manual for the uninitiated

As there may be people who have never participated in a fandom event like this before, we thought we’d provide you all with a step-by-step guide you can refer to throughout the fest in case you have difficulty figuring any of it out.  

This post will walk you through how to sign up and participate in our current fest, but if you have any further doubts don’t hesitate to ask us :)

Step 1: sign up

The first thing you need to do to participate is to go to this google form to sign up. Signups will be open from June 25th to July 31st. All that we require is a way to contact you (like an email or your tumblr url) so we can send you your bingo card. Once you’ve done that, you’ll receive your card shortly and can start creating!

Step 2: the bingo card

Here is an example of what the bingo card will look like:

As you can see, the cards will be 5x5 with a total of 25 prompts. After you read all the prompts, consider which one(s) you’d like to use as inspiration. Some people start with whichever prompt inspires them, some try to find which line of prompts they like the best (remember you get bingo by completing a straight line of 5 prompts, horizontally, vertically or diagonally). Some even attempt to complete the entire bingo card!

Once you decide which prompt(s) you’ll use, get started on your writing and/or art! You can combine different prompts for one piece or make one fanwork for each. For example, you can use the prompts ‘family’ and ‘prequel’ in one work. Remember that for this fest we set a minimum word count of 500 words per prompt for written fanworks, so if you choose to combine prompts into one fic, the minimum word count adds up (if you choose to combine ‘prequel’ and ‘family’, that’s 2 prompts, so that fic should have at least 1000 words; if you choose to combine ‘prequel’, ‘family’ and ‘torchwood one’ into one fic, the word count should be at least 1500 words, and so on). There is no maximum word count.

Artists can combine as many prompts into one piece as they want, but the total number of individual art pieces we require for bingo is three fanworks (can be a mix of different types of art). Participants can also combine writing and art as their submissions to get bingo.

For fanvideos and video edits you need a minimum of 30 seconds per square to fill the prompt. Prompts can be combined, and there is no maximum length. For playlists and tracklists, you need at least 3 tracks per prompt, plus a few lines of text to tell the story you’re putting together. This explanation can be written however you want, it can read like a summary of the story, like not!fic, like a short drabble, or you can just say why you picked the songs (e.g. “I picked this song because this lyric fits how this character was feeling when X happened”, or “this song illustrates this character’s opinion about Y”). As usual, prompts can be combined, and there is no maximum length.

Let’s use the sample bingo card to give you some examples of what completing a line might look like.

Note: for the prompt squares that have more than one option separated by slashes (like “plants/vegetables”) you need to use only one of them, the slash stands for “or” in this case.

Example 1: vertical line bingo (writing)

Fic #1: bed sharing, 650 words

Fic #2: rarepair + meet the family, 1000 words

Fic #3: torchwood one, 1400 words

Fic #4: the hub goes on lockdown, 520 words

In this case, each fic reaches the minimum word count of 500 words per prompt, as you can see. This could also look like one fic of at least 2500 words which hits all the prompts. More on posting after a few more examples.

Example 2: diagonal line bingo (art)

Art piece #1: bed sharing, moodboard

Art piece #2: crossover+undercover, digital painting

Art piece #3: family, edit

Art piece #4: plants/vegetables, digital painting

This example has one piece that combines two prompts, and three pieces for single prompts. With a total of four pieces, this counts as bingo (minimum for art submissions is a total of three if all your fanworks are art).

Example 3: horizontal line (writing+art)

Fic #1: torchwood one+prequel, 1200 words

Fic #2: family, 2000 words

Art #1: dancing, traditional drawing

Art #2: andy davidson, 30-second video

This example combines different types of fanworks and clears all the requirements (at least 500 word count per prompt and more than three pieces total).

Sidenote: if you’re having trouble thinking of what to do with a prompt, a good way to come up with ideas is to crowdsource the brainstorming process! Post about it on your blog asking for suggestions, ask a friend, discuss it in groupchats with other fans, or send us an ask for some suggestions.

Remember, you don’t have to go with the most obvious interpretation of a prompt, trope subversion and creative interpretations are welcome here! You got ‘mpreg’ but don’t want to get into an mpreg story? Write about Jack mentioning how there’s a humanoid alien race where men are the ones who get pregnant! Or have him make a comment about a male friend of his from the 51st century who carried a child. Or have any male character have a dream about being pregnant, whether that’s possible for them or not (and this is Torchwood, so nothing is quite impossible). Take the prompt and twist it into something you like!

Step 3: posting your works!

Once you start completing some fanworks, you can post them at any point for the duration of the fest (June 25th to August 25th). While you do not have to post them as you make them and could wait until the last day, we do not recommend that as we foresee there will be more people finishing some works at the last minute and so it’ll be easier for your fanworks to get attention if you post them early.

The posting process is simple: you need to post your work on your own tumblr first. This post needs to have: 1) the fanwork or a link to the fanwork, and 2) any relevant content warnings (check our list of mandatory content warnings here). Please note that anything that requires a content warning (including sexually explicit content) should be under a cut.

For fic, we recommend that you share some information in order to give potential readers an idea of what it’s about (title, summary, rating, prompt, and you can add an author’s note or more details if you want), and if you post to ao3, you should add it to our ao3 collection! You can do this when you first post it (or go back to edit later) under ‘Associations> Post to Collections / Challenges’, where you simply have to type torchwoodbingo2021 and select our collection. Art and fanvids can also be posted to ao3 and added to the collection!

Step 4: submitting your work for us to reblog

After you post your fanwork to your tumblr, you need to copy the link of the post and submit it to this google form so we can reblog it. We will not reblog posts that don’t have the appropriate content warnings so please be sure to warn as needed.

Step 5: creating your masterpost (optional)

Once you’re done with the fest, whether you’ve managed to get bingo or not (or, if you’re very ambitious, if you’ve cleared the entire card), we would recommend that you make a masterpost with all the works you’ve made for this fest. This is not required, but it’s very satisfying and it’s a good way to look back on what you’ve accomplished and to promote your fanworks again :)

Like the examples above, the typical masterpost would have your bingo card (with the prompts you’ve used marked in some way) and a list of your fanworks with links to each of them and which prompt they fill.

You can submit this masterpost to the same google form as above and we will reblog it as well :)

And that’s it!

If you have any further questions, you can send them here and we will try to answer them as soon as possible.

We hope this post helps clear some doubts about how the fest works and that we get as many people involved as possible ^_^

[ivyglow]

Thinking ‘bout you | Mat Barzal NYI

A/n: Hey, guys! This request was from the song prompt list that @with-the-words-all-wrong​ tagged me, you can check it on her profile <3. I’m sorry I took too long, but I decided to write a whole ass piece and here it is (and guess what? I hated it lmao). 

- Btw if someone wants to proof read my pieces it would be great, just dm me if you’re interested! 

Word count: 3.3k 

Requested prompt:  10 “Can I see you again and not feel bad about it” & 13 “I liked when you cared about me too”

Summary: Y/n and Mat met through mutual friends and it’s not long before they start hooking up. She’s has a wild spirit, he’s looking for someone to settle down. Is it possible to meet the right person at the wrong time?

Flashbacks in Italic! 

Things started slowly but surely people knew it was coming. Since the first time y/n was introduced to Mat’s circle of friends, everyone noticed the way his eyes sparkled with interest and the way she seemed to reciprocate it. They were both young, reckless and any slight chance of love or affection sounded good to Barzal at that time. He was living on his own, and sure most of his time was at practice or out with his friends, but the home-alone time made him think about some things such as settling or at least going for something more serious than the eventual hookups that he would have. 

Y/n was funny and beautiful. God, was she beautiful.

The first thing he noticed about her was the eyes. On that low lighted bar, her eyes were glowing green in contrast with her skin. She was wearing jeans and sneakers, outstanding everyone. She was so simple, and maybe that was the thing that drew him towards her. The feeling of not caring about what people would think, not being open to doing everything as expected but doing it as you wanted to. 

And maybe, just maybe, it was this exact feeling that made y/n choose Mathew. 

Everyone in her family was expecting her to get into a serious relationship as soon as she landed in New York, but as her friend, Kayla would say “New York it’s not the place to find a lover”, and she was well aware of being on the age of glory. Her early twenties and the freedom of living on her own, paying her own bills something she dreamed of since she turned fourteen. 

She wanted to have fun and Mathew Barzal was definitely a funny guy.

They went to many friends’ meetings before finally taking a step on the obvious sexual tension. That did not mean it was time enough to become best friends, it was time enough to become mutuals. He knew some things about her and she knew some about him. He knew, for example, that she hated when people tried to make decisions for her, she liked independence in every way and damn was y/n mad when their friends tried to pair her with Mat before she could make her mind about it. 

The thing she knew about him was that he liked her and she knew it because he was an obvious guy or at least he was obvious when it came to her. Not in the sweet romantic way, but in a cute and affectionate way. 

Or at least that’s what she tried to remember while things started to escalate quickly with movie nights and nights in, or morning sex. They were getting attached, but it wasn’t what y/n planned at all and she knew she had a short amount of time before she would get attached herself. 

It was a Friday night, she had an average day at work and the guys were celebrating friendship, just the possibility of having their small and closed group whenever they needed. These kinds of celebrations started with Kayla, she was the one always wondering and getting the best of life, pulling her focus towards the small details of life that usually made it better. Her biggest fear was to die without enjoying life, y/n was always down for her ideas and shared a fear that looked a lot like Kayla’s.

They were chilling in Tito’s balcony, drinks in hand, enjoying the feeling of the cold New York air hitting their faces and the noises of the city that never sleeps being drowned by the many floors below. Kayla was telling one of her stories while Mat, Joe, Katy, and Isabela listened carefully. Tito was sitting by them but seemed lost on his own little world, the reason why y/n would sometimes call him ‘dreamy boy’. A random song was playing low on the speakers, but everyone heard when y/n finally arrived.

“Why you always late?” Joe asked before swinging the rest of his beer in a long sip. 

“I’m never late…” she faked confusion before going for the wine bottle. “You guys just always early.” 

Mat chuckled and Kayla rolled her eyes slightly, he liked her so much he even found her shitty jokes funny. Or maybe it was just Mathew, he usually was the first one to laugh, anything was fun to him, almost like he didn’t curse or lost his mind every 5 minutes on the ice.

“That one is old, y/n” Tito finally left his dreamy thoughts and provoked his friend. He loved to joke around with y/n, it was like she had an answer for everything and she also happened to be a great listener whenever he needed a sincere opinion that wasn’t from Barzal. 

“You’re getting old too and I’m not saying that in your face...and Mathew laughed, I would say my jokes are aging well” y/n walked over greeting everyone properly. Barzal was the last one and kiss she left too close to his mouth wasn’t unnoticed by  Anthony. 

“Wanna sit with me?” He asked still holding her by the hand. All the available surfaces to sit already occupied. 

“You mean to say ‘sit on you’?!” 

Isabela that was sitting closer to Mat laughed out loud, “You guys are so obvious…” 

“Are you drunk?” y/n replied back trying to sound nonchalant and sitting on Mat’s tights. 

His hands found its way on her waist and she was a bit impressed at how comfortable it felt to be that close. He was wearing his cargo pants and a grey sweatshirt, hair an aesthetic mess at the top of his head and lips glowing from his beer. 

It was short before Kayla went back to her story and y/n start sipping her wine. 

Mat’s hand would travel up and down her waistline under the soft blouse she was wearing and eventually her left hand found his neck hair. It seemed natural, almost as if the exchange of physical affection were something they did every day, and considering their friends were not chirping or making a huge deal out of the situation it seemed even more common. 

“Are you driving home?” y/n asked when Mat finished his second beer bottle and she was still on her first wine glass. 

He turned to look at her, a slightly confused and curious frown on his face. 

“You’re drinking...I know you handle your alcohol just fine, but drink and drive it’s no good” she explains being more detailed than usual. 

Barzal chuckles before pressing a kiss in her cheekbone, “You look cute when you’re worried.”

“It’s not-” she starts but the look on his face says it all, he already knew. He had her figured out so easily sometimes it was scary. “I just wanna sleep in peace knowing all my friends are fine… I care about you.”

“You wouldn’t have this problem if you sleep with me tonight.” 

And indeed, that was the first night they spent together and it was far to be the last. 

Usually, she would be gonna by the sunrise, but this time y/n was exhausted with work and school and having to deal with her family constantly asking about plans they had for her, besides the physical weariness of a whole sex night with Mat. That morning she woke up not to a silent house, but to a shirtless Mat cooking breakfast while blasting her playlist of favorite songs. 

“Normally I woke up without feeling like it, but Frank Ocean is playing and you’re doing pancakes...although I’m not really sure about how the food is going to turn out” y/n walked in the kitchen catching Mathew’s attention. 

“Good morning to you too” he mocked her, glancing at his oversized shirt that hung her body in a baggy way but still so beautiful. 

“You need help there?” she asked going to the water bottle sitting on the counter.

“This is the last pancake, everything’s ready” he walked away from the stove just to wrap one arm around y/n’s middle. 

She thought to herself that Mat was the whole package, he knew her so well, he even put effort into cooking in the mornings they spent together -which were few, but still- and he was a great listener, although he liked to talk just as much. He was funny and hot, and he could do both so easily it was painful sometimes. But instead of voicing her thoughts, she kept to herself and left their silence to hug their bodies together. His face resting on the crook of her neck and her hands brushing his long locks. 

As soon as the song switched to Lost, y/n’s lips left a loud gasp. Mat would be surprised or confused, but it wasn’t his first time seeing her enjoy her favorites Frank Ocean songs, some he knew the entire lyrics. It was funny to see her wildly dancing and singing as if the world would end anytime soon. And it was those same eyes that made him leave breakfast for good and join her private show. They spent almost thirty minutes stuck on the dance-sing-perform-y/n’s-favorites.

These were the moments where they would be more friends than ever. Sharing the intimacy of the voice of each other and the awkward dance moves, getting to know the songs’ preference, and almost getting a noisy complaint by the neighbors.

