#if it had to be shipped from Maine or wherever

[tangentmusings]

While in conversation with my father in law tonight, I tried to look up whether there are lobsters in the Pacific Ocean (delightfully, there are!). But the first suggested search when typing "are lobsters…" was "are lobsters immortal?" (tragically, they are not)

[dyaz-stories]

say my name and everything just stops || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: You welcome Gojo back after a mission that lasted longer than expected.

(He fucks you on your desk)

word count: 2.6k

genre: canon compliant, smut

cw: porn with some plot, porn with feelings, vaginal sex, fingering, gojo is a tease, light angst, some fluff too, reader is afab, implied fwb, gojo calls reader sensei but they're both teachers

a/n: just a little thing for fun and practice :) enjoy!

more gojo x reader here

Though the sun is setting outside, you’re still at your desk, dutifully filing paperwork. You’ve dismissed the students a long time ago, of course, but you haven’t left the classroom yet. The door sliding open, though you haven’t heard any footsteps, has you glancing up, on high alert. The worry dissipates right away when you’re met with familiar white hair, a broad grin, and all-black clothing.

“Well, well, sensei,” Gojo Satoru says as he approaches your desk with a nonchalant pace, hands in his pockets, “working late, are we?”

“Gojo,” you reply, eyes back on the paper sheet in front of you. “How was your trip?”

“You know you can just ask Ijichi to do that for you, right?” Gojo continues, now standing in front of your desk. “No need for you to do all that by yourself.”

“Ijichi is busy,” you answer, unperturbed by the way he ignored your question. “You’ve been gone a whole week. Did something go wrong?”

“Aw, sensei,” he coos, “were you worried?”

You put down your pen to look up at him. You’re always worried, obviously. While you’re a teacher at Jujutsu High, the main role you’re expected to fulfill is that of strategist, to better coordinate group actions. You wouldn’t be able to do that without being at least a little paranoid.

It just so happens that you are very paranoid.

Faced with your stare, Gojo’s grin widens.

“Well, I guess they were happy to have me around and they had me fix all the little problems they hadn’t been able to get rid of by themselves,” he tells you with a shrug. “If I didn’t do it, no one was going to, so, might as well get everything taken care of in one go.”

It’s hard not to openly grit your teeth at his words. You’re not thrilled about the way Gojo just gets used and shipped off to wherever the elders deem fit. You and Shoko, on the other hand, are expected to remain caged in the more ‘safe’ properties, all in the name of the greater good. You’re not sure what good it’s doing. You still know better than to say it out loud.

“You stopped by Shoko’s before coming here,” you say. It’s not a question, and his face lights up at it.

“One day, you’re really going to have to tell me how you do that.”

It’s not that hard. A light smell of smoke lingers around him; the last button of his shirt is unbuttoned, likely because of an examination; there’s a pen sticking out of his pocket that you suspect he’s stolen off her desk; and he’s not wearing his usual travel shoes, meaning he changed since coming back to Tokyo, and knowing him, you must have been close to the top of his list of people to see, so you don’t think he went home, so Ichiji must have brought them to him at the lab.

You could easily have been wrong, of course. You just made an educated guess, and it worked out well for you.

“I found something weird out there,” he states matter-of-factly. “Didn’t need any patching up. C’mon, don’t tell me you were worried?”

You roll your eyes and push your chair back to stand up. He should have been back three days ago, and you didn’t hear from him. Not that the way your relationship works means you should have. It explicitly doesn’t.

“We don’t know what kind of curses are out there,” you say. “Anything could happen.”

“Aw,” Gojo says. “But you know I’m the strongest. I can take everything they throw at me.”

He says it with such absolute confidence that you want to believe him blindly, but all your instincts rebel at that idea. You can’t let yourself think he’s invincible. You can’t make your plans based on that idea. There’d be too much to lose if— if—

“With how gloomy you look, it’s hard to think you’re happy to see me,” Gojo pouts. “And here I was, thinking I’d get a warm welcome back…”

You scoff, fighting the smile that wants to break on your face, then make to move past him. You have no intention of actually leaving of course, but you know that—

Of course, the second he thinks you’re getting away from him, he grabs your wrist and twirls you around and into him. His arm wraps around your waist smoothly, presses your chest against his.

“Really? You’re not even a little bit happy?” He says it lightly, but you don’t miss the very light twinge of annoyance in his voice.

You like to think that you are one of the few people that can get a rise out of him.

It goes both way, of course, but now that you’re in his arms, after a week without touching him, anger and fear melt away all too easily, and all you want is him.

You put both of your arms around his neck, and push yourself on your tiptoes to capture his lips. There is a second during which he remains still, as if unsure, no matter how unlike him that would be. It’s like you don’t have him back yet, like there’s a part of him, of his mind, that is still out there with the curses.

But the moment passes, and then he’s kissing you feverishly. He pushes you back until you hit your desk, then helps lift you on top of it. The papers you’ve filled so dutifully fall to the floor, but he doesn’t care and neither do you. His warm tongue meets yours and you feel small moans escaping you, which he swallows hungrily. One of his hands sneaks under your shirt, the other pushes up your long skirt as he lifts up one of your legs, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.

You burry your hand in his hair, try to pull him closer to you, because fuck, you’ve missed him, you’ve missed the weight of his body on yours, and you want him, you need him to be as close as possible. He groans inside your mouth, and when your other hand moves down to trace his jaw, his neck, the muscles of his shoulders, before trying to unbutton his shirt, it turns into a full whimper.

Unfortunately, that sound also brings you back to reality, and while your body is an inferno right now, you feel your cheeks heating up even more.

“Wait, wait, Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he almost growls. Now that you’re trying to speak, he presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, sucking and biting lightly at the skin.

“Satoru,” you whine, left with no strength nor desire to fight him on that, “we shouldn’t— students could—”

“They’ve gone home,” he dismisses your worries easily. “None of them are going to show up here at this time.”

He’s hooking his fingers in your panties now, trying to slide them down your legs, but you catch his arm first. You’re quite the spectacle, breathless and panting, clothes half off. Even then, there’s that serious light in your eyes that just has him weak in the knees.