And so when Mat started to miss her in the mornings and wish her by his side at night he realized that the intimacy of the moments they spent together could fit as a relationship intimacy as well. Y/n was so easy to be around and she would always have her own way of seeing random everyday things. She liked to go straight to the point too, she hated to lie and hated to left people read one thing when she was trying to say another. That’s why when they started to hookup she told Mathew she wasn’t looking for a lover, she liked him for sure, but being in the years of glory and living in New York wasn’t something she wanted to leave for a relationship. 

After almost four months going on like they used to, Mat thought maybe y/n changed her mind. Maybe she liked him as much as he liked her. 

And she was point-blank when Barzal brought the subject, “I like you a lot, but I love my freedom.” She didn’t try to put much into it, telling him about her problems would only make him built hope, and she knew that maybe by the time she was fine with the idea of a serious relationship she could be in love with someone else or even he could be. Y/n liked Mathew indeed and that’s why she left him. 

Keep it up would only hurt him. 

And so they said their goodbyes without a huge fight, but the silence still hurt just as much.

Mat shifted his focus to the season that was about to start, the travel around and games non-stop would take his mind away from how complicated feelings could be sometimes. Y/n, on the other hand, dived into work and school, however, still gets herself wondering about Barzal and how things would turn out if she said yes to his proposition. She missed him in the simple tasks of the day and had to constantly remind that they were not texting each other anymore and no, he definitely did not want to know about the funny dog that ran to her at the park. 

Nevertheless, they had the same group of friends and when the season ended and so did midterms, it was crystal clear that they would need to face each other again. 

It was a Friday night, just like the first time they spent the night together, and she had an awful day at work, still, Kayle was able to drag her to Tito’s apartment where the small group where reunited. This time it was not one of her best friend random celebrations, it was actually because they spent too long without meeting. 

When they finally reached Anthony’s floor y/n still had no idea how she would talk with Mat. She was nervous. They went from 2 a.m calls to zero communication and the lack of it was the reason why she had no idea how he was feeling, if he was doing fine, if he hated her, if he was ok with keeping the friendship etc. 

Everyone was in the living room surrounded by bottles and snacks while a random pop song was playing on the tv. He was the first face she searched for but was nowhere to be found, and so y/n settled for greeting each of her friends with a warm and tight hug. 

Except for Tito, he was the last one on the sofa line, “where’s my wine, Beau?” 

“Kitchen counter” he rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Alright, now I can give you a hug” y/n joked before lowering herself and draping her arms around Anthony’s shoulders.

“Bring me another water bottle too, please” Joe requested when she was making her way towards the other room.

The hardwood floor felt cold against her feet and she enjoyed the feeling, trying to switch her thoughts to something other than why Mathew wasn’t there. But before she was able to, she reached the kitchen and there he was sitting on the stool while working in one of his drinks.

It was like the cold from her feet reached her whole body suddenly and she was nervous again.

Mathew made y/n nervous.

It was new to her and she was torn between trying to figure out more about the unknown feeling or ignoring it by shoving it down her pocket. 

“Hey!” she tried to sound cheerful, but only got a nod as the response.

Y/n couldn’t read him with his eyes away from her, but he seemed a little out of tune. His hair the usual aesthetic mess at the top of his head and his so friendly white sweatshirt. 

She walked over to the freezer reaching the water bottle Joe asked for and then going for the glasses and pouring her so loved wine. 

“For a moment when I walked in and didn’t saw my wine at the coffee table, I thought Tito had forgotten about me” her remark did not bother Mathew that kept working with the lemon and vodka in front of him. The pang on her heart now so much vivid. Maybe he hated her indeed, maybe he was heartbroken after everything they went through. And she couldn’t help but finally let some kind of guilty sink at the top of her stomach. “Can I see you again and not feel bad about it?” 

The thirty seconds of silence were filled with Mat’s breath since y/n was holding hers. 

“What do you mean?” Mat sounded genuinely confused. 

“I mean you ignoring me...I never intended to hurt you, you know?” 

“I’m sorry. I’m not ignoring you, I’m just out of the area today, my sleep schedule is all fucked up and I’ve been a little grumpy lately, there’s nothing to do with you.” 

She wanted to ask how he was doing, if he were hurt when things didn’t go as planned, she even wished to ask about hockey so he would smile bright and big and keep talking for the next two hours. But instead, she took the wine glass and water bottle, making her away to the living room while holding her heart in her hands too. 

Joe started a conversation about vacation and so it was the main topic for two hours straight, and even though Mat knew a lot about the subject he kept his mouth shut, mainly just listening to everyone while sipping his drink. It was unusual considering Barzal was usually the one who couldn’t shut up, you would always hear him on the friends’ get-together either his loud voice or his laugh. 

Y/n found herself looking at Mat right across her, but she was still able to miss him, cause it didn’t felt like he was there. He was far away in all meanings. 

“There’s something I can do to help?” y/n asked while walking to sit beside Mat in the bed they were, certainly, going to share that night, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to make you feel better, I guess you know by now that it wasn’t your fault.”

Mat was moping since he got home, the islanders had lost and the cherry to the cake was the fact that they lost a home game, and y/n was by his side time enough to know that he absolutely hated to lose this way, but she wasn’t time enough to know how she was supposed to deal with it. She wasn’t in the mood for sex and he sure wasn’t too, however she couldn’t stand the pouty lips and the moody Mat, it gave her heart a little pain.

“You don’t need to say anything” he mumbled underneath the covers. 

“But I want to. I care about you, Mathew.” she insisted. “What can I do?”

Mat had this soft smile in the corner of his lips watching y/n sitting by his side and looking at him as if he was the most important thing to her at that moment. ‘I care about you’ wasn’t an ‘I love you’, but it meant something deep and they both knew it. 

“You can just lay with me.” He gave up scooting to the side and opening his arms for her to lay on top of him. “And stay the night.” 

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” y/n’s lips found Mat’s in a slow and sweet kiss that last only some seconds before her face was on the crook of his neck. 

Everyone was too caught up on the conversation to notice y/n walk to the balcony and sit in one of the big cold chairs, everyone except Mat and it didn’t take long for him to grab a blanket and follow. He knew she was barefoot and she usually was cold at night. Mat knew a lot of things he never thought he would when they first started going out. Yes, he was looking for a lover, and yes he wished with all his willpower to be y/n, but she left him dazed, living each day by its time - as it’s supposed to be -. Maybe that was the reason why in the middle of it all he didn’t stop too much to think about how things were turning in an unknown road...and when he did, it took them to the mess they were living. 

Barzal said nothing as he dropped the blanket around y/n’s body and lowered himself to sit by her side. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled a bit dizzy. 

“No need to thank me, I just still care about you, that’s all.” His voice was low but firm. He didn’t sound spiteful, it was as if he was letting himself to be soft after every solid thing that hit both of them. 

And y/n took the time to process that information. 

Mat still care!!!, her insides screaming in pure joy and confusion, and she felt as unsteady as ever. All the ‘what if’s’ making room inside her thoughts. But ‘What if he still cares, but don’t want anything?' ‘What if things don’t work out?’

“I liked when you cared about me too…” Mat voiced taking y/n’s silence as an answer itself. . 

“Mat, I’m just…” she thought for some seconds more, her head still bubbling with doubts. “I still care about you.”

His head was still low, fingers playing with a random bracelet, he was deep in his thoughts just as y/n. 

“I wasn’t ready to commit, I have so much shit going on and it’s a whole package. A relationship is different from how we were working before. It demands a lot more…I also needed these months to think again and again about it.” She ranted while staring at the building in front of them. “But I still do. I still care about you.”

“I wanna give it a try, the whole package, and everything. I like you, y/n.” He whispered, his voice drowned by the noise of the city, but she was still able to hear him, the soft tone, the truth underneath each word. “Just text me and let me know when you’re ready.” 

She nodded while they exchanged a meaningful look. Truth dripping from each other’s eyes along with affection and a new kind of feeling.

They sat there in silence for some minutes, just listening to the city’s noise and feeling the cold air hit their faces before y/n took her phone typing a simple message and sending it to Mat. He looked at her, a hint of amusement and happiness, and she shook her head yes.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Philippe Cohen Solal & Mike Lindsay: A Pop Tribute to Outsider Art

From Left: Mike Linsday, Hannah Peel, Philippe Cohen Solal, Adam Glover; Artwork by Gabriel Jacquel

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Outsider visual artist and writer Henry Darger’s fame was essentially happenstance, so it’s fitting that Philippe Cohen Solal’s decades-long obsession with Darger is chock full of coincidence. In 2003, the member of longtime neotango group Gotan Project found himself with a day off on tour in New York City and decided to venture over to the American Folk Art Museum, a choice that would change his life and culminate in Outsider (¡Ya Basta!), April’s collaborative album with Tunng’s Mike Linsday, the first adaptation of Darger’s words in music. 

At the museum, Solal, unaware not only of Darger but of outsider art in general, saw a Darger work, and, as he told me over the phone earlier this year, “fell in love.” Looking closer at the details of the work, he saw something he recognized: the name Kiyoko Lerner, who had lent the work to the museum. The very same name of a woman he was set to meet the next day in Chicago as recommended by a mutual friend back in Paris. The friend suggested they meet due to their love of tango. “We met and talked a bit about tango,” he said, “but quickly, I asked her about Henry Darger.” She began to tell him exactly who she was, the story that’s become increasingly well-known in the annals of Chicago cultural history.

Lerner and her late husband Nathan (himself a prominent Chicago photographer) were Darger’s landlords; Nathan discovered Darger’s work in his “very messy room” shortly before Darger’s death in 1973, most notably his 15,000+ page novel In The Realms of the Unreal as well as his magazine-traced illustrations and watercolors accompanying the book. (The book, a fantastical epic about child slave rebellions, would go on to inspire visual artists and musicians for decades; indie rock band Vivian Girls took their name from characters in the book, and Darger would even be referenced in The Venture Bros.) Nathan immediately knew he had something special, and he and his wife took control of Darger’s estate. Darger would start to become formally recognized by the art world, his work prominently featured in museums and documentaries. Nathan died in 1997, and Kiyoko would continue to operate as head of the estate and donate her collection to various museums across the world.

In 2006, Kiyoko flew to Paris and met up with Solal at the first Darger exhibition in the city, at La Maison Rouge. It was immediately when he left the show that Solal had the idea to make music inspired by Darger’s art. “At the time, I didn’t [even] know that [Darger] wrote lyrics,” Solal said. “I had no clue.” In reference to Darger’s war between children and adults, Solal had the idea to write “adult music for children,” or vice versa, and wrote a track that wouldn’t even end up 15 years later on Outsider. He visited Kiyoko at her Chicago apartment. “I spent a few days immersed in his art. I didn’t know precisely what I wanted to do, and then I discovered he wrote lyrics. It very much changed the project.” Nobody had thought to put Darger’s lyrics to music, and Solal wanted to put his stamp on the increasingly large pool of reinterpretations of or references to Darger in the arts and culture world at large. Kiyoko put him in touch with art historian Michael Bonesteel, who led Solal to more lyrics.

Not wanting to go at it alone, Solal got the idea to do a collective project adapting Darger’s lyrics to music with various friends. He reached out to the likes of Calexico’s Joey Burns and Lambchop’s Kurt Wagner, but Lindsay was the one who really stuck. Solal and Lindsay were fans of each other’s bands, and the latter visited the American Folk Art Museum while on tour at Solal’s recommendation, he himself rediscovering Darger’s work. In 2015, there was another Darger retrospective at the Paris Museum of Modern Art, and Kiyoko, who attended, suggested to Solal that he reveal his song adaptations of Darger. “I didn’t tell her I only had one song at the time,” he laughed. That was his inspiration to reach out to Lindsay. “I thought maybe I’d do a 5-track EP. I called Mike and reminded him of my project and asked him, ‘Are you ready to work on that with me?’”

Solal and Lindsay separately wrote the melodies and basic arrangements of the songs that would end up on Outsider, and they recorded and produced the record together. Lindsay introduced Solal to Northern Irish musician/singer/multi-instrumentalist Hannah Peel, who would voice the Vivian Girls. Solal asked Adam Glover, a singer he knew through his manager, to be the voice of Darger himself. (“He was very young...but he can sing like Sinatra or Dean Martin,” Solal said.) The four created an album with Darger’s words using traditional pop instrumentation and song structures but also children’s instruments; Peel even created her own music box to play some of the melodies. Sometimes, the words were spoken, as on “Hark Hark, My Friend, Cannon Thunders Are Swelling”, while other times the vocals are isolated in harmony, as on “We Sigh For The Child Slaves”. “We know more about Darger as a painter and visual artist, so it was important to have Darger as a storyteller,” Solal said. Furthermore, the group wanted to capture the raw spirit of Darger’s art by rendering the voices distorted, shifting their pitch to make them sound almost out of tune. The instrumentation, meanwhile, ranges from slinky electric guitars to strings, and even barroom-style piano on the penultimate “We’ll Never Say Goodby” [sic]. “With our small team, it was lean and simple to do this music,” said Solal. While most of the titles and words were taken directly from Darger, down to the spelling of “Goodby”, the album touches on Solal’s story, too. Instrumental interlude “851 Webster Avenue” is named after the address of Lerner’s apartment Solal visited for the first time, when his fascination with Darger really took off.

Solal can’t exactly pinpoint what ever fascinated him about Darger, both in general and as the world changes, but he has some clues. “At the time, what was interesting to me was it was clear [Darger] was a self-taught artist, and maybe I felt a bit moved by that because I’m a self-taught musician,” Solal said. “I never went to music school, but I understood that without any specific art education or practice at an art school, you can create something...Henry Darger is an amazing example of someone who created his own world.” Darger’s style of illustration, his drawings traced from magazines, made up for the fact that he wasn’t a technically great drawer, and it complemented his heightened sense of color. Moreover, Solal feels kinship with some aspects of Darger’s childhood. Part of the inspiration for In The Realms of the Unreal was that Darger himself was sent to an asylum that put children to work. “When he was a kid, everybody called him crazy,” said Solal, “But I’m sure he didn’t think he was crazy. I remember when I was 9 or 10, I thought I was crazy. Nobody called me crazy, but I thought I was.” He found commonalities in, simply, being misunderstood.

Solal also questions what it means to be an “outsider” artist; in reality, Darger spent most of his time inside, confined in a room creating fictional worlds. Funny enough, according to his diaries, he was fascinated with the weather, tracking the accuracy of the predicted versus actual weather, but that’s about all for the outside world. On the day JFK was killed, for instance, Darger had nothing about it in his diary entry. He chose to interact with the world through the magazines he would trace, and through collections of items like Pepto Bismol bottles, National Geographic issues, and broken glasses. He wasn’t much for interpersonal relationships. Not only was Nathan Lerner unaware of Darger’s artistic enterprises, but neither were the young artist couple with whom Darger actually shared his apartment. Solal thinks that Darger’s resistance to presenting himself as an artist was as a result of his childhood experiences. “If the outside world was not so mean to him, maybe he’d be less scared to show who he was to the rest of the world, even just to his neighbors,” he said. “It’s funny that we call him an outsider. He was more an insider but was protecting himself from the outside world.”

Perhaps, subconsciously, the more that creative folks learn to look through Darger’s eyes, the less likely his, or any genius goes unnoticed. Solal remarked that many of the folks involved in Outsider almost had to “unlearn” their craft. Andrew Scheps, who mixed the album, at first didn’t know the context and gave Solal and Lindsay a product that was “too clean;” Lindsay explained Darger’s story and the importance of having strange-sounding narrative effects in the records. “When he worked [after that] on the mix, we found Henry was back in our songs,” said Solal. The individuals involved in coming up with animated videos for each of these songs, French animator Gabriel Jacquel with art direction by Pascal Gary (aka Phormazero), also had to abandon their fundamentals and learn to draw like Darger. Overall, exploring his work provides admirers like Solal the opportunity to dig deeper, from figuring out how to bring Outsider on stage to “finding new ways to tell the story,” like podcasts, interactive maps, short films, and Spotify playlists of Darger’s favorite music. “This man is full of mysteries,” he said. “I hope my future is Outsider for a while.”

[deejadabbles]

A Thousand Songs (Atem/Yami x Reader)

Chapter Three: I Love You

One /// Two /// Three /// Four /// [Five Coming Soon]

Summary: You knew that you and your band could make it big. Not only that, but stay together while doing it; the five of you were family, after all. The only problem was that despite all your musical talents...none of you were particularly good at lyrics. After years of struggling to put out your first full album, the solution finally made himself know in chance meeting on an empty stage.

Rock Band AU, Atem x Reader, gender neutral reader.

Atem’s mind was still reeling as he parked his car in the lot of his building. It had been a normal and rather mundane day at first; he woke, made breakfast, ran his errands, then went to rehearsal. The rehearsal was particularly boring, considering he already memorized their new set of songs for the next show (good thing this was the last few days of rehearsal before the new show debuted). It was likely that very boredom that gave Atem his wistful thought as he packed away his violin. Everyone else had gone, bidding him good night or not even speaking to him as they moved on to their own plans for the night, and Atem found himself alone in the theatre. The stage had always held a bit of...glamour to Atem, and a simple walk around the grand set alone had got him daydreaming- which turned into him singing.

The young man sighed to himself as he rode the elevator up to his floor. He had thought he was singing to himself, that the theatre was empty save for himself and the janitor who was usually outside smoking that time of night. Imagine his surprise when an audience of one had ambushed him the moment his solo was done. He let out another sigh as the elevator stopped.

Atem was careful when opening his door, and the reason why made herself apparent when a delicate ‘mew’ greeted him.

“Hello, Bastet,” he greeted the gray tabby as she rubbed her chin against the door, trying as always to explore beyond the confines of the penthouse.

He scooped her up into his arms as he shut the door, then wandered to the kitchen as his mind continued to replay the odd incident at the theatre. Despite Atem’s shock, the boy- Yugi’s enthusiasm actually made Atem...consider the out-of-the-blue proposal. Him, a first chair violinist, write songs for some rock band? The idea seemed ludicrous at first glance... but, Atem would not deny his interest.

After setting Bastet down on the leather stool by the breakfast bar, Atem pulled out the black business card from his coat pocket, the title “The Dark Magicians” being the first golden text that caught his eye. The name had captured Atem’s interest from the start, though he couldn’t be sure if the name had anything to do with his favorite card from the old Duel Monsters game.

Behind the name of the band, was a circular logo (again, a bit reminiscent of the duel monster) and Atem recognized the symbols of the zodiacs, as well as some other markings he vaguely remembered seeing somewhere, but couldn’t place the meaning of in the moment. Atem then flipped the card over and saw what looked like the names of their social media accounts, but only got a brief glimpse at it before a tug on his coat got his attention.

“Mowo?”

Atem looked down and found Bastet, claws tugging at him and eyes looking expectant. He found himself chuckling and giving her a gentle scratch on the head.

“Sorry, Bastet, you must be hungry, I’ll make us some dinner.”

After finally taking off his coat (the black fabric now covered in his kitten’s fur) Atem turned on his speakers, started his playlist, and got started on dinner: a beef-based stir fry for him, and a can of Fancy Feast for the spoiled cat who wove between his legs the whole time he tried to prepare the meals. And of course, because she really was just that spoiled, Bastet got a small spoon full of his own dinner before he retired to the living room.

Atem kept his music playing as he ate, preferring to get lost in his thoughts rather than his favorite shows; and again Yugi’s proposal swam into his mind and occupied him.

The whole thought was ridiculous, he knew nothing about Yugi or his band, why was he even thinking about writing songs for them? Songwriting was just a hobby for him, it always had been. The orchestra was his career, and though his father had gotten him singing lessons when he was younger, Atem had never truly entertained the idea of making that voice and his lyrics into anything more than a personal amusement. Well, at least not seriously.

Well, and didn’t it say something that Yugi had been so drawn to Atem’s song? The young man had seemed so excited, so sure when he said that he thought Atem was the perfect match for his band. Atem believed in fate, and that had been the first time he sang publicly since he was a child...what were the chances that someone looking for a songwriter would be listening? Not only that, but be so enthralled with the song that he practically bounded down the row of seats to talk with Atem?

As he finished off the last bites of his meal, Atem picked up the card again, looking over the accounts listed on the back. There was one for Youtube and Atem figured that would be a good place to start if he wanted to see what he thought about this band.

He quickly searched the band on the app via his TV (might as well see them on the big screen) and was not surprised with what he saw at first. Their icon was the same logo from the card and they barely had a few thousand subscribers. A small-time group just trying to leave their musical mark on the world. What did surprise him was that they had almost fifty videos posted- though a quick look through their content said that most of them were “band vlogs”.

Their banner picture was nice, all of the band members in the throws of a song with multicolored lights blooming behind them. The picture displayed all five of the members, the framing purposefully showing all of them so no one was left out or hidden behind another member.

Atem of course recognized Yugi first and was intrigued to find the young man working a set of turntables. An odd addition for a rock band- though now that he thought about it, Yugi never actually said what type of band they were. Soon enough, Atem found his eyes drifting to the other members. There was an energetic looking blond pounding on the drums and a brunette woman who had some soul playing the keyboard. Then there were the two guitarists, and the lead guitar player seemed to also be the singer, mouth poised in front of the standing mic and fingers splayed across the strings in unison.

But looking at still pictures would not get Atem far in getting to know the band, so he moved on to the videos. He found a convenient playlist for their actual songs (he’d move on to the vlogs if he liked what he heard) and clicked on the oldest, their first, video.

The setting was simple enough, the five of them standing in an almost warehouse-looking venue, but the video quality wasn’t bad. The girl on the piano started out first and Atem’s found his interest instantly piqued when the notes sounded epic enough to fit in with an orchestra. The singer stepped up to the mic, guitar missing, and started a fast string of lyrics, hard-hitting and dramatic- a perfect combo with the epic-style piano. The drums and bass joined in quick enough and the moment the chorus hit the synthesized sound of the turntables cut in, an interesting contrast to the other instruments that...actually worked...it really really worked. The lead guitarist’s missing strings were deliberate, Atem noted, since the base standing on its own created a deeper sound that complimented the dramatic flair of the song.

It ended too quickly, being barely more than two minutes long, and Atem instantly found himself pressing replay to give the song another listen. This time, now that he wasn’t trying to pick out the different instruments working together, he paid more attention to the lyrics. It sounded like an ode to bad relationships, the toxic kind that made a couple who claimed to love each other fight and scream daily. The singer’s voice was good, and he was impressed with the long note held at the end of the song.

Atem considered giving the title a third listen, but decided he could always come back to it after he sampled their other songs. He moved on to the next, noting that there were a few cover songs in between the originals- though he skipped them for now. This song seemed to have the most views, and Atem figured it was for the actual “music video” style. It was much more entertaining to watch a story-driven video than the band members simply standing on a set (though he thought that was perfectly fine for the first video).

A fade from black showed a ballerina (the pianist?) on the ground, contorted into a common starting position for ballets. A sorrowful note sounded as the camera zoomed in on the ballerina, then, the moment the piano started, she was dancing. It was then that Atem realized that he knew the piano player, at least in passing, she was one of the dancers from the theatre.

The same voice from the first song started to sing, and the dancer soundlessly captured the lyrics with her graceful movements. The thing that truly made Atem stare in wonder though, was the visuals taking place beyond the dance.

As the song went on, the ballerina’s state...worsened. Her visage mirrored the hurt lyrics of the song. At first her make up ran, as if she had been crying, then holes and tears started to appear in her clothes, then bruises on her skin, until finally, half of her tutu was torn and dirty and dark spots littered her body. The pivot point of the song came, and the ballerina fell to the ground, crying, silently conveying that she didn’t want to go on.

But then the tune started to shift, slowly swelling, lifting up as one by one, hands reached out to the despairing dancer. The first gripped her shoulder in comfort, the next wiped away a stray tear, the third rubbed her back, and the fourth simply held itself out to her, a wordless urge to take the offer of help. The ballerina did, and the moment the hands lifted her up, the scene brightened, and her appearance was restored to its original beauty. The woman still had some sadness in her eyes, but the notes were hopeful as she finished her dance, ending the song on an uplifting tune.

Atem found himself simply staring at the screen as a “Thank you for watching!” text scrolled across it. The simple beauty of the video struck him. The song was about loneliness, broken hearts, the darker side of emotions, almost everything most people would feel in their lives. But, ultimately, it was about loved ones making all those things easier to bear- to accept help from those around you and becoming stronger in the process. A song about a sad truth with a hopeful ending.

Atem liked it, he liked it a lot.

He continued to watch the videos and was let down to find that there were only two more original songs by the band. The third was well done too, though Atem admitted that they didn’t capture his attention as much as the previous. It featured the band in steampunk style garb, standing on a stage as masked patrons in ballgowns danced in front of them (Atem knew he recognized said dancers as more ballerinas from the theatre), this song was more light in its beat, though he thought the lyrics alluded to the concept of liars and the masks they wore.

The final song opened with a heavy drum beat and sound effects from the turntables, the black and white camera blinking onto a shot of the drummer in some abandoned building. Water burst from the drums with every hit for even more dramatic visuals as the keyboard and guitars joined in. Then it cut to the singer leaning against a brick-walled alley, still in black and white and the voice Atem was beginning to know well followed the instruments.

He liked the lyrics already, a poetic contrast to the almost upbeat rhythm. What piqued Atem’s interest most, however, was that it was a love song, the first romantic brand of tenderness he’d heard from the band so far.

Where the light shivers offshore

Through the tides of oceans

We are shining in the rising sun

As we are floating in the blue

I am softly watching you

Though, tender as it may be, he couldn’t say it was a happy love song.

Oh boy, your eyes betray what burns inside you

Atem felt something rake at his heart, a pull, the lyrics drawing him in, chest rising with an ache.

Whatever I feel for you

You only seem to care about you

Is there any chance you could see me, too?

'Cause I love you

Is there anything I could do

Just to get some attention from you?

In the waves, I've lost every trace of you

Where are you?

At one point the camera lingered on the singer’s face, eyes pleading and hands splayed in a gesture as if to pull the viewer closer in a desperate embrace. Atem didn’t even realize he was leaning forward until he was at the edge of the seat. If he were a romantic, he might liken the vocalist to a siren, drawing him in with gravitating lyrics.

Whispers are wasted in the sand

As we were dancing in the blue

I was synchronized with you

But now the sound of love is out of tune

Atem had to actively tell himself to sit back in his seat as the chorus came again, though his eyes never left the screen, even as it flashed between all the members in various forsaken settings. It had been a long time since a song made it feel actual heartbreak, made him hang on each pleading lyric.

Not only that, but even as the song began its ending crescendo, Atem’s mind was compiling some violin chords that would slip into the song perfectly. It had been even longer since he wanted to add his own music to a song.

Atem had to give the song one more listen, this time closing his eyes and getting even more lost in the beats and words. Again he had to tell himself not to go for a third listen and moved on to the band’s cover videos. Though, he was momentarily distracted by Bastet as she hopped onto the couch, demanding cuddles and pets by shoving her tail in his face. He obliged, letting her fall asleep on his lap as he flipped through the band’s cover songs, ready to hear more from them.

Most of them featured the players standing in their venue from the first video, which made sense since recording in that simple location allowed the band to pump out videos faster. He liked the diverse array of covers, some were of pop songs, others of rock and metal, and even one rap song. The band made each cover their own, with that unique array of instruments that made Atem endeared to the band.

His favorite covers had to be the ones of Studio Killers’ “Jenny” and “Through the Fire and Flames” by DragonForce.

The metal song was the only one that had someone other than the lead guitarists singing. Atem understood why, the guitar chords were brutal- and the vocalist was playing them like an expert! Again, Atem was impressed, not just anyone could play the strings like that. Instead Yugi sang, belting his little heart out with some decent talent in singing. Atem may have had the deeper voice, but Yugi pulled off the metal style well. Atem then felt bad for not recognizing the bass player’s skill until the near end of the song, and promised to rewatch the video later to fully appreciate how well the brunette played the bass chords.