“Yaga— Yaga could—”

“If you think about it, that’d be doing him a favor,” Satoru hums. “Would give him some really, really good material, if you ask me.”

He doesn’t add that the material in question is all his, and that he’d never let Yaga catch you in the act, just for that reason. He doesn’t have to, because his answer makes you laugh softly.

You always laugh for him.

“He better not find us,” you warn him, as your grasp on his arm relaxes.

“Hm, that shouldn’t be a problem, as long as a certain someone can keep quiet…”

You roll your eyes, and then you pull him back down against your lips to interrupt his laugh.

He manages to get your panties out of the way, and then pushes a long finger inside you. You’re already so wet for him, he marvels as it slides in easily. He soon follows it with a second one, spreading you open carefully, and that’s when you throw your head back, closing your eyes and pushing your hand against your mouth to muffle your moan.

“So you’ve really missed me, huh?” he can’t help but tease as he chases your mouth. He’d love nothing more than to hear you loud and clear, but he knows you won’t risk it, no matter how empty the school is right now.

Underneath him, your body trembles, and he can’t resist any longer. He pulls his blindfold out of the way, drinking in the most beautiful sight he’s ever beholden. You’re trying your best not to let the pleasure get to you, but even then, you manage to open an eye to look at him, and you’re met with the stunning blue eyes you wish you could see more often. Something softens inside you, and you reach up to touch his cheek.

“Of course I’ve missed you,” you answer.

Shit. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this up. He’s already rock hard and all he’s done is rock against you. He wanted to take his time with you tonight, because all he’s had the past week is the memory of you, and that’s nowhere near enough, but it’s not looking like he will last that long.

“Yeah?” he insists as his thumb finds your clit and he starts rubbing carefully. “Thought about me while I was gone?”

You let out a loud cry, manage to cover your mouth again before another one comes out. Your thighs are trembling around him, and fuck, he’s going to have to fuck you real soon, otherwise he’s just going to burst in his pants without you even touching him, at this point.

“I’ve thought of you,” he tells you as he pulls his fingers out of you to get rid of his pants. “Thought of how good you feel around me, of how good you sound for me, of how pretty you are when you’re bouncing on my cock…”

He guides his cock against your entrance, presses it against you. You buck your hips, unable to stop yourself, but he doesn’t give it to you, not just yet.

“You really want it that bad, don’t you?” he practically purrs.

“Satoru,” you whine, and oh, if you knew what it does to him when you say his name like that… “don’t make me b— Ah!”

Finally satisfied, he sheathes himself fully inside of you, and fuck, it’s all he’s been dreaming of for days now. Next time he swears he’ll come running back to you the second he’s done with the stupid assignment. You reach up for him and he lets you, lets you dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you bury your face in his neck to stifle your moans. His hips set up a lazy pace at first, and you try your best to follow, try to meet him with small movements of your own, before you feel his breath against your ear.

“It’s all good,” he says warmly. “Just let me take care of you, babe. I’ve got you.”

That’s when he picks up the pace, and you’re left to writhe underneath him, whimpering his name desperately against his skin like a prayer, Satoru, Satoru, Satoru!

You come, shaking, around him when he brings his fingers to your clit once more, and he doesn’t lose a second of it. The high-pitched moan that you just can’t hold in, the way your head falls back, how your thighs shake on either side of him, it’s all so perfect. You’re perfect.

He does his best to let you ride your orgasm on his cock, but he comes inside you just a couple seconds later, unable to last longer. He collapses on top of you, and your labored breathing fills the room. Your hand on his back moves gently, tracing circles on the nape of his neck, gently running through his hair.

“If you’re not down for a round two just yet, I recommend you stop that,” he mumbles against you, only to regret it immediately, because you do stop.

“We should— we should take this elsewhere,” you say quietly.

Ah, now that’s more like it.

“I can call Ichiji and we could do that in the back of the car on the way home,” he offers cheerfully as he gets up, putting the blindfold back in place, though not before he can see you grimace in horror at his suggestion.

“Absolutely not,” you say firmly, though once more, he was only teasing. He’d never let Ichiji see you like that. “Although, if you could call someone to come clean up in here, just, uh, just in case…”

Cute.

“Done. Now, about that round two…”

“Else. Where,” you insist, and you don’t fall for his cute pout.

He sighs but takes your hand to help you to your feet, then turns around as he pulls out his phone. He’s about to hit Ichiji’s number when your fingers on his skin almost bring a shiver out of him.

“Shouldn’t this be healing?” you ask, frowning, and he realizes you’re talking about the marks you’ve left on his back.

“Nah, I quite like them, actually,” he grins back. “Don’t you?”

There’s a lot of unsaid things that hang between the two of you. A lot of things that are better left unsaid. Sadly, you’re too smart for your own good, and you know better. You leave them be.

“I was worried for you,” is what do you say.

Satoru’s expression shifts. The grin vanishes, and you can’t see his eyes, so you’re not sure how he’s feeling, not until the corner of his lips lift up in a soft smile.

“Thank you,” he says, voice uncharacteristically low.

Then he turns away from you, and he’s as loud and boisterous as ever when Ichiji answers.

Of course. The strongest can’t let himself grow soft.

You bend down to pick up your papers, rearrange them neatly on the desk, eyes still on him, on the animated way he moves around the room.

You think you’re more grateful than he knows, for him being back here. Not because he’s the strongest, not because no one gets rid of a curse like he can, but because he’s Satoru. It’s probably better that way, though. You’re both too busy for distractions.

With a sigh, you put your papers back on the desk, then start moving towards the exit.

“Aren’t we going?” you ask Satoru right as you’re reaching the door.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows.

“Hope you wrote all that down, ‘cause I need to get out of here,” he says on the phone, and you hear Ichiji protest, but that doesn’t stop Satoru from hanging up unceremoniously. He follows you in the hallway, shoulders brushing against yours without quite touching.

“Hey, if not in the car, there’s a supply closet on the first floor—”

“No.”

“Yaga’s office is probably—”

“Absolutely not.”

“How about in my bed?” he asks, right against your ear, breath tickling against your skin. Your cheeks heat up.

“…Sure.”