Jenny was one of the few covers that got a better video and again, Atem found himself interested and surprised, but for an entirely different reason this time. Although the song was about a lesbian crush, the couple acting out the video were two men: Yugi and the blond drummer. Atem found himself smiling when the video ended with the two men kissing in front of a sunset, Yugi having to pull down the taller boy by the collar of his shirt. The song itself was impressive as well, it was undoubtedly a rock version of the pop song, but it still had that upbeat, almost bubbly quality to the music.

That video was also the first that had the band members speaking to the viewers at the end, all five of them sitting on a couch and smiling brightly at the camera. They explained that the video was made for pride month and that they hope to someday donate all the ad revenue of the video to LGBT charities, once their videos started making money in the first place, that is. Unfortunately, (though not to his surprise) that video had the most amount of dislikes, and Atem found himself leaving a string of heart emojis in the comments just to counteract the negativity- and Atem never used heart emojis.

Before he went on to the other videos, the vlogs, Atem paused the playlist and leaned back on his couch, a string of thoughts taking him over as Bastet purred and stretched out to lay on his chest.

He liked the band.

He liked their style, their diversity and unique form, their creativity, and so far he liked the actual members too. He liked all of it a lot. If he were to ever put his original music out there, he knew it would be with a band like this.

Atem believed in fate, so, had he and Yugi met for a reason?

Atem pressed play on the first band vlog video, making his final decision as he petted the purring cat resting on his chest. So long as these more personal vlogs didn’t tarnish his view of the members, he’d speak to Yugi the next day.

[blackdiamondwrites127]

First Meeting (Sibylle's Perspective)

My girlfriend @ellielovesdrawing and I decided to do a collab fanfic about Sibylle and Kath's first meeting! Mine is in Sibylle's perspective while hers is in Kath's perspective which you can find here. Hope you guys like this!

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

Sibylle exited her office at exactly noon. She had double saved her work on her laptop and crossed out the 8 am - 12 pm slot on her daily schedule chart. She made sure to lock the office door and put up the sign that read:

'Out to lunch'

She started doing this to avoid anymore stolen ledger incidents. The last this she needs is hunting someone down who took her ledger and throwing her entire schedule off. Sibylle exits through the employee door and makes her way to the theatre cafe next door. She ducks as she enters to avoid hitting her head on the door frame.

'One concussion is enough in both of my lives,' she thought. Adjusting her thick glasses.

She goes over and gets in line. Waits until it was her turn at the counter.

"Hey there, Sibylle. What will it be today?" Arthur Tudor, the cafe owner, and fellow reincarnated historical figure greeted.

"Hi, Art. I'll be having my usual iced coffee and club sandwich. Take away thanks," she said.

"Coming right up."

As Arthur made her order, Sibylle looks at the pastries displayed behind the glass display by the counter.

"Hey Art, do you carry any other pastries aside from cookies and cupcakes?" she asked.

"Sometimes I have slices of cheesecake and a box of cinnamon buns that EB loves," Arthur replied.

"Do you make cakes? My Papabär is coming over to visit tomorrow and he loves cakes. I was thinking of buying one for him."

"My sister baked the pastries that I sell. She owns a bakery across the street and I just buy from her."

"I didn't know you have a sister."

"I have three sisters. The youngest one is the one who owns the bakery. Here's your order."

Arthur comes back to the counter with her take away order and Sibylle pays for it.

"Why don't you go check it out. See if you fancy any of her cakes and other pastries. The bakery's called Tudor Rose Bakery," he suggested while counting her payment and giving her her change.

"I think I will after work. Thanks, Art," she said. She took her to take away and exited the cafe before making her way back to the theatre and in her office.

Around five, she saves her work on her laptop, crosses out the 1 pm - 5 pm slot on her daily schedule, and packs up her things in her backpack. She picks up her helmet then shuts the lights before shutting and locking the door. She clocks out and leaves through the employee door. Sibylle goes over to her motorbike parked at the employee parking and hangs her helmet on one of the handlebars before crossing the street.

She walked a few paces until she was standing in front of a small bakery with the sign 'Tudor Rose Bakery' on top. She ducks down a bit as she enters the bakery. The bell above the door rang as she entered. As soon as she was inside, the smell of fresh pastries hit her senses. The bakery was small but the place was beautifully simple with rose themed decorations, mostly murals of roses on the white walls. She smiled a bit when she hears the song 'Popular' playing on a Bluetooth speaker propped onto the counter.

She hums along to the song while looking around the few shelves that carried the packed pastries displayed there and their corresponding prices.

"Welcome to the Tudor Rose Bakery! What can I do you for?" a woman's voice cheerily said behind her.

Sibylle straightened up and turned around to face the owner, greet her back and tell her about her intention in buying a cake but all words, even german words, escaped her when she faced the owner.

The very pretty owner.

The very pretty owner looking up at her with icy blue eyes.

The very pretty owner with freckles decorating her very pretty face.

The very pretty owner that was smiling sweetly at her.

The very pretty own-- okay we get it! You're gay!

"Um...ma'am? Are you okay?"

Sibylle snapped out of her flustered stupor by shaking her head, clearing her throat and adjusting her glasses.

"Uh ja! I was wondering if you have any cakes?" she asked.

She hit herself internally for that ridiculous question. Of course she has cakes! It's a bakery for crying out loud! The owner chuckled and Sibylle got even more flustered upon hearing her laugh.

"Yes I have cakes. My brother, Arthur, told me that you would be coming. Sibylle correct?"

"Yes. Sibylle La Marck."

"I'm Katherine Tudor but just call me 'Kath'. Nice to meet you and you don't happen to be related to Anna, William and Amalia are you?"

Sibylle chuckled. "I am actually. I'm their older sister," she said.

"I can see the resemblance! Anna and William loves to come here every other day and orders everything that's either chocolate coated or chocolate flavoured."

"All four of us loves chocolate everything to be honest."

Kath smiled at her again which almost made her heart skip a beat. "No wonder! Now, would you like to order a custom made cake?" she asked.

"Um no. I would like one that's already made. My father loves cakes and he's coming over to visit tomorrow," she replied.

"Of course! This way please."

She follows Kath to the display counter where several cakes and pastries were on display.

"I have madeira, heavy fruit cakes, light fruitcakes. Heavy sponges. Light sponges. And red velvet," the baker listed off while pointing to the cakes in the glass counter.

Sibylle looks at the wide variety of cakes on display. Contemplating which one to get for Papabär. She herself prefers chocolate but her Papabär loves red velvet.

"Found anything you like?" Kath asked.

"Hmmm...I think I'll take one chocolate cake and one red velvet," Sibylle said.

"Sure! Which one? There are a few to choose from."

"Anything is fine as long as it's chocolate and red velvet."

"Coming right up!"

She goes to the back to get two boxes for the two cakes that Sibylle picked. While she waited for her cakes, she noticed the song playing on the Bluetooth speaker had changed and was now playing 'Defying Gravity' and Kath was quietly singing along to it while she ties neat red ribbons around the boxes.

Should she test the waters?

See if this beautiful baker is a fellow Wicked fan?

Might as well do it then.

"I can't help but notice your playlist consisting of songs from Wicked," Sibylle said. She internally patted herself on the back with that start.

The baker seemed to blush shyly and she decided at that moment that she loved the way she blushes. This thought makes blush a bit in turn.

"Oh! Yeah, I'm a major fan of wicked, I prefer the books to the musical though but the music in the musical is bopping!" Kath said. A big, excited grin on the baker's face.

This made Sibylle have an excited grin of her own.

"Same actually! I love the songs from the musical but the books are my preferred canon! The musical all but removed the political commentary and that's what I loved in the books."

"I know! The political commentary in the books make it much more interesting and in depth! Not to mention the lack of Glinda and Elphaba romance in the musical which was very abundant in the first book."

"I know right!"

She noticed her blue eyes had lit up while geeking out with another Wicked fan. She herself is quite happy to discover that this beautiful woman shares the same interest as her.

"You know, you do kind of remind me of Elphaba," Kath said.

"Oh? How so? Do I have green skin or a water allergy?" Sibylle asked.

"More like tall, lanky, glasses and the long braid."

She blushed a bit and absentmindedly played with the tip of her braid.

"The braid is actually the intentional nod to Elphaba in my appearance. The rest is just...me," she said.

Kath smiled at her and yet again, her heart skipped a beat. She rings up her order and gave her the price to which she paid with a bit of extra.

"Keep the change," She said as Kath started to count her change.

"Are you sure?" the baker asked.

"Ja. It's a tip for having the lovely conversation with me." She smiled at her.

Kath smiles back. "Thank you, Ibby."

"Ibby?"

"Oh sorry! I just thought 'Ibby' would suit you as a nickname."

Sibylle smiled at this. "Funny enough, my Papabär gave me the nickname 'Ibby' when he first met me," she said.

"Oh! Well do you mind if I call you that? Because I kind of want to see you more and get to know you," Kath said.

At this point they were both blushing now. Sibylle more so than Kath.

"I-I would like that," she said.

The baker seemed to lit up more at this. She rushed out back before running back out again and handing her a business card with a number written on the back.

"Here's my number! Let's talk more when you have the time!" she said.

Sibylle smiled and graciously took the card. Putting it in her left pocket where her wedding ring was in.

"I'll text you when I get home then. That way you can save my number," she said.

"I'm looking forward to it!"

"Thank you for the cakes, Kath."

"No problem, Ibby."

With that, Sibylle took her cakes and left the bakery. A small smile remained on her face as she drove home to her flat.

Perhaps she can modify her daily schedule to fit in the new 'Go to the bakery' slot with as much break time as she can fit in there as possible.

Yeah. She would definitely do that.

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

Featured/Mentioned Sixtended OCs:

@ellielovesdrawing 's Katherine Tudor

@djts-arts 's Arthur Tudor

@spooner7308 's EB

@pandora-dusk 's Mali von Kleve

@lexartsstuff 's William Jülich-Berg-Cleves

[tagsecretsanta]

From @willow-salix

to @fallenfurther

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!

Grandma Tracy might portray herself as a hip, cool, down with the kids granny to anyone that would listen but even she had to admit that she was a traditionalist at heart. Not in the way that many might expect, not in the boring way of not moving with the times when needed, she could work the holoprojector almost as well as John when it came to coordinating a rescue, she just subscribed to the ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’ school of thought.

She knew that old fashioned things still had a place in the world, they still had a use, even when people thought they were antiquated and fit for nothing but a museum or a rubbish pile. She’d proven that to Virgil when they had been stuck in London with no technology whatsoever and since then Virgil had had more of an appreciation for the older things in life.

Traditions were important in her eyes, although rarely were they the common ones that everyone in the world did. Mostly because Sally Tracy did not follow the pack, she never had. She refused to do what everyone else did, to her traditions began at home. They should invoke memories of a time long ago and remind you of the things that were important. Family traditions, now they were the way to go.

She could vividly remember her mother singing along to the radio as they decorated the Christmas tree. They would drink hot chocolate and have a lovely time as they decorated, dressing up in the tinsel and talking, catching up on the things they might not have had time to talk about before. Always on the 1st of December, always with Christmas songs playing and always as a family. And Sally had made sure that she'd done exactly the same with her boys.

Now it was Christmas Eve, the gifts had been purchased and wrapped, the tree had been decorated and the family had just about escaped with their sanity after a month of non stop christmas songs on the stereo courtesy of Grandma. Jeff had been the only one brave enough to suggest that maybe they listen to something else but he had quickly backed down when she had speared him with a glare that could have stripped the paint off Thunderbird Two’s hull if she had been close enough to it.

It’s tradition, she said, one of the only ones she could count on since moving to Tracy Island. Beautiful as the island was, it was far too tropical to feel in any way christmassy and the only way she could get in the mood (or so she claimed) was by listening to festive music.

She missed feeling the days grow colder as summer lost its grip on the world and the crisp, chilly days of fall took over. Once fall was firmly there and you couldn’t leave the house without a sweater it was only a matter of time before the smell of burning leaves and woodsmoke filled the air and winter came nipping at its heels. The cold of winter, the first flurries of snow, brought with it the sound of carols, bells and the smell of baking gingerbread. She loved being wrapped up in warm clothes and feeling the icy blast of wind that stole her breath and she missed it when temperatures on the island rarely changed at all.

Rescues often made regular meals and time off difficult, they often interrupted family time and special occasions. The Tracys were used to it, but it did make getting into any kind of routine difficult and often meant that such things as birthdays and christmas felt unimportant. But not to Grandma, to her it was of vital importance and no one had better argue with her. Jeff, wise man that he was, had given up and retreated to his office, his almost soundproof door and peace.

Gordon was in London spending the day with Penelope for her birthday before they returned to the island that evening for Christmas. John was in Five as usual, finishing up preparations for a few well deserved days off (although he would probably be regretting his decision by dinner time Christmas Day), Kayo was visiting Kyrano for Christmas Eve and would return in the morning and Brains was wishing he had never walked into the lounge.

“Snow is falling, all around me, children playing, having fun,” Grandma sang, joining in with the video playing out on the holoprojector as she attempted to crochet a scarf figuring it was as traditional a pass time as any to indulge in, maybe it would be ready by next Christmas if she was lucky. “Come on, Brains, you know the words, join in.”

“B-but it’s not accurate for our climate,” he argued, never having been one to enjoy a sing-along like some members of the family. “There is never snow on T-T-Tracy Island.”

“That’s not the point, Brains,” she sighed, trying to untangle the yarn that insisted on knotting on her lap rather than in the carefully ordered way it should.

“It’s not?”

“No!” She tossed the scarf, all four wonky rows of it, onto the table, giving up for now before she was tempted to lob it up Thunderbird Two's tail pipe.

“I d-don’t understand,” Brains admitted, something that was very hard for him to do. He was used to being one of the smartest people in the room, if not the smartest, and now, here he was, not understanding a simple thing like this. Maybe he’d been working too hard?

“It’s not about the song, it’s about the meaning behind it,” Grandma explained patiently for what felt like the millionth time that December. “It’s traditional.”

“A song is traditional?”

“Well, yes, but not just the song, it’s the image it portrays. Christmas in my day meant snow, cold weather clothes, wrapping up warm, skating on a frozen lake, then coming inside to drink hot chocolate around a crackling fire and listening to carols on the radio with my mother as we waited for my father to get home. We knew that once he was home the holidays could really start. He worked hard and had very little time off in a year, only every other sunday, two days for Easter and Christmas Day.”

“Kinda like us then,” Alan muttered from his spot on the couch where he had been relaxing before breakfast, playing a handheld game.

“Yes, and because we have none of the weather here or the time off, not that I would want to be anywhere else, but the only thing that really makes it feel like Christmas is the songs. So we’re going to keep the music and you’re all going to like it.”

A new song came on and Grandma sighed happily as Alan groaned as if in pain.

“I love this song, it was one of my favourites,” she stared dreamily at the screen. “Oh, it’s Christmas time, mistletoe and wine. Children singing Christian rhyme. Isn’t he handsome? I wouldn’t kick him out for eating cookies.”

“Grandma!” Alan gasped, shocked to the core, his tone showing his disgust.

“What? Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I can’t look and do a little window shopping. I’ve got all his albums, including his live concerts, it’s just not Christmas without seeing him on the TV. Here, I’ll show you. Just listen to him some more and I’m sure you’ll learn to love him.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, it’s Christmas.”

“That’s your answer to everything,” Alan grumbled but he put down his game and prepared to do his duty as a grandson.

“I’ll start you off easy with Little Town,” Grandma told him, pressing play.

                                                              ***

“This comes to pass, when a child is born. When a child is born… oh, oh, o-” Grandma sang along to the fifth song of her playlist when, to Alan’s intense relief, John’s hologram popped up, replacing the music video that had been playing.

“International Rescue, we have a situation,” he started, then paused looking around the room, frowning when he saw only Grandma, Brains and Alan in attendance.

“A situation? Yes! I’ll get Scott and Virg,” Alan cheered, jumping up.

"That's not the reaction I usually get," John observed, wondering what could have brought about that sort of excitement so early in the morning from the brother who liked his sleep the most.

“Never mind that. What have you got?” Grandma asked, all business now, her Christmas spirit in song form now forgotten.

“Guests trapped in an ice hotel in Sweden.”

“Scott! Virgil! It’s safe to come up, the music’s off and John needs us to go to Sweden,” Alan yelled as he clattered down the stairs to the kitchen where the older two were no doubt hiding.

“A what now?” Grandma asked, ignoring Alan.

“An ice hotel,” John repeated. “The hotel was first built in 1990 in the small village of Jukkasjarvi, Sweden, now they rebuild it every year and add to it with a different architect for each room. I’m sure it looks very beautiful when you can actually see it and a freak snow storm hasn't covered the entrance then frozen.”  He pulled up a feed to show what must have been the hotel but all that was visible was two large piles of snow.

“What are we looking at, John?” Scott demanded to know, jogging up the stairs with Virgil hot on his heels, Alan bringing up the rear.

John brought up a picture of the ice hotel in its normal glory.

“This is the Winter Heart Hotel in Sweden,” he began. The picture showed a beautiful backdrop of a frosty night with the northern lights visible dancing in the sky behind two pure white domes of snow which were obviously the hotel. They looked like elaborate igloos, connected by covered tunnels and slopes that had formed on the sides with big, wooden looking doors on the front of the domes. The snow sparkled in the moonlight and even though it was clearly freezing cold the whole place looked very welcoming. Little cabins were scattered here and there around the hotel itself, giving the whole scene a picture postcard feel.

“Looks great,” Virgil commented.

“That was it three months ago,” John answered before flicking aside the picture to replace it with the previous image. “This is it as of four hours ago.”

“Woah,” Scott breathed, his eyes tracking over the large mounds of snow that covered the domes so effectively they looked to be nothing but snowy hills. “What happened?”

“Freak snow storm blew in from the arctic circle and dumped around seven feet of snow on the hotel overnight. By the time morning came the fresh snow had frozen solid, trapping a number of high profile guests inside.”

“High profile?”

“The Winter Wonder charity concert happens there every year, people from all over the world pay big money to stay there and not just for the music,” John answered. "It's reported to be an amazing experience but not for the faint hearted. They keep the inside at a constant -5 degrees centigrade, although they do have warm rooms of the hotel such as bathrooms and some bedrooms. They should be fine in there for now, but we obviously need to get them out. The hotel itself has been trying to dig their way through for the past hour. They had a snow plow of their own but it broke a week or so ago and as no snow was forecast they hadn't rushed to replace it.”

“Any casualties?” Virgil asked, already walking across the lounge to his launch chute.

“None reported, apparently they have placated the guests with numerous free drinks and dinner, but unfortunately they are now reported to be getting a little rowdy.”

“Rowdy? Well it won’t do to keep them waiting much longer, will it?  I guess we had better hit the skies,” Scott grinned, crossing over to stand in front of the wall where his launch chute was hidden, reaching up to grasp the light fittings that triggered the revolving door. “See you out there!”

“Alan, you're with me,” Virgil called, much to Alan’s delight. He dropped down in one of the bucket seats that would take him or a passenger to Thunderbird Three so he could suit up, grinning like a mad man, happy to be off the island for a few hours.

“I’ll send the coordinates and brief you when you’re airborne,” John told them as they all vanished, his hologram blinking out a moment later.

“Well,” Grandma sighed, turning back to the holoprojector. “Now that they have gone I guess it’s just you and me, Brains.” With a quick flick of her wrist she had turned the music video on, the sound drowning out Brains’ pitiful groan.

                                                    ***

“Bulldozer Pod is go!”

“Alan, be careful with it!” John warned, his voice echoing around the pod cabin, as the bulldozer shot forward at a much faster speed than was sensible. His hologram popped back into existence to give their littlest brother one of his patented death stares when Alan dared to roll his eyes at him.

“I think I know what I’m doing, it’s just a little snow.”

“No, it’s not just a little snow, if you go too deep or too far you’ll risk taking out one of the walls of the hotel itself. It’ll register as snow, exactly as the rest of it does. Here,” John paused to send through the holographic map overlay he had just finished creating. The overlay settled on top of the map already in front of Alan from the pods scans, then sank down over the snowy mounds, now showing the outline of the buildings.

“Avoid the ice walls, I got it,” Alan assured him.

“Just make sure you pay full attention,” John ordered.

“I’ll be fine, go bug Scott, he’s the one you can’t trust.”

“Unfortunately there isn't just one, I can’t trust any of you,” John sighed and, against his better judgement, left Alan to his own devices.

Alan trundled forward a little slower than before, heeding the warning. He might be excitable but he wasn’t stupid and now that he had a better idea of what he was looking at and supposed to do he could see that he would have to be a little more careful.

As John had said, scans from their equipment were registering nothing but ice and snow, there was no clear definition between what was fresh snow and what had been there before and was part of the building. He could detect life signs deep inside the snow piles, as expected, but they seemed calm enough, their heart rates slow and easy, showing them to be totally relaxed.

He moved the pod closer to the huge wall of snow and maneuvered it into place, his plan being to work in a square, side to side, front to back, moving in closer and closer until the majority of the snow had been removed, allowing Virgil and Scott access to come in with a modified Sherpa Pod. The idea being to use the heat bank element to create what amounted to a high powered hair dryer to defrost the ice that had the guests trapped.

With his first run he plowed a wide path in front of the hotel a good twelve meters away. He checked the map overlay, calculating that he could manage two more full sweeps, working back and forth before he’d be risking getting too close and would have to hand over to his brothers.

Scott and Virgil were configuring the modifications to the Sherpa Pod when John called in to give them an update.

“Alan has removed the snow down to quarter of a meter from the doors, now it’s down to you guys.”

“FAB Thunderbird Five,” Scott answered, swinging up into the passenger seat of the pod. He’d finally grown out of his desire to drive every single vehicle he got into and had learnt that Virgil was, in general, a much more capable pod pilot than he was, although he’d never admit that out loud.

Virgil gave him that look that said he knew exactly what he was doing but, being the more peace loving Tracy, he declined to comment. Instead he climbed effortlessly into the driver's seat and settled in. He carefully guided the vehicle down the module ramp and out onto the snow, ignoring Scott’s impatient huff in response to his sedate pace.

“Slow and steady,” he quoted, knowing that snow was tricky terrain to navigate at the best of times and this wasn’t the time or the place in which to push their luck.

“The danger here is with the hotel itself,” John told them as Virgil made his way across the snow.

“How so?” Scott asked. “I thought the reports said that the hotel was stable.”

“It’s made of the very thing we’re going to be melting,” Virgil answered, checking his instrument readouts as he navigated up and over the snow into the ditch that Alan had excavated.

“Oh, yeah, good point,” Scott conceded. “So what’s the plan?”

“The snow fall isn’t the real problem here, the hotel can take the weight of it easily having been subjected to weight tests to ensure it could retain its structural integrity for these exact reasons,"John answered. "In this case all we need to do is concentrate on freeing the doors, the rest, as long as they take precautions, should be fine to leave in situ.”

“Got it, just the doors,” Scott confirmed.

“You’re going to have to go steady,” John warned. “There’s not a lot of clearance there, Alan has done his best but it’s going to be a delicate operation.”

“Steady is my middle name,” Virgil assured him. “I’ve got it under control. You just concentrate on keeping the hotel employees in the loop.”

“FAB,” John answered, blinking out as quickly as he had come.

Heat bank raised, Virgil worked the controls expertly, taking his time to melt away the snow that was left, being careful to keep it moving and only work on the front of the hotel where the doors should be, following the same map overlay that John had provided for Alan.

Alan, they saw, had done a thorough job, moving the snow far out of the way and was now using the loader and the pod’s caterpillar tracks to tramp down and spread out the snow he’d plowed, eliminating the possibility of the new snow piles posing a danger to anyone.

After only a few minutes of careful work the doors to the main entrance of the hotel began to appear through the snow as it melted away, sliding down the wood. Virgil checked the map one more time, realising that there was little more he could do without risking the ice of the hotel itself.

“I’m gonna have to get my exo-suit and do the rest by hand,” he decided, sounding like he was talking to himself, almost like he had forgotten that Scott was even there. Scott declined to comment, busy watching Alan work, pleased to see that, although the youngest Tracy sometimes had the same kind of offbeat humour as Gordon, he was as competent and sure as ever in his work.

Virgil turned the pod back to the module, not wanting to walk the entire way and, leaving Scott to reconfigure the pod to something a little more manageable for travelling across snow, he got himself into the mechanical suit.

Twenty minutes later a stream of grateful employees and guests came pouring out of the freed doors, all talking at once, jabbering away in excitement at seeing the mighty Thunderbird vehicles up close.

“Please, please come inside,” one waiter gushed, grabbing Scott by the arm and hauling him into the hotel. Virgil glanced at Alan who shrugged, it wasn’t like they couldn't be spared for a little longer. "My name is Felix, please, anything I can do, just tell me."

"It's OK, Felix," Scott started. "We don't need you to do anything…" he trailed off as they stepped inside, their attention instantly taken by their first look at the hotel.

“Woah,” they all breathed in unison, their eyes feasting on the beauty in front of them. They were surrounded on all sides by sparkling, crystal like slabs of ice that formed a lobby area that immediately opened up into an ice bar, a warmly wrapped up waiter behind the bar ready to take their orders. Several guests sat on fur covered ice chairs, sipping from thick glasses that looked to be crystal but were obviously made of ice too.

“This is just...wow,” Virgil’s eyes darted here and there, trying to take in everything at once. He slipped his arms out of the exo-suit and allowed the mechanical limbs to fold down alongside the suit against his back. Reaching out a hand he stroked the delicately carved face of an ice maiden, one of the many sculptures that were dotted here and there. “Can I have a look around?”

“Of course,” the waiter, Felix, who had invited them in nodded eagerly, clearly happy to be of service. “Come, I give you a tour.”

Virgil knew that he must have looked a sight, stomping down the icy walkway with his suit on so, with Scott’s help, he shed it and left his brothers to guard it while he followed the man who had already darted ahead.

Now that he was free of the cumbersome machinery he was able to navigate the icy corridors and smaller walkways with ease. He descended a staircase, again completely made of ice, something he found hard to get his head around as it all looked like crystal, and stepped into a high ceilinged room that sported the most magnificent chandelier he had ever seen.

The ice shards hung down in elegant lines that culminated in three perfectly formed circles. The artist in him was in awe of the work that had gone into creating something that was not only visually stunning but practical at the same time.

Walking through the rooms he saw more exquisite sculptures, fur draped beds in bedrooms that each had a different theme such as under the sea with giant ice jellyfish hanging from the ceiling, clowns, dancers, and solar systems. On the way to the beautiful chapel with its ice shard altar and fur covered pews, he saw a magnificent unicorn that dominated a large part of a hallway. Here and there he saw leaves, animals, birds, faces and flowers, all carved from the ice and snow that made up the hotel. It was, simply put, stunning.

He returned to find Scott and Alan, who had taken up residence in one of the warm rooms with cups of hot chocolate, surrounded by guests. Many of them seemed a little worse for wear after their extended stays in the bar areas where the drinks had been flowing freely in an effort to keep them unaware as to the predicament they had been in.

It seemed that the guests were also fans, their voices carrying that slightly raised, mildly slurred tone that drunk people got, as they peppered the boys with questions.

“We really can’t reveal any of our secrets,” Scott told them, sounding as if he were repeating himself for maybe the twentieth time.

“You eat?” someone popped up behind them and offered a delicious looking burger on a plate.

“Oh, don’t mind if I do,” Scott grinned, reaching to take it. “Thank you.”

Alan and Virgil happily accepted their own plates, diving in to take large bites, eager for some food that hadn’t been cremated by Grandma. Decent food was hit or miss on the island, but everything dished up was met with a general sense of trepidation until the first bite determined its edibility.

“Damn, this is good,” Alan mumbled, his mouth full.

“I’ll say it is,” Virgil agreed, his cheeks resembling hamster pouches as he answered with his mouth full.

"I am glad you like,” Felix smiled, looking rather proud of himself. “They are our speciality, made from our own reindeer.”

Alan choked, his eyes growing wide as he stopped chewing and stared at the burger. Reaching for a napkin he, as politely as possible, spat out the food in his mouth.