He only savors his victory for a second.

“What about the couch?”

“Don’t push it.”

But he does, and you let him.

How could you not, when you finally have him back?

still trying to get used to writing gojo's character, don't know if i quite have him just yet. i hope you enjoyed this, any feedback you have is welcomed and encouraged! reblogs and comments are what keeps me writing, so please engage with my work to let me know if you'd like to see more~

if you enjoy my writing, you can find more gojo x reader here

[grandline-fics]

Hi! Can I request OP men (monster trio, Ace, Law, or anyone ur comfy with doing!) reaction to reader becoming self conscious and suddenly anxious when there are too many ppl around and they try to ground them? It could be a crowd or even members from the ship! Thank you ^^

DESCRIPTION: You’re anxious when there’s too many people around

WARNINGS:  none

CHARACTERS: Luffy, Zoro

WORDS: 1,318

A/N:  Thank you for this request. I wanted to do more scenarios with some of the other OP men but could only manage two this time. I loved this idea so there'll be a part two in the future. I hope you like what I came up with for this

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

LUFFY

Wherever Luffy goes, a crowd is sure to follow. Whether its civilians drawn to his free and infectious nature or rivals getting into his face as a challenge that he doesn’t back down from the end result is always the same; very little breathing room because of the mass of people. For the most part you were used to this constant buzz of noise and cluster of presences but tonight it was getting to be too much for you. After a long battle of fighting groups of enemies to be immediately dragged into an all out celebration, you were reaching your limit of what you could take. 

You didn’t want to be rude to the people who were grateful for you playing your part in securing their freedom and leave the conversations or festivities too early but when eyes weren’t on you, you were definitely searching for something that could allow you to disappear without drawing too much attention or cause any offence. You breathed a sigh of relief when the current civilian you were talking to left you to grab something to eat. Idly sipping at your own drink you inched further away from the main hub of people, trying to feel some sense of security in a quieter section.

Suddenly from above you heard the loud and all too familiar laughter of your Captain that was already causing an infectious smile to pull at your lips before you had even looked up. Perched high on the town’s clocktower was Luffy, using the stone lion fixture adorning the rooftop as his own personal seat to look over the entire town’s celebration. Because your weren’t amongst the crowd you were easier to spot and when he saw you smiling up at him he grinned wide. 

Immediately he launched his arm out towards you and without waiting for your response he took your arm and pulled you through the air to land safely on the roof with him. Now out from the almost suffocating crowd you finally got a moment to breathe and look down at the view of the town now far enough away for you to appreciate the atmosphere and beauty of their joy. You smiled and settled down to sit next to your Captain, finally able to relax. “So why’re you all the up here in the first place? Would’ve thought you’d have more fun down there with the people.”

“Started to get annoyed when they kept calling me a hero, all I wanted was to eat.” Luffy explained with a grin, moving his enormous hoard of food back onto his lap to continue eating. “Besides when I saw the lion up here it made me think of the Sunny.” You smiled at the simplistic answer and looked at the fixture in question. As nice as it was, it paled in comparison to Sunny. You couldn’t help but let out a small sigh which didn’t go unnoticed by Luffy. He recalled how you hadn’t be with anyone before he brought you up here. “You not having fun?”

“Not exactly.” You shrugged, unable to lie to someone so open and honest with their feelings as Luffy was. You could always trust him to listen and not dismiss your feelings. “It’s just been a lot since we landed here. The people are friendly but it was beginning to feel like I couldn’t breathe around them. It was just getting to be a bit much.”

“How do you feel now?” Luffy asked curiously, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable either. 

“A lot better, definitely like I can breathe again.” You reassured with a bright grin that Luffy returned while also reminding himself to always check on you while in a crowd like this from now on. 

ZORO

Why did you have to land on an island that was virtually a Marine base in its own right? As much as you and some of the others wanted to leave and journey to the next island, Luffy’s orders were final and he wanted to stay. Just because there were a ton of Marines stationed on this island and lived here with their families, why should he change what he wanted to do. As much as you wanted to protest your Captain you knew no amount of logic or begging would change his determination to explore freely. 

The most everyone could compromise on was the promise to keep as low a profile as possible and only engage the Marines if-and only if-your cover was blown. To ensure that disaster of a situation didn’t happen, the more level-headed members of the crew paired up with the more instinctual and chaotic members. Today you were left to walk the town with Zoro, the added element of ensuring he didn’t wander off into areas that would certainly spell trouble meant your worries were doubling. Every step you made through the streets, you swept a nervous glance around trying to keep track of anyone in a Marine uniform while also trying to pinpoint escape routes if the worst did happen.

“You need to relax.” Zoro muttered from beside you and you flinched, your already tense body coiling even tighter. You looked up at him with widened eyes. “You’re going to draw their attention and blow our cover.” At that you bristled but then panic set in and you couldn’t help but look around you again. With a sharp sigh, Zoro turned his body so he was blocking you from view and more importantly you could only look at him. “If you’re getting nervous about keeping a low profile but keep looking around the way that you are, people are going to end up taking notice and cause suspicion.” You opened your mouth to argue but you couldn’t, not when he was making sense. Still you couldn’t just relax the way he was telling you to. Zoro watched you carefully and frowned. “What’s got you so wound up anyway? What’s your biggest worry here?”

“Look around you!” You whispered. “Everyone is either a Marine or related to one. If we get caught-”

“We’ll deal with it as a crew like we always do.” Sometimes Zoro’s clear cut view of a situation was a reassurance but other times it was annoying. Dealing with a situation that could have been avoided in the first place was not what you wanted and wouldn’t necessarily work out as perfect as it would in his head. 

“I just don’t want to be the reason one of us gets hurt when fighting didn’t need to be an option.” You shrugged helplessly. You didn’t want to seem weak, especially not to someone like Zoro but you couldn’t change how you felt in that moment. “I can’t be so laidback like you, sorry.”

Zoro rolled his good eye but threw you a small smirk to show he wasn’t annoyed. Silently he took your arm and swapped your original walking position. While he managed to keep one arm lazily around your shoulder, he also managed to be just ahead of you enough that his three swords were in front of you, almost like a shield. “As long as you’re part of the crew we work together and do our part to protect each other, yeah? So until someone spots us just relax and try not to look so panicked otherwise it looks like I’m kidnapping you.” 