Virgil looked a little horrified while Scott just shrugged and kept right on eating. Scott counted himself as a foodie, he would try anything once, or even twice if he was undecided the first time. He had eaten in top restaurants around the world, in little cafes, from carts on the side of the road, anywhere and everywhere that there was food, there was Scott, willing and ready to try it.

“What?” he asked when Alan stared at him in disgust. “It’s a burger, plus it’s good.”

Virgil was obviously fighting some internal war between his stomach and his brain. On the one hand he was hungry and Scott was right, the burger was damn good, but on the other his brain was insisting on conjuring up visions of Santa and his sleigh. In the end his stomach won and he took another bite.

“Virgil!” Alan gasped, making Virgil wince guiltily.

“There’s nothing wrong with the burger, Al. They were good enough to feed us, it would be rude not to.”

Alan, clearly torn between his desire to not be seen as impolite and his desire to not eat Rudolph, was spared from making a decision by a sudden burst of music coming from deeper in the hotel. All three Tracy brothers groaned in unison.

“Is there a problem?” Felix asked, concern etched on his face. Had he given them a bad burger? Food poisoning? Insulted their ancestors? “Anything I can do to thank you, please do say.”

“No,” Virgil assured him. “We just recognised the music, that’s all.”

“Ah,” Felix smiled, clearly relieved. “That is the band beginning a last minute rehearsal and sound check before the concert.”

“Concert?”

Felix pointed to a holographic poster on the wall.

Alan’s eyes widened in recognition and he leant over to whisper to Scott. Scott listened, his eyes widening too as he realised what his little brother meant.

Clearing his throat he made his request. “Maybe there is something you can do for us, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course! Anything!” Felix gushed, pleased that the high profile Tracy brothers weren’t mad at him.

“Can you get us their autographs?”

Felix grinned, looking even more proud of himself than he had before.

“I can do better than that.”

                                 ***

Grandma hadn’t known what to think when Virgil had called home and told her that Scott was on his way back to collect her, telling her only to wear as many warm clothes as she could, but she had done as she was told.

Digging deep into the back of her wardrobe where she kept the clothes that had languished there for more years than she cared to remember, she had dragged out a thick winter coat and a warm top to wear under her customary onesie, along with wooly socks, gloves, scarf and hat.

She was waiting impatiently in the launch bay before Scott had even made it home and was soon comfortably installed in a passenger seat as her eldest grandson whisked her away into the unknown.

Virgil and Alan were there to greet them as they landed, a pair of ice skates in hand and identically proud grins on their faces.

They had spent a pleasant hour or so sliding around on the custom built ice rink. The ice, as with the hotel, had been imported from the nearby Torne River. Grandma was pleased to find that, although slightly rusty at first, she was able to take to the ice with a reasonable degree of competency, much better than that of her grandsons.

Scott was all long limbs and over enthusiasm, trying to go fast straight off the bat and failing spectacularly until he slowed down and figured out how to walk before he ran. Virgil was a little better, adopting the tactic of trying to place his feet carefully, as he would while walking, getting his footing before doing a slow first lap around the outer edge of the rink, gaining confidence the longer he was on there.

Alan it seemed, much to their surprise, had inherited her grace on the ice and took to it easily, executing an almost perfect first lap before streaking off across the ice like a bullet.

Skating gave way to an impromptu snowball fight started by Scott aiming at Alan and finished by Grandma who pelted the troublemakers with snow while Virgil held them in place.

“How about we head inside and grab a warm drink before heading home?” Virgil suggested, shaking the snow off his shoulders, thankful that their uniforms protected them from such a wide range of weather conditions.

“That would be wonderful,” Grandma sighed happily as they walked towards the hotel.

“I want to thank you boys for such a lovely surprise. Much as I love our home it’s been nice to feel snow again and experience an old fashioned Christmas eve again after so long of endless summer.”

“You deserve it,” Scott assured her, draping an arm around her shoulders.

“Yeah, it was our pleasure,” Alan agreed, holding the still freely swinging door open for her.

Grandma experienced much the same wonder as they had as she enjoyed a tour of the hotel at the hands of the ever accommodating Felix, who had been more than happy to be her guide, showing her all the hotel had to offer.

It was beautiful, a true once in a lifetime winter wonderland of crystalline ice and exquisite sculpture that reminded her of the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, her favourite book as a child, when the White Witch had frozen all of Narnia in an endless winter.

Felix was happy to let her wander at her own pace, never trying to hurry her as she explored, her eyes taking in all there was to see. But, eventually, she grew tired and needed to rest, not being as young as her mind would have her believe. She was more than happy to be delivered back to her waiting grandsons with the promise of a hot chocolate in one of the warm rooms.

The function room was beautiful in its simplicity, decorated in a cozy cabin style with insulated fireplaces here and there which gave off no heat but looked perfect in the wood panelled room. There were comfy couches and wooden tables with rings of chairs dotted here and there, all arranged in a semi circle that faced towards the raised platform that was acting as a stage if the instruments there were any indication.

The room was still empty apart from five men sitting around a table, enjoying a quiet drink before the show started. They looked up expectantly when the door opened and the three Tracy boys led their special guest into the room.

Grandma had never been one to be lost for words before but there was a first time for everything and this appeared to be that time. She froze in the doorway, requiring a gentle nudge from Virgil to get her moving again. Her eyes were firmly fixed on one man as he put down his drink and moved towards them, a bright smile of welcome on his face.

“Hi there,” he started, holding out his hand, “I’m Cli-”

“Cliff Richard Jr!” Grandma shrieked, coming out of her starstruck daze to grab his hand between both of hers, yanking it closer, reeling him in for a smothering hug.

“Woah, easy there, Grandma!” Scott laughed as the singer’s arms flailed in shock. “Let the man breathe.”

Alan gently untangled Grandma’s arms from around Cliff, allowing him to back up and regain his freedom.

“So,” Cliff wheezed, straightening his tie and clearing his throat, regaining his composure before he bestowed upon her another dazzling smile. “Am I right in assuming you’ll be staying for the show?”

“You bet your ass I am.”

“Grandma!” all three boys yelped in shock but, thankfully, Cliff just laughed.

The music might not be to their tastes, in fact for Alan it was akin to torture, but seeing the look of joy on their Grandmother's face made it all worth it.

And wasn't that the true spirit of the season? Taking the time to think about others before you thought of yourself, spreading joy and happiness whenever you could.

Grandma was the heart of International Rescue, the heart of the house and the loving center of their family. She had always gone out of her way to look after them, now it was their turn to give something back to her. Something that she would never, ever forget.

[eijiroukiriot]

hello! here it is! my shittyman stinkboy playllist! i have way, way more krbk-adjacent playlists than just 3, but since i’ve written abt my krbk playlist and my kirishima playlist i figured i should complete the trilogy! i wish i had smth real to post for bkg’s birthday but exposing what i imagine his shitty taste in music to be like is something, at least. happy birthday trashman 

Spotify Link

song descriptions under the cut!

this is so much longer than my kirishima playlist solely because half the songs in here are just randomly-selected emo hits. for convenience’s sake and to justify not explaining most of them, i’ve split them up into categories! 

Category One: Emo Kid Repertoire (read: songs that are on here for no particular reason, other than that i strongly believe bkg has bad taste in music) 

i. Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down - FOB ii. Punk Rock 101 - Bowling For Soup iii. Teenagers - MCR iv. My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark - FOB v. The Phoenix - FOB vi. You’re Gonna Go Far Kid - The Offspring  vii. Somebody Told Me - The Killers viii. I’m Not Okay (I Promise) - MCR ix. Addicted - Simple Plan x. Hope Less Romantics - Make Out Monday xi. Next Ex Girlfriend - Bowling For Soup xii. Don’t Let It Be Love - Bowling For Soup xiii. I Don’t Wanna Rock - Bowling For Soup (can you tell that my BFS phase was my emo phase)  xiv. A Walk Through Hell - Say Anything xv. Gives You Hell - The All-American Rejects xvi. Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na) - MCR xvii. Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Green Day (i wasn’t gonna put this on here and then i thought of the shots of bkg sulking around in the dark in the most recent op and started laughing) 

Category Two: Edgy JRock Songs I Put On My Workout Playlist

xviii. Lost Time Memory - Jin xix. Children Record - Jin xxi. Goya no Machiawase - Hello Sleepwalkers xxi. Kyouran Hey Kids - The Oral Cigarettes 

Category Three: Explosion Puns

xxii. Pow Pow - Elris xxiii. Bboom Bboom - Momoland 

Category Four: Songs From My Krbk Playlist That Remind Me Mostly of Bkg

xxiv. Bad Enough For You - All Time Low (please read the desc on the krbk playlist post because i feel like this one doesn’t make sense otherwise)  xxv. My Best Friend’s Hot - The Dollyrots (ok this one explains itself)  xxvi. Idfc (acoustic ver) - Blackbear  xxvii. Crush - Weki Meki xxviii. Animal - Neon Trees

Category Five: Kiribaku-ish Songs That Aren’t On My Krbk Playlist Because They’re Almost Entirely About Bkg

xxix. Su-suki Nanka Janai! - bandori lol 

“Even so, your face is too close, and you’re pressuring me with those eyes!!

It’s not like that! It’s not like that, so - listen, I’m not that—— soft!!!” 

-okay listen the dialect used in the chorus is REALLY tough-mean-teenage-boy (i’d expect the words it uses to be said like “that’s not it, stop it!!” but really it sounds like “you’re fucking wrong, shut your mouth!!!”) so i thought of bkg and laughed bc this song really doesn’t fit him at all 

xxx. Kissaphobic - Make Out Monday 

“It's cute when you do it, but Cupid is stupid -

He shot the wrong lovers” 

-this song is...really good! very dramatic, very full of deep-seated anxieties that the person who loves you must just be mistaken because you’re not ready to be loved like that. very reminiscent of the boy imo 

xxxi. I Drew You Once In Art Class - Antarctigo Vespucci 

“When will I ever get it right? Maybe I’ll never treat you right

I’m gonna leave when you say you wanna leave, and shut up when you say you need to sleep” 

-i love this song so much the actual music is so goofy and lighthearted while the singer is taking himself SO seriously. it’s like a perfect musical representation of spiraling thinking “oh god i fucked up this is the end of our relationship for sure” and then realizing. “oh wait i’m fine. i’m gonna do better” and then having one (1) less than ideal interaction and spiraling all over again. there’s something really funny abt it to me i always imagine bkg giving kirishima a cd and kirishima being like “i don’t really like this band though?” and then bkg flopping face down on his bed like “it’s fucking over. i did it. it’s over now” 

xxxii. Everytime We Touch - Cascada

-it’s everytime we touch 

xxxiii. Bad Mood - The Vaccines 

“Oh, you look disappointed in me

Oh, am I not as thoughtful as you thought I’d be?” 

-i highlight that line in particular because that’s what MAKES it for me. that’s what makes me picture a krbk breakup scenario every time where bkg wakes up the day afterwards still fuming and thinking abt it nonstop, and everyone’s like “hey man are you okay?” and bkg’s like “are you fucking surprised that i was never as good as you thought i was? fuck off i’m not some perfect boyfriend” feeling very edgy 

-in reality no one’s thinking that but he’d sure convince himself they are 

xxxiv. Give Myself To You - Vista Kicks

“I know you can do better than me

But I cannot do better than you”

-all of these are so angsty but i see this as like, a quiet self hatred anthem...aw i don’t want to describe it any more because i’m making myself sad on my own boy’s birthday but yeah i think of him w this one 

xxxv. No Lover - Jetty Bones 

“Romance seems like a means to an end

Maybe I don't need a lover, I just need the friend who carried my weight when my back was sore” 

-i don’t...remember why i put this on here...huh...i guess it’s just a punky song abt being mad about being in love 

xxxvi. Everyone But You - The Front Bottoms

-i’ve gotten this song suggested as a krbk song so many times and while i don’t actually like it much i do agree that i see the bkg energy so it’s here (i actually listen to my krbk playlist sometimes unlike this one lol) 

xxxvii. Teenager In Love - Neon Trees 

“There was a point when we were cool, 

And it never went bad 'til you were holding his hand” 

-i just heard this for the first time pretty recently, but i really love the balance of the “oh god being young and in love is the worst” and “oh to be young and angsty and be convinced being in love is the worst”. softly laughing from the future about how resistant you were to something that’s turned out so well for you

Category Six: kpop songs about thinking you’re better than the people around you or as i like to call it Bkg Trying Desperately To Hype Himself Up 

xxxviii. Don’t Matter - Produce 101 

xxxix. You Think - SNSD

Category Seven: Other

xl. RBB - Red Velvet

“OH MY GOD (he’s a really bad boy) he’s a really bad boy he’s a REALLY BAD BOY” 

[spaceorphan18]

1-15 for the writers meme for ‘With Every Broken Bone.’ (I’m in a rereading mood for fanfic and I’m thinking about rereading this). Also you know I love this one!!

Aww thank you dear <3 Now I won’t shut up about process and the ins and outs of writing, lol... 

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

When season 6 came along, admittedly, I had a really hard time reconciling going from a happy ending in season 5 to broken in season 6.  And writing about it kind of was an interesting cross-section of therapy and analysis.   While I was figuring out the timeline of events -- I noticed that there were some interesting parallels/juxtapositions going on, and because I thought I may not be writing more Klaine fic after this one (ha) I might as well take my own spin on a few famous portions of Klaine’s story.  

2: What scene did you first put down?

I tend to write chronologically, so the opening flashback scene was probably first.  I can’t fully remember.  I did have a whole outline, though, before writing. 

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

Hmmm, I’m not entirely sure, since a lot of the specific narration I don’t remember as much anymore.  I do love the entire month of June chapter, though, which is mostly narration.  I love that it’s Kurt finally getting what he thought he wanted -- to be alone -- and finding himself through that, but also that even he can experience loneliness when having too much distance from everyone else.  

Also early in the story when Kurt goes dancing with a guy and he starts to connect to him -- feeling Blaine through him -- only to realize the dude isn’t Blaine and basically has a panic attack.  That moment was always really clear in my head, and I liked writing that one.  

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

Oh, ha, it’s, like, my favorite line of dialogue ever, cause it’s a delightful metaphor for Klaine’s story at the time (And I’m sure people aren’t really that impressed with what I find clever, and are sick of me quoting myself, but I’m still amused by it) 

“You know what it’s like?  It’s like I stubbed my toe.  And my toe hurt. A lot.  And I tried to ignore the pain in my toe, but after a while it got so bad that something had to be done.  So, instead of taking care of my toe, I chopped off my foot.  Do you know how much worse chopping off your foot feels? Of course it took me four months to figure out how much it fucking hurts.  And now I don’t have a foot.  Just a bloody stump.  I shouldn’t have cut it off.  I could have fixed the toe.”

In addition, I also really enjoy some of the convos with Mercedes -- the one where she’s discussing her break up with Sam, and how, in a way, the two break ups are similar.  I also love the July flashback with Mercedes -- because it foreshadows a lot of the story, and I thought it was rather clever.  

5: What part was hardest to write?

The July chapter! Oh god, I think I had most of the rest of the fic done and kept having to put that on pause.  I wanted Kurt to have another romantic interest during the summer - and get a sense of what casual relationships are like, and discover what he’s like in relationships that aren’t with Blaine.  And to have to do that, set it up, pay it off, go through the whole thing and have it be meaningful was really hard.  It took a long time to figure it out.  

Not as difficult, but still I found challenge with, the flash back to the first break up.  Trying to figure out how Kurt felt differently, and exploring how it was a different thing in a short amount of time was difficult. 

The September flashback was difficult, too, because I needed Blaine to be frustrated without being too needy, or too much a bad guy.  I know betas and talking it out helped a lot on that one. 

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

This was my first big fic for Glee, and the first one where I felt like I was a decent writer.  It also helped me figure out Kurt and the show in a way that I hadn’t before, and I love the character more from writing it.  

7: Where did the title come from?

The lyrics of ‘I Lived’ -- I thought it was a nice touch that it was the last song on the show, and it fit with story I was trying to tell.  

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

Yes! A lot of my experiences of New York I wrote into it here and there.  

Also the story about thunder being god bowling.  I had a cousin who used to tell me that so it didn’t seem so scary. 

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Not really? The only big thing I cut out was an extension of the stuff with June Dalloway in chp 3 (?) -- my betas talked me into cutting that way down, and they were right to do so.  

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

I mean, well, they’re who I write. The pairing picked the story. 

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I really love the story it explores with Kurt in it.  I’m proud of how Kurt grows in it, and how I feel it does bridge the two seasons nicely.  I really love how it gets deep into Kurt’s psyche -- drawing on canon as much as I could to paint a full picture of who he is.  I think he’s a fleshed out and flawed character, and he feels real to me in this one.  

I also really love that I was restrained in my use of Blaine -- he’s a ghost that haunts this story, and I was fascinated with the idea.  I think it really comes through.  Blaine is always there, even when he’s not, even when Kurt’s trying hard to move on.  You miss Blaine in the story, but that’s intentional -- because Kurt deeply misses Blaine.  

12: What do you like least about this fic?

There are still some parts that feel a little clunky to me.  Certain sections that maybe go on too long, or not long enough.  I can tell it’s an earlier fic of mine -- I could have worked on better and more concise sentence structure in a lot of places.  I could have fleshed a few ideas out.  And the October chapter, which is all of season 6, goes on a little too long -- and it feels slightly out of place, but I knew it did even when writing it -- I’m not sure how I’d re do it, but it feels slightly different than the rest of the fic.  

I give myself a lot of leeway because it was my first time writing one, but the sex scene was a bit on the simple side.  It felt more like an obligation - and I was super scared to write it, and basically my betas had to help me construct it cause I had no idea what I was doing and felt funny writing it.  

I also think the Nov. flashback is a little too cheesy, but I was trying to get in all the last minute canon references, so I left it in there.  

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

Yeah, I had a whole playlist for this one!! 

Chapter 1 (March): Teenage Dream - Darren Criss

Chapter 2 (April): Shake it Out (Acoustic) - Florence and the Machine

Chapter 3 (May): Rockstar - A Great Big World

Chapter 4 (June): I Shall Believe - Sheryl Crow

Chapter 5 (July): Daydream Believer - Mary Beth Maziarz

Chapter 6 (August): Dream City - Free Energy

Chapter 7 (September): Head Over Feet (Acoustic) - Alanis Morissette

Chapter 8 (October): Halo - Beyonce

Chapter 9 (November): I Live - Fate Under Fire

Each of the chapters kind of had a musical aesthetic going on with it! Also intentional were the use of Kurt solos as chapter titles -- those paired along with each chapter purposely.  

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

I have no idea - that’s up to them to get anything out of it.  

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

I did! I learned a lot about writing (which having a few fantastic betas really be strict with my writing helped a lot).  I got myself out of some bad habits, and tried to be more introspective than I had been with previous writings.  And I just felt like I stepped up when it came to writing.  I think this is far from a perfect piece of writing, but I’m proud of how it turned out. 

I also learned a lot about Kurt, he became a part of me writing this, and now his story is much more special to me than it had been before.  And I learned a lot about Glee -- how it is as a show, and how it works, cause I looked at the structure of canon, and how it was written.  

[ramona-ratguider]

Different types of witches

To start off this post I am going to clarify that as a witch you don’t need to label yourself in order to be a witch. Witches are as diverse as they come and I simply enjoy posts like this because it is fun, I enjoy the aesthetics and sometimes when setting up altars or holding a ritual it is satisfying to stick to a particular theme with your attire and decor.

Here is everything I could find on the different types of “witch aesthetics”

Traditional witch

Witches following the Old Path or the traditions of old witchcraft. This is one of my favourites, I get the feeling of long layered cloaks, melted down candles in a barely lit cottage, herbs hang up from the ceiling to dry. Witches following this path tend to take a look at a lot of historically know witches and their stories, their rumoured practices and follow in their footsteps.

Sea witch

Witches whose practice is linked strongly to the ocean. They usually use aquatic creatures, plants, beach sand and salt water religiously in their practice. Using Neptune and Poseidon to lead their workings. Doing spells associated with a lot of folklore surrounding the ocean (mermaids, sirens and otherworldly sea beasts).

Kitchen witch

My grandmother was the closest thing to a kitchen witch I have ever seen to a kitchen witch. Hovered over a crock-pot, humming beautiful melodies and stirring with the utmost focus. These witches can work a healing spell into homemade bread and a hex into a bowl of soup. Lovely cooks as well, good luck trying to figure out what is in that wonderful smelling pasta. This path is also similar to Hearth witchcraft.

Hedge witch

This is the one path I know very little about, but am dying to figure out. These witches work in what is know as the “Otherworld” and in order to reach it you must jump over the “hedge”. Working with spirits and creatures from the Otherworld.

Elemental witch

Witches on these path base their practice on the four elements : earth, air, fire and water. They will use the elements in every spell working, ritual and craft they do.

Ceremonial witch

These witches will not do simple spells or magic without the full workings of a ceremony. This is a very sophisticated path and witches on this path tend to be very anal about the set up of any ritual or spell work. Great detail is put into the moon phase, time of ritual and they ensure the working is carried out in a specific, step-by-step manner.

Green witch

Witches with strong ties to plants. I myself have never had much of a green thumb, as much as I try to keep my house full of beautiful plants I can never seem to keep them alive. My housemate has more skill with this. Trust these witches to be caught whispering to their succulents, using their plants to heal loved ones and being happiest when lying on the grass surrounded by daisies.

Hereditary witch

These witches come from a line of witches, raised in a household where witchcraft is practiced or are simply born with gifts and abilities that run in the family (in my case it skips a generation and one woman of every second generation inherits the ability). You don’t need to be born into it in order to practice the craft, but it sure helps.

Cosmic witch

These witches focus their practice on the cosmos. The stars, planets and in some cases even extraterrestrial beings. Spells performed by these witches usually follow the alignment of the stars, the planets and the moon and sun. So much knowledge can be generated from the universe and these types of witches are almost otherworldly. Focuses on astronomy and astrology are common.

Secular witch

These witches still practice the craft as any other witch would, but remove the aspect of deity or a higher power from their practice. Their work is in most cases not very spiritual, but rather practical.

Solitary witch

Not much to this type of witch, other than they don’t work in covens or do any work with other witches. They prefer to work alone.

Eclectic witch

A witch not limited to a particular practice or belief system, but rather incorporates them all or a select few into their practice. I myself like to mix and match in my workings so I could consider myself eclectic in broader terms.

African witch

This is a bit of an umbrella term as their are so many types of magic done within the traditional African community. The one crucial note to take is that in order to maintain the balance one does have to be of African descent in order to label oneself and African witch.

Ancestral witch

A witch who solely works with ancestors and no other spirits or otherworldy beings. These witches either work with their own ancestors or other historical ancestors that they feel strong connections to.

Animal witch

These witches tend to work mostly with animals, whether it be live animals, skins, bones or other remains, They normally have a really strong bond with living animals and in some cases animal spirits. This is the type of witch who gifts shiny things to the local crows and builds an army of loyal crow subjects.

Art witch

These witches are spewing with talent and creativity. Whether working spells into their beautiful oil paintings, clay figurines or embroidery. They will work healing magic into handmade jewellery and bindings into beautiful portraits.

Augury witch

Witches who interpret omens and symbols. They don’t exactly foresee the future, but more so to guide certain paths or receive messages from the other realms or higher powers.

Celtic witch

Witches who base their practice on Celtic magic, mythology and Celtic deities. These witches work with beings like fairies, gnomes and other beings from Celtic folklore. Normally quite into earth magic as well.

Chaos witch

A witch who’s practice is exactly that, chaotic. No common structure is used and this path is all about using whatever seems appropriate in the moment, even if it is contradictory to previous practice. Most unorganized of all the witches.

Crystal witch

A witch who uses crystals and gems strongly in their practice. This witch knows the properties of every crystal and stone and has quite a vast collection.

Divination witch

A witch who’s practice focuses solely on divination. Usually works with tarot cards, scrying and/or any other methods on divination. Use it to foretell the future, receive messages from other realms and the list goes on.

Earth witch

Similar to the ‘Green witch’ but broader. These witches use plants, stones, animals and other earthly elements in their practice. The hippies of the witch community. Almost always barefoot and getting lost in a forest somewhere. Most likely an environmentalist.

Flower witch

A witch who’s practice surrounds flowers more specifically than plants. Colourful gardens, always smells beautiful and will most likely make you a flower crown in spellwork. They know the properties of most local flowers and cast circles using daisies.

Hearth witch

A hearth witch’s practice revolves around their home, it’s very similar to kitchen witchcraft. They incorporate their spellwork into domestic activities within their household (like cleaning and cooking). When in a hearth witch’s house, you can almost immediately feel it.

Lunar witch

These witches use the moon and all her associate deities within their practice. The phase of the moon, moon water, moonstone, everything moon will make this witch. Guaranteed night owl, they draw all their magic from the moon itself.

Music witch

A music witch will use songs instead of spells in their craft. Incantations are songs they wrote themselves, songs they grew up with and even (similar to pop culture witches) mainstream media. They have a playlist for every ritual, celebration and find a way to incorporate music into all their workings. A music witch’s voice or instrument is their power.

Tech witch

Tech witches use modern technology within ritual and practice. Uses coding for spellwork and relies heavily on their devices. Utilizes mobile applications built for witches. Personally, tech witchcraft never worked for me because I found it to break and interrupt my energy lines, let me know if you are a tech witch how you overcome this.

Alexandrian witch

This is actually a path of Wicca, founded by Alex Sanders. It is very similar to Gardnerian Wicca and is highly ceremonial. This practice focuses on the relationship between the Wiccan God and Goddess.

Shaman

Not exactly witches, but based on the practice I felt it fitting. In Shamanism, contact is made with the spirit-world to heal the sick, commune with the spirits and ancestors, and in some cultures even escort the dead to the afterlife. This is normally a very indigenous practice and in my opinion the knowledge of true Shamanism can only be passed down from another Shaman.

Gardnerian witch

Another path of Wicca, named after Gerald Gardner. This is the earliest known created tradition of Wicca. In order to be considered Gardnerian one does need to be initiated into a Gardnerian coven, covens within these traditions are known for their secrecy. They celebrate the Wiccan God and Goddess and follow the Wiccan Rede.

Water witch

Similar to the sea witch, but some of these witches find themselves inland, far from the ocean and thus draw their power from streams, lakes and rivers. Thus adapting their path to follow the deities of these smaller bodies of water, and even work with animals and plants that are associated with these.

Air witch

These witches work with tools associated with the element air. Incense, feathers, the wind. Some witches base the elements they work with solely on their birth element (mine being Air as I am an Aquarius, but I have never practiced solely with air myself.) others just feel more drawn to a single element.

Fire witch

Witches taking the path of fire are considered the rebels of the Elemental Witches. Same as the others, they work with all the tools associated with Fire.

Pop culture witch

These are witches who use the elements of fiction and other pop culture in their practice. Following sample spells from movies like The Craft or creating their own spell from a scene from a movie not even remotely about witchcraft. This is not just limited to movies, but also pop songs; taking the lyrics and using them in spells or replacing the lyrics with spells. This is another one I am not too fond of myself, but I do like to see how other witches incorporate pop culture into their magic.

Forest witch

These witches spend all their time practicing the craft within the forest. Gathering their tools within her, holding rituals within her. These witches are incredibly drawn to the forest and draw their energy from within the forest.

Swamp witch

Same as the forest witch, but swamp.

Desert witch

Same as the swamp witch, but desert

Weather witch

My personal favourite, the weather witch uses weather to draw her energies or in some cases is able to actually manipulate the weather. These witches use things like storm water and other such tools in their craft.

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

These are just the few I could think of. If you know of any more please message me and I will update it. :)

[torchwoodfanfests]

Step-by-step guide on how to participate on the Bingo Fest: a manual for the uninitiated

As there may be people who have never participated in a fandom event like this before, we thought we’d provide you all with a step-by-step guide you can refer to throughout the fest in case you have difficulty figuring any of it out. 