At that you laughed for the first time since arriving on the island and nudged his side while making no move to step out from his arm. It was strange how just being like this managed to calm you immensely. “Let’s hope Sanji doesn’t see. He’ll attack you on the spot and that’ll definitely blow our cover.”

“Yeah…would be worth it though.” Zoro grinned only to wince when you nudged his ribs a little harder. “I was kidding!” Well for the most part he was. 

[unholyhelbig]

request: single mom reader decides to loan shark from natasha’s mob. when reader can’t pay back the loan, natasha’s men capture and beat her. natasha sees reader among the criminals and drug dealers who also haven’t payed back their loans, and excuses her, forgiving her debt.

Title: The Oversight

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 2799

Warnings: Drug use, kidnapping, guns, choking, threats, blood, horrible grammar.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

[a/n: Yeah, I kind of feel like this needs a part two. Let me know what you guys think and if you're interested]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Each breath you drew in spurred a sharp stitch in your side. They came in rapid succession, even as you struggled to recall the fuzzy details that usually calmed you down. Your first street name. What you called your first pet. The name of your second-grade teacher. They all swirled foggily, unable to recall.

Your mouth tasted metallic cotton and your heartbeat was pulsing through your entire body. Counting the thrums hadn’t helped either, you gave up as you rolled your neck in a snow circle. The dried blood that hardened against the side of your face, your cheek, and down the expanse of your collarbone crackled at the soft movement.

The room that housed you was pitch black. It was hard to tell when you opened your eyes, tears welling up and dripping down your face onto your uniform. Your arms were bound behind your back, shoulders screaming in protest and fingers going numb from the cold. Your small noises echoed. Wherever you were was impossibly vast.

The next breath that escaped you was deeper than the rest. Not necessarily calm, but enough for you to take stock of the situation; there were flashes of you leaving the diner where you worked nothing short of twelves. It had just rained, and the air was humid. You dropped your keys and bent down to pick them up.

Before you could insert them into the lock, something hard had come down on your temple. There was a rush of heat sloshing down your face and a moment later, as you looked up at the sky, the steel tip of a boot took the rest of your consciousness.

That didn’t bother you. You were fine, a little banged up, but fine. Your daughter was left with the sitter. It could have been hours, maybe even a day. Your stomach clenched in hunger, and you drifted in and out of lucidity. They’d left you un-gagged but you didn’t have it in you to scream. You had a sinking feeling that no one would hear you anyway.

You’d flinched when the first 500-volt lamp let out a sharp hiss before flipping on. You shrunk into yourself, blinking away the sudden burst of white light that filled the room. It was directed towards you, and the rest of the space was still a frustratingly thick darkness. You couldn’t see who had turned them on, but they could see you.

The boots that walked across the floor were loud. They echoed like your earlier sobs. A metal chair was being dragged, and the sound was piercing. It did nothing to aide your aching head. You were thankful to see something other than pitch black, however big the danger.

You recognized the man who was in front of you. His outline flickered solidly. He looked rougher than you did; dirty-blonde hair, and stubble. There was a bandage across the center of his nose, on his fingertips, as if he’d fisted the razor while shaving. His purple T-shirt was covered by a dusty-brown leather jacket. His stare was hard, emotionless.

“You’re awfully quiet for a hostage.” He said, straddling the chair he had dragged over. His chest rested against the metal backing. “You can scream if you want. Wear yourself down. It’ll make this a lot easier.”

“What is this?” You asked instead of taking him up on his offer.

He was familiar to you. Clint. He came into the diner every Wednesday and Friday night like clockwork. He’d order a roast beef on rye with Swiss cheese and extra dressing on the side. He’d suck down two beers with his meal and tipped generously.

Sometimes he was with the man they called ‘The Winter Soldier’. You’d always found the name laughable, but the rumors about him were enough for you to hold your tongue. He never ate but would sometimes order a diet coke and sip it while Clint spoke through large bites of food.

Law enforcement wouldn’t’ touch Bucky Barnes, and your boss would typically comp whatever he ordered. A few months ago, you had shared your first words with him behind the diner. The air stunk of rotted food and hardly counted as fresh air. However, it was a few degrees cooler than the kitchen.

He had offered you a cigarette, one already perched between his lips, a zippo lighter at the ready in his other hand. You declined with the shake of your head, and a quiet ‘no thank you’. There was an uncomfortable silence, but it was better than the damp warmth of the kitchen. A sweet, burning scent filled your nose when he lit his cigarette and let the smoke curl around the two of you like a slack rope.

“You work hard in there.” Bucky said, taking a long inhale. He held it within his lungs, voice pinched. “Harder than anyone else I’ve seen in a while.”

You weren’t about to tell him about your daughter, not with his reputation, or the small smattering of pink scars across his chiseled features. So, you nodded instead. The number of tips you got in the broken down, greasy diner was the difference between two meals and one. So, you smiled sweetly and laid on the southern accent even though you’d only spent a short stint in Georgia when you were eighteen. It was easy to perfect.

“I bet you could name my order right now.”

“You don’t order.”

“I don’t trust the food.” He shrugged listlessly, a lazy smile against his lips. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“That’s a good call.”

He laughed at your honesty, and it was a nice sound. He disarmed you and that was worrying. Bucky let the cigarette sizzle out in a puddle at his feet. He used the tip of his steel-toed boot to grind the paper into damp ash.

“You wouldn’t’ have to work so hard if you had some extra cash, would you?”

The question caught you off guard and you couldn’t stifle the vicious glare that you gave him. Your break was almost over, and you could have, should have, walked back into the restaurant to finish the rest of your shift. Bucky lifted his hands up as a peace offering.

“Look, lady, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. All I’m saying is, you’re not blind to what happens in there, the type of people that frequent this place. You’ve always turned a blind eye and that’s something my boss appreciates. Something she trusts.”

“And who exactly is your boss?”

He tsked “I can’t tell you that, sweetheart. But she wants to make you an offer, she wants to offer you a loan. You’re what? Three months behind on rent? She’ll front that for you and the following two.”

You took a deep breath of stale air. It was a tempting offer, even if it came in the form of a seedy enforcer in an even seedier alleyway. You were three days from getting evicted. Three days from ending up on the streets in a neighborhood that didn’t’ have a single safe one.

“What’s the catch?” You asked.

“Catch? There’s no catch. This is a friendly loan. All you’ve gotta do is pay it back when you’re on your feet again.”

It was an oversight, not asking for a concrete timeline. You hadn’t paid Bucky’s boss back yet, and over the next few months, there were stifled threats, and both Bucky and Clint watched you carefully at the job that you still worked like nothing had changed. The feeling of being indebted lingered, but this time, it was to an unknown entity instead of a landlord that was ultimately harmless.

Everything needed to be paid back in full. These were thousands you didn’t have. And now, two weeks after the initial threat, you were strapped to a metal chair with blood dripping down the sound of your face, in despite need of a drink of water.

Clint was harmless compared to The Winter Soldier, but his muscles still flexed under his shirt as he pulled his jacket off and let it fall to the dusty floor illuminated in blue light. “I would prefer not to get that dirty. It’s genuine leather, you know?”

You glowered at him as he stood and took a few more steps towards you. He looked relatively harmless each time you’d seen him in the diner. Sometimes he had a girl with him, a slight thing that was just as littered in scars as he was. She would order a plate of bacon that was cooked to a crisp and split it with a golden retriever that laid at their feet.

When his wrapped knuckles made contact with your cheek, your head clocked in the opposite direction. There was a sharp pain in your jaw, a ringing in your ear. He had slammed into the same side of your face as earlier, and you lost vision for a second.

Blood filled your mouth, and you spit the mix of saliva, bile, and blood onto the floor. There was a drain in the center and that worried you more than anything else. Your breathing came fast and hard and you glared at him, teeth stained pink.

“Is that all?” You asked him.

It was stupid, you knew it was stupid. But it bothered you more than anything that you had gotten yourself wrapped up in this. Your father was no stranger to the mob, and you should have seen it from a mile away. The fear he lived with. Until the day he died, he would look over his shoulder and you refused to do the same.

Clint grabbed your face, squeezing hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. “You’re a tough chick, huh? I think we both know why you’re here. All you have to do is get the money and all of this vanishes.”

“I don’t have the money.” Your words were garbled between his fingers. “You’re sure as fuck not going to get it if you kill me.”

“Kill you?” Clint unhanded you and let out a laugh. “Kill you, she says. No, we’re not going to kill you, she would never get her money that way… your daughter on the other hand.”

You pulled against the ropes, and they dug painfully into you. The chair was liable to break, but it had been bolted to the floor. It was much stronger than the one he’d dragged over. The mix of anger and fear that had rushed over you pulled away any thought of lingering aches and pains. Be damned to the head trauma.

Your teeth were gritted, voice a low hiss “Leave her the fuck out of this.”

“Did I strike a nerve?”

“I swear to you, I will get your money, I just need time. I’m not… You can keep me under surveillance as collateral, take my car, my apartment- just leave her out of this.”

Clint gripped your throat with his calloused hand, your ability to breathe became more difficult, half-moon nails digging into your flesh. It stung fiercely, and you let out a gurgle in response. “Or she could be our collateral. I think she’d make a great enforcer, with the proper education, that is.”

Is that what happened to the girl that ate lunch with Clint at the diner? She didn’t looked like she was there against her will, but there was an immense sadness to her eyes. Clint hadn’t released you yet and your vison was growing fuzzy at the edges.

“Let her go,”

Your chest was burning at this point and when he pulled his hand back you tried desperately to regain your sense of lucidity. You coughed, nearly vomiting as he took a long stride backwards, seemingly put into his place with a simple sentence.

Over the ringing of your ears, you heard the sharp click of heels. They were confident, and your chin dropped to your chest as you panted in succession, spit dripping in strings from your lips. You didn’t have the strength to look up, your head was pounding.

“I think that’s enough,” Her voice was smooth, just the smallest bit of an accent in her words. You couldn’t place it, but you couldn’t tell which way was up at this point. “You’re dismissed.”

“Oh, come on Natasha, I was just having a little fun.”

“Dismissed, Clint.”

There was a labored sigh and the sound of his footsteps retreating. It brought little relief to you, however. You felt as if you had traded one evil for another. Eventually, you lifted your head to stare at the ceiling. The stranger hadn’t said anything, and the pitch dark above was more desirable to the unknown.

You heard her sit down and felt her eyes watching you. The swimming in your head started to dissipate so you clocked her with a stare. The woman in front of you was angelic, in such a way that you figured Clint’s choking stunt had actually done you in.

Her stare was an unripe green rimmed in gold, her cheekbones carved from marble. There was a beautiful softness to her expression, and her deep red hair flowed over her shoulders in a waterfall of color. She was studying you, not phased by the cold of the room.

The woman wore a black t-shirt, deep slashes of ink peaking from the dip of the V-neck. You didn’t’ let your eyes linger long. It was a marking that you’d seen on Clints bicep and on Buckey’s hand. You hadn’t gotten a chance to clock it on the girl that was kept in their company.

“Is this the part where you come in with your good cop schtick?” You mumbled.

“Darling, Clint is the good cop.”

“Nice, I like it.” You rolled your shoulders back, fighting the stiffness “Bad cop and worse cop is much more effective.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you for someone in your position. Thousands of dollars in debt and seemingly no way to pay back my money. It’s not a good spot to be in, Y/n.”

Natasha stood from the chair, her muscles straining at the action. In a fluid motion, she pulled a black standard issue handgun from the space between her skin and her jeans. She pumped the shaft, the sound echoed more than your quickened breathing.

She used the tip to push your chin up, forcing you to look into her unblinking eyes. You were a dead man, you knew that from her cold stare. You couldn’t look away, even if the option was given.

“Baby, I’ve been in this business for a long time.” Her breath was hot on your collarbone, a mix of mint and tobacco. “I know exactly the type that you are. I cater to your kind. More often than not, my clientele need a little bit of encouragement.”