This post will walk you through how to sign up and participate on our current fest, but if you have any further doubts don’t hesitate to ask us :)

Step 1: sign up

The first thing you need to do to participate is to go to this google form to sign up. All that we require is a way to contact you (like an email or your tumblr url) so we can send you your bingo card. Once you’ve done that, you’ll receive your card shortly and can start creating!

Step 2: the bingo card

Here is an example of what the bingo cards will look like:

As you can see, the cards will be 5x5 with a total of 25 prompts. After you read all the prompts, consider which you’d like to use as inspiration. Some people start with whichever prompt inspires them, some try to find which line of prompts they like the best (remember you get bingo by completing a straight line of 5 prompts, horizontally, vertically or diagonally). Some even attempt to complete the entire bingo card!

Once you decide which prompt(s) you’ll use, get started on your writing and/or art! You can combine different prompts for one piece or make one fanwork for each. For example, you can use the prompts ‘family’ and ‘prequel’ in one work. Remember that for this fest we set a minimum word count of 500 words per prompt for written fanworks, so if you choose to combine prompts into one fic, the minimum word count adds up (if you choose to combine ‘prequel’ and ‘family’, that’s 2 prompts, so that fic should have at least 1000 words; if you choose to combine ‘prequel’, ‘family’ and ‘torchwood one’ into one fic, the word count should be at least 1500 words, and so on). There is no maximum word count.

Artists can combine as many prompts into one piece as they want, but the total number of individual art pieces we require for bingo is three fanworks (can be a mix of different types of art). Participants can also combine writing and art as their submissions to get bingo.

Edit to add: for fanvideos and video edits you need a minimum of 30 seconds per square to fill the prompt. Prompts can be combined, and there is no maximum length. For playlists and tracklists, you need at least 3 tracks per prompt, plus a few lines of text to tell the story you’re putting together. This explanation can be written however you want, it can read like a summary of the story, like not!fic, like a short drabble, or you can just say why you picked the songs (e.g. “I picked this song because this lyric fits how this character was feeling when X happened”, or “this song illustrates this character’s opinion about Y”). As usual, prompts can be combined, and there is no maximum length.

I’ll use the sample bingo card to give you some examples of what completing a line might look like.

Note: for the prompt squares that have more than one option separated by slashes (like “plants/vegetables”) you need to use only one of them, the slash stands for “or” in this case.

Example 1: vertical line bingo (writing)

Fic #1: bed sharing, 650 words

Fic #2: rarepair + meet the family, 1000 words

Fic #3: torchwood one, 1400 words

Fic #4: the hub goes on lockdown, 520 words

In this case, each fic reaches the minimum word count of 500 words per prompt, as you can see. This could also look like one fic of at least 2500 words which hits all the prompts. More on posting after a few more examples.

Example 2: diagonal line bingo (art)

Art piece #1: bed sharing, moodboard

Art piece #2: crossover+undercover, digital painting

Art piece #3: family, edit

Art piece #4: plants/vegetables, digital painting

This example has one piece that combines two prompts, and three pieces for single prompts. With a total of four pieces, this counts as bingo (minimum for art submissions is a total of three if all your fanworks are art).

Example 3: horizontal line (writing+art)

Fic #1: torchwood one+prequel, 1200 words

Fic #2: family, 2000 words

Art #1: dancing, traditional drawing

Art #2: andy davidson, craft

This example combines different types of fanworks and clears all the requirements (at least 500 word count per prompt and more than three pieces total).

Sidenote: if you’re having trouble thinking of what to do with a prompt, a good way to come up with ideas is to crowdsource the brainstorming process! Post about it on your blog asking for suggestions, ask a friend, discuss it in groupchats with other fans, or send us an ask for some suggestions. Remember, you don’t have to go with the most obvious interpretation of a prompt, trope subversion and creative interpretations are welcome here! You got ‘mpreg’ but don’t want to get into an mpreg story? Write about Jack mentioning how there’s a humanoid alien race where everyone can get pregnant! Or have him make a comment about a male friend of his from the 51st century who carried a child for a friend of his. Or have any male character have a dream about being pregnant, whether that’s possible for them or not (and this is Torchwood, so nothing is quite impossible). Take the prompt and twist it into something you like!

Step 3: posting your works!

Once you start completing some fanworks, you can post them at any point for the duration of the fest (August 18th to September 30th). While you do not have to post them as you make them and could wait until the last day, we do not recommend that as we foresee there will be more people finishing some works at the last minute and so it’ll be easier for your fanworks to get attention if you post them early.

The posting process is simple: you need to post your work on your own tumblr first. This post needs to have; 1) the fanwork or a link to the fanwork, and 2) any relevant content warnings (check our list of mandatory content warnings here). That’s it! Please note that anything that requires a content warning (including sexually explicit content) should be under a cut.

For fic, we recommend that you share some information in order to give potential readers an idea of what it’s about (title, summary, rating, prompt, and you can add an author’s note if you want), and if you post to ao3, you should add it to our collection! You can do this when you first post it (or go back to edit later) under ‘Associations> Post to Collections / Challenges’, where you simply have to type torchwoodbingo2020 and select our collection. Art can also be posted to ao3 and added to the collection!

Step 4: submitting your work for us to reblog

After you post your fanwork to your tumblr, you need to copy the link of the post and submit it to this google form so we can reblog it to this blog. We will not reblog posts that don’t have the appropriate content warnings so please be sure to warn as needed.

Step 5: creating your masterpost (optional)

Once you’re done with the fest, whether you’ve managed to get bingo or not (or if you’re very ambitious, if you’ve cleared the entire card), we would recommend that you make a masterpost of the works you’ve made for this fest. This is not required, but it’s very satisfying and it’s a good way to look back on what you’ve accomplished and to promote your fanworks again :)

Like the examples above, the typical masterpost would have your bingo card (with the prompts you’ve used marked in some way) and a list of your fanworks with links to each of them and which prompt they fill.

You can submit this masterpost to the same google form as above and we will reblog it as well :)

And that’s it!

If you have any further questions, you can send them here and we will try to answer them as soon as possible.

We hope this post helps clear some doubts about how the fest works and that we get as many people involved as possible  ^_^

[en-temerant-voistra]

Auri has a special place in my heart.

I made a playlist for her with songs, that remind me of her.

If you want to know more about the reasons why I chose those specific songs and pieces of music, you can read the explanations under the cut.

Enjoy.

In the following parts I will talk about the pieces I chose and the reasons why I think they fit. Sources are most often provided. Obviously this part contains spoilers about the character Auri from the king killer chronicles by Patrick Rothfuss and I will quote from the 2014 edition of the slow regard of silent things (tsrost) as well as from the tenth anniversary edition of 2017 of the name of the wind (tnotw).

Precious joy:

The piece of music “precious joy” was heavily inspired by a piece of bach called “Jesus bleibet meine Freude” (translation from the german: Jesus remain my joy). It was played by the band “the modern jazz quartet” and can be put into the genre of jazz.

In this piece elements of jazz and bachs style of playing mix in an unique way.

This fits Auris character in many ways.

Bachs style, built on a rigorous system of rules (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johann_Sebastian_Bach#Four-part_harmony, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johann_Sebastian_Bach#Structure,_lyrics) clashes and mixes with the style of modern jazz, which in many ways represent a detachment from the current rules of music.

This is similar to Auri, who is detached from society at large and still acts according to rigorous rules.

The melody also fits to Auri. It is written in G-major and while pieces of music written in major often only sound happy, this piece does not. The melody sounds not just happy, but also has parts where it sounds melancholic and sad/somber. The mix results in a often bittersweet sounding melody.

The feelings that are conveyed fit quite well to Auri, who seems happy at many points, but has also her sad and melancholic moments (page 77 of tsrost, “On the third day, Auri wept.”).

Concerto RV 156 in G minor: I Allegro:

I picked this piece mainly because of the sweetness of the melody.

It is written in G minor and while “precious joy” had notes of sadness even though it was mainly happy, this piece has notes of happiness even though it is mainly melancholic.

It symbolizes the aspects of Auris character that are often hidden from Kvothe, who sees her mainly as happy (page 370 of tnotw, Auri was scrupulously clean and full of joy.).

Prophecies:

The piece of music “prophecies” was written by Phillip Glass. It is an example for minimalistic music. The music was written for the Movie “koyaanisqatsi”.

The movie Koyaanisqatsi, whose title means life out of balance in the Uto-aztecan language Hopi, is an experimental film, that shows footage of nature next to footage of human made technology and structures. The directeur of the movie stated, that the interpretation of the movie should and can only be done by the viewer itself (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koyaanisqatsi#Meaning).

Leo Hickman from the guardian stated how many people interpret the movie. His statement is that the movie is “a transformative meditation on the current imbalance between humans and the wider world that supports them”.

This fits nearly perfectly to Auri, who is obsessed with finding balance and who sees other humans as a big factor, which destroys balance (page 47 of tsrost “they would be coming, all hard boots and arrogance and not one bit of proper knowledge of this place”, page 51 of tsrost “it led to the same thing. Upset. Folk finding keys. Folk opening doors. Strangers in her underthing, shining their unseemly lights about. Their smoke. The braying of their voices. Tromping everywhere with hard, uncaring boots. Looking at everything without a single thought of what a look entails. Poking things and messing them about without the slightest sense of what was proper.”)

This interpretation holds true even if we ignore the background of the movie and only listen to the one piece of music, because Koyaanisqatsi which again means life out of balance is sang in the second part of the song.

The minimalistic style that is used also has elements, that fit Auri, who lives a simple life full of repetition, which fits to the style of minimalistic music.

I chose this piece and not another from this movie, because the first part of the piece has a bright melody, which fits Auri more than just the darker parts of the music.

Particles, Island songs VI:

This song represents the melancholy of Auri. While “precious joy” and “concerto in G minor” had elements of sadness, this song represents that aspect fully.

The melody is very melancholic in a soft way, which fits to Auri.

In this song the lyrics have also an important role, that makes the song fit very well to Auri s character.

As example the lines “And i try to keep the balance right. And I try but it feels like wasted time” represent both Auris struggle with the chaotic world around her and with her own chaotic emotions.

All the rowboats:

I chose “all the rowboats” mainly because the lyrics fit very well to Auri.

In this song the artifacts in a museum are depicted as having a will on their own.

The whole song sings from the injustice of the imprisonment of the “masterpieces” in this museum, which the singer once calls a public mausoleum, which is filled with the living dead.

In the refrain the singer sings how she feels pity for the violins, who forgot how to sing.

This general sentiment fits very well to Auri, who also thinks of artifacts as having a will on their own. It is not absurd to think, that Auri would also think, that the display of things only for the sake of being seen by humans, was deeply wrong.

The melody of this song is not only sad, but also angry. Anger and Auri is not often connected, but there are some instances, when the text depicts her as angry (page 51 of tsrost “Auri realized her fists were knots of knuckle white.”, page 84 of tsrost “then her mouth grew furious. Her eyes went hard. […] Hot from bakery, and all asweat with rage and the unrightness of it all, Auri turned and stormed away…”, page 92 of tsrost “…and stuffed the blanket angrily into the wine rack.”). It is only fair to have a piece of music, that symbolizes that side of Auri in this playlist.

Variationen zur Gesundung von Arinuschka (translated from german: variations for the healing of Arinuschka):

This piece of music was made by the estonian composer Arvo Pärt, who invented the Tintinabuli style, which is a minimalistic approach of and to music.

His music, even though it sounds simple and is often not difficult to play, is the result of rigorous rules through which the piece of music gets constructed.

“I have discovered that it is enough when a single note is beautifully played. This one note, or a silent beat, or a moment of silence, comforts me.”

This is a direct quote from Arvo Pärt and it shows, that his relationship with music is different than the one other artists have.

His music lives through silence and careful slow playing of perfect notes.

A lot of the pieces, that Arvo Pärt wrote, remind me of Auri. I chose this specific piece, because it not only has bright and not only dark parts, but parts, where the two mix.

Its bright parts also include parts, where the music sounds light and amused and childlike.

All of those parts are important to Auris Character.

Auri is seen as light and childlike by Kvothe, but gets heavily influenced by feelings of sadness and anxiety.

The style of the music is also very important. Like the Tintinabuli style Auri also acts according to rigorous rules.

Like the Tintinabuli style her life is simple and has a lot of routine and repeating parts.

Like the music of the Tintinabuli style, she also lives and acts on her environment through silence and careful slow perfect actions.

Year of the dragon:

Year of the dragon is from the album “enjoy your rabbit” by Sufjan Stevens and was released in 2001. It fits the genres glitch, electronica and IDM.

Year of the dragon is different from the other pieces of music on this playlist. It is fast, seems chaotic, loud and is shockingly electric.

I was unsure at first, if i should put it on this playlist, but i think it fits Auri.

For many the piece is a lot in the first hear through. It seems very chaotic and at some times it does not even sound like music.

At a second or third hear through, some of the chaos of the tones start to vanish. monuments of sound bloom out of the chaos.

For me this piece of music does not sound like chaos anymore.

Every moment is wanted. Every tone masterfully placed.

A thick tapestry of sound is made and the more you listen the more patterns can be seen.

I think Auris life is similar. To the outside observer her actions seem weird and chaotic. But they are not.

I also think, that Auri sees the world in that way. Everything seems chaotic at first, but there are ways the world should be. Patterns that should be followed.

I also chose this song because of the power of some of the melodic patterns.

The main example for this is the part in the middle, where the background base starts to descend in heavy pulses.

This is also symbolic for Auri.

Many see Auri only as the sweet childlike figure that Kvothe also oftentimes only sees.

This is not the big picture.

For people that have read the slow regard of silent things it is obvious, that she is more than just a childlike figure.

She probably endured terrible things and something changed her drastically, but she is still more than just a child.

She knows secrets that few know. Not just about the underthing, which she discovered. Not just about alchemy which she studied under master Mandrag. No. She knows about the world and how the world works in a way, that we only really know about Elodin and maybe Magwyn.

She is Auri and under her will all things bend to please her.