The tip of her gun traced your jaw, her finger loosely on the trigger. It was cold against your collarbone, down the center of your breasts. She held it there, jaw set in stone.

“We’ll keep you here for a few days. Once you dry out a little, I’m sure you’ll suddenly come into the cash.”

“Dry out? You think I’m on drugs?”

The tip pushed hard enough into your sternum to make you let out a grunt of pain. “You hide it quite well, pet. I’m sure it won’t be as simple when you start to feel those withdraw symptoms. Money flows simple in this town when those cravings kick in.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her, despite the weapon that she was packing. A frown creased between her eyebrows, but she held it in place. “The hardest thing I’ve ever hit is a blunt in a high school rotation. That was your brilliant plan? Dry me out and then what? Search my backyard for jars filled with money. I don’t have it. I make 2.50 an hour at a diner.”

Natasha scrutinized you, eyes hard. She righted herself and pulled the gun away from your center before flipping on the safety and shoving it back into her jeans. She started to pace the length of the light.

“Bucky, he offered me a loan and I took it so I could pay the rent on an apartment for me and my daughter.” You said, voice quiet “I work thirteen hour shifts six days a week, and it’s still not enough. I’m not… I don’t know who you cater to, but I have a feeling it’s not someone like me.”

“No.” she crossed her arms over her chest, “It seems as if you’re an oversight.”

“Great,” you flexed your numbing fingers, “An oversight you’ll let go?”

Natasha shook her head, clenching and unclenching her jaw. “No, I’m afraid not.”

[darthfighter]

the warmth

Chapter Four of Your Shadow Series

warnings: violence, death, pining, & a sprinkle of smut

summary: as you venture on your first mission with qimir, your feelings for him stand between you two and near death experiences cause tension between both of you

word count: 4.0k

authors note: thanks for all the support and feedback on this fic!! it really keeps me motivated :’) as promised.. this is build up for smut.. next chapter is posted right now as well

part three here !

Training with Qimir began to chip your vulnerability away like paint on a rusty ship.

Over time through the two weeks you had been training with him, you both grew closer. First he opened you up mentally by growing your thoughts to new mindsets, then he trained you combat wise. Growing physically closer to him. He’d often have a grip on your arm from blocking you. Maybe here and there he had been pressed up against your back as his arm wrapped around you when you let your guard down. Most of the time he would tackle you to the floor and look down to you below him. The action would only last mere seconds. Deep down, in your most non Jedi like feelings Qimir has been teaching you, you wanted the seconds to last longer.

This morning as you prepared for the training day ahead of you, Qimir stopped you.

“You’ve done enough. Today will be your first test, we’re heading to Jedha.”

Now you waited for the two of you to arrive on the big moon as you flew through hyperspace. You sat in the cockpit beside Qimir. The flashes of blue reflecting off of your complexion, Qimir gets to see your blue skin as he turns his pilot chair towards you to start conversation.

“It’s quite fitting for you to have a purple lightsaber.” You didn’t bring your lightsaber today. The decision of course made you protest on why you’d be on your first test with no lightsaber, but Qimir made a good point that an ex Jedi with a purple saber alongside a “Sith” with a red one would bring quite the attention. You didn’t disagree with that. So you joined today's mission saberless. “Most complicated Jedi have it.” Qimir finishes.

“You calling me complicated?”

Qimir raises his shoulders a few inches to shrug, and lightly brings his eyebrows up. “Why do you think I took you in? It’s one of the main reasons.”

You are comfortable with Qimir at this point. From the time spent together making his answer less of a threat and rather a compliment. With this comfortableness, you tease. “Is that the only reason you let me in?”

He stays silent.

You grew too comfortable, you thought. It makes your heart escalate at a higher speed and your body gets hot. Embarrassed.

He turns his chair back to the front to face the beams of light behind the windshield as you nervously fidget with your hands in your lap.

The jump out of hyperspace makes you shift into your seat making your back press up against the chair. When you look up, all you see is orange.

You smile to yourself. It resembles home.

–

Walking off the ramp, you felt pure adrenaline. Your boots imprinted themselves to the sand sinking you in just a tad. You remember as a kid, running as you played and feeling the sand below you slow you down.

Qimir stands beside you and doesn’t move. Neither does he say anything. The ramp closed from behind you both while you waited for him to take initiative. Nothing ever came.

You look towards him and see his lip twitch before he finally says something. “You are taking the lead today.” Your eyes grow wide while your heart falls onto the soft sand.

“What do you mean? I have no idea why we’re here?”

“Me neither.” You look towards Qimir’s expression. Amusement. That’s what his face said. His face held a smile growing his smile lines and his Adam's apple shifted as he held in his chuckle. He softly says your name and continues “All I know is you’re gonna use your instincts. Walk towards whatever calls to you. Follow whoever captivates you. Walk into wherever that pulls to you. Let the force do what it does best. Feel.”

Your eyes set on different parts of his expression, trying your best to read him. When you finally conclude he’s serious, you look ahead. You see the city of Jedha. You feel a sort of gravitational pull to it. Like being near a black hole, you sink into the abyss.

The abyss being The Holy City.

While walking towards the city, Qimir educates you a bit on where you are headed. How the city was known for its spirituality. Most come to this planet to find purpose, to find meaning. He explained how some believe that the Jedi and Jedha are intertwined. Roped together. Though you weren’t coming here to achieve the Jedi way.

The closer you got to the city, the more you tried to let yourself feel. Eventually as you made it to the crowded streets of Jedha, you became overwhelmed.

Jedha Pilgrims roamed almost every other corner, children running in groups, and droids left and right. You put one foot in front of the other and decided to stop. You close your eyes and you feel Qimir’s warmth beside you. Waiting for your next move.

The force tells you to take a right on the next alley way, and you do. Walking in that direction feels right, natural. Like you were supposed to come this way.

You continued this initiation repeatedly. Going left and right in different rotations.

Qimir stayed a ways behind you. Watching you, studying you. His hands were held behind his back as he walked behind you like your own personal shadow.

As you make your way through the busy streets of Jedha, you feel an instinct to stop. Your continuous pace ends. Then, a feeling flows through you like a gust of wind. You look towards the mental breeze which reveals a cantina. Music booms from the inside and all kinds of people and different species walk in and out of the entrance. The force is telling you to walk inside.

You look behind your shoulder to see Qimir’s eyes set on you with a piercing gaze. He’s focused on your actions and it makes you nervous. Especially intimidated. To make your feelings not get overwhelmed at his gaze, you look forwards again and start to walk inside.

Your pace walking inside feels choreographed. As you walk wherever the force is taking you, it buzzes your insides. Feeling like you're getting electrified from the inside out.

Something is burning as you walk in. Your eyes scan the dim cantina, and your mind wonders why you were called inside this place.

You decide to place your forearms on a high table as you inspect the room. Qimir joins you and stands beside you.

To your right you see people swarming a table as they play a game and bet on whatever amount of credits laid on the table. Directly across from you, you see a couple clearly on date. The man going on a tangent about Maker knows what as the girl sips her drink. Finally, to the left of you, you see four individuals with dark clothing. Something about their expression says they are here for something. The force feels dark as you look at them. Looking at them feels like it burns your eyes like you are looking directly into the suns.

“Can I get you two anything?” A waitress with a tray in her hands comes forward to you and Qimir. Before you get the chance to speak, he swipes the opportunity to respond out your mouth.

“Ah yes! Do you happen to have any drinks that are not too strong?” Qimir turns to you and puts his hand on your forearm. “Don’t want her taking care of me like the other day, right?”

You look back at Qimir and see a whole other person. A person you are not used to. It feels and looks like he is wearing a mask. Though, he resembles the person he pretended to be from when you first met him. He was playing his alias. You decide to play along.

“Yeah.. Don't want you getting sick like that again.”

“I understand, I’ll bring the best option for that.”

The waitress turns her back and heads to the bar.

Qimir shifts a bit closer to you, committing to the role. His hand still rests above your skin, and he brushes his thumb along your arm affectionately. As he does this, it begins to pull you out of the trance you have been keeping on the forefront of your mind.

“What’s calling you?” He asks, low, and in a different tone than what he was previously doing.

Your mind shifts out of your thoughts from his touch, and resumes onto the dark force ahead of you. You look over to the suspicious people without saying anything, making Qimir look that way. He hums from seeing what you are insinuating. He feels the heat off of them too.

“Here you go. Enjoy.” She brings a small glass of a drink. It’s blue and cold. She turns around and continues her job before you can thank her.

The two of you stand and resume to play your part and Qimir slowly drinks his beverage.

Eventually one of the suspicious men ahead of you walks into the back of the cantina. Going into a dark hall. Immediately Qimir gulps the drink down his throat and begins to hold his stomach while covering his hand over his mouth. He’s playing the part. He grabs ahold of your hand and takes you to the back where the man had gone. The waitress looks at you both and you apologetically give her a smile. Clearly meaning the drink wasn’t for him.

As you turn the corner Qimir shifts the way he had been holding himself. Before he was slouching and hiding behind his hair in his face, now he stood tall and confident.

His hand was still intertwined with your as you both ventured out in these halls, looking for the man. Your eyes pay attention to a bright light illuminating through a doorway. Qimir looks back at you, and you look at him. You finally let go of his hand and feel the warmth of him leave your skin, and start to walk towards the room.

As you turn the corner, you see the dark cloak of a man giving a bag of spice to a younger boy who has a worrisome expression painted on his face.

“Turn around, and mind your business.”

His words don't affect you. You continue to scan the younger boy. You feel the fear residing in him infect you. You feel a wave of protectiveness. It resembles the protectiveness you had for your brother.

You softly walk to him and the man shifts his body in anger.

“I suggest you leave.” He spits a threat into the air.

Your face grows soft to comfort the scared boy in front of you. You sense the uneasiness off of him, and decide to comfort him with the force by getting inside his head, and speaking. “Leave. And don’t come back.” The choice of words can seem threatening, but your soft tone makes it sound reassuring.

Without a second thought, the boy books it out of the room. The man yells “What about our deal!”

Now, the man looks at you with an angered gaze. “I don't know who you think you are.” His chest grows big in anger. He’s threatening you, and doubles it by pointing his blaster between your eyes.

The tension in the air grows thick. You’re defenseless. Though, Qimir stayed behind you.

You see the man's expression grow harsher and sharper. He’s about to pull the trigger, but before he does. His face grows red. At first you believe it's from his fiery anger, but you turn around to see Qimir holding out his hand. Force choking him. The more time passes, the more the man grows weak. He lets go of his blaster and it clashes with the floor. His breaths grow ragged and his hands reach towards his throat. His knees hit the floor, and he passes out. No longer breathing.

Your breath begins to quicken. The man is dead below you. Inches away from your shoes. You start to wonder how long it will be until his body will grow cold like your brother.

Qimir snaps you out of your wave of panic and grabs ahold of your hand, pulling you out of the room. Before you leave the room you pull yourself out of his grip and walk back towards the man, taking the blaster off the floor. You walk back to Qimir and let him take your hand again.

The both of you stomp down the hallway hand in hand. Eventually, the waitress who served you both comes around the corner in front of you with a worried expression “Are you feeling alright?”

Then, one of the other four men that were in the cantina previously shouted behind you. He aims his blaster at you both and fires. Before it can hit you, Qimir pulls you of the way with your hand and wraps his arms around you. However, the blaster hits the woman instead and she immediately falls to the floor.

Anger. Fire. Heat.

You feel strong. Powerful.

Anger bubbles itself in your chest and you want to avenge her.

Without a second thought, you raise your blaster and fire at the man. He falls to the floor.

“C’mon. We need to get out of here.” Qimir orders.

You start to walk towards the back of the hallways in the hopes to find an exit, rather than leaving through the front and creating countless witnesses.

As you turn a corner, another man attacks Qimir. Qimir immediately blocks it and lets go of your hand. You stand unmoving while Qimir blocks the other mans attacks. Even sometimes swiftly moving out the way with the force. While your eyes are set on Qimir a man comes up from behind you and wraps his arms around you. Sending you in a headlock. Your guard was down.

Next thing you know, bright red illuminates through the room. Shining against the walls. Qimir stabs the man with his saber. His eyes set on you, at first he has a worrisome expression painted on him, but then immediately turns into anger. He sees the man aiming his own blaster on your temple, with his finger on the trigger.

The man orders you to drop your blaster, and you do so.

“One move and I'll blow her head off.” The man orders.

Qimir stayed still as his saber rested in his hand, illuminating light and a vibrating sound echoing in the room.

It’s a standstill. Until Qimir swifts his hand with the force and it pushes the blaster out of the man's hand. Also with the force, Qimir yells at you in your head. “Duck!”

You pull your body down and feel the heat of the lightsaber sway above your head. Qimir had thrown his lightsaber to the man and it sliced his head off his neck. You hear the thud behind you, but don't dare to look.

Qimir lifts you from the floor and takes you out from the exit you've been meaning to come out of this whole time.

As you make it outside, the sky is orange. Orange from the suns setting as well as the insane amount of dust in the air.

A sandstorm was on the way.

“We need to make it to the ship before it gets worse.”

You nod your head in agreement. The two of you make it through the busy stress while being interlinked. As much as you enjoyed Qimir’s hand in yours, it made logical sense. With Qimir’s quick steps as well as making sure not to get lost, it was a good idea.

Eventually the two of you made it out of the city, now walking in a field of sand with mountain terrains around you. Qimir had landed his ship outside The Holy City to be smart and not bring attention to you both. This now backfired on you both meaning the walk to your ship was longer than you needed and the middle of a sandstorm.

The more you walked the more you shielded your eyes from the sand. Your mouth began to ingest the sand and would crack as you bit your teeth.

“Qimir! We won't make it!” You shouted through the sandy wind, “We need shelter!”

He doesn’t answer, and instead keeps walking.

The sand ends up getting so bad you can’t even open your eyes anymore. So you let Qimir take the lead. You trusted him with each step you took, following him while intertwined with his hand.

Eventually you feel the gust of wind grow weaker. Weaker until it is no more.

You open your eyes to see a dimly lit cave. There are remnants of a past campsite with sheets of cloth in different areas as a makeshift bed. Rocks in a circle for a campfire, though there was nothing to start one with, and empty bottles scattered around the cave. This was clearly a hangout spot.

You initiate letting go of his hand first as you wander around the cave, inspecting it. It may be empty, but not quiet. Wind howled towards the exit with a sheet of orange dust covering the distance beyond.

Looking back at Qimir, his stature is still. Broad.

“Let me guess, you used the force to find this place?” He doesn't answer you back. Instead he stays silent as he sits on one of the thin makeshift beds. His arms wrapped around his legs as they are bent, and his head bows, making his hair fall to his face.

He seems mad at you. Although you don’t know what for. So you speak your mind. “I did everything you asked me to.”

Silent.

You puff out air as frustration starts to take effect. You rest your hands on your hips. “If you're mad about the sandstorm it’s gonna go away eventually. We just have to wait-” Suddenly Qimir rises to his feet, fast.

“I'm not mad about the sandstorm.” He says, firmly, and showing hints of contrite. “You let your guard down.”

You look into his eyes and see he is serious. This makes you laugh lightly. Immediately he gets offended by this as you laugh in his face.

“You give me my first test with no weapon? And you expect it to go smoothly? I was almost considered useless compared to you! You have your saber Qimir.”

He raises his hand in the air to make his point, “The reason I didn't have you bring it is to not bring attention to yourself.”

“Then why do you get to bring yours?”

“Because I'm sure of myself! Once you are seen with me with your saber as well, you’ll become a target too. You need to decide if this is the life you wanna live.”

Your voice speaks in a pitch lower than before, “You could’ve just asked me if I wanted that.”

Silence fills the air. The way you look at him, answers that you want this life. You want to be alongside Qimir. You have never felt more yourself until you met him.

This seems to bring the tension down. You decide to sit down on a bed across from Qimir. He stays standing. He holds himself like he is impatient. Clearly something is on his mind.

“You could’ve died.” Qimir says, sternly. He sounds so serious your heart drops. He turns around to look towards the exit of the cave. Seeing dust brush past the exit. “I didn’t search for you for so long to lose you like that.” He mumbles. Though the wind made it difficult for you to hear. You only hear just a few words. The words being, search, long, and you.

Qimir doesn't turn around to continue the conversation, only keeps his back facing you. Silently. You lay down on the uncomfortable bed and turn away, facing the opposite way. The adrenaline from before started to take effect and make you tired. You felt your limbs melt into the floor and your brain grow quieter. You drift into sleep.

–

You open your eyes and it’s pitch black. Though it is so dark you can't tell if your eyes are closed or open, you still hear the wind howl in the distance. It hasn’t left. You frown your eyebrows as you can’t see around you, wondering where Qimir is. You can’t see anything, but you know you can if you want to.

Just as Qimir uses The Force as he can barely see through his helmet, you decide to focus exactly like that. You sit up and close your eyes. Reaching out to The Force. You focus on your breathing, making it steady and firm. You look out and feel. You feel warmth. Heat radiates to the right of you, as if a fire was lit right next to you. Your hand reaches out towards the flames, and you're met with Qimirs arm.

“What? What’s wrong?” He reacted, softly.

You shake your head side to side. “Nothing. Just didn’t know where you were.” Your hand leaves him and your skin feels warmed up as you take your hand away. You lay your back down onto the floor once again, and blink repeatedly and it looks like you aren’t even blinking from how dark it is.

Tension is in the air. So thick you could choke on the air. You swallow from nervousness and close your eyes in the hopes to fall back asleep.

After a couple of minutes of attempting to, you feel the fire grow closer. The flame starts to reach you, and you feel Qimir’s touch alongside your arm, caressing it.

Your breath hitches in your throat from the unexpected lingering touch. Qimir can’t hear how ragged your breathing became from the wind in the distance. Before he moves any more of his touch, he talks to you through the force.

“Do you feel the warmth too?” He finishes by saying your name.

You're speechless. You can't muster any words out of your mouth, let alone your brain. Although you don't want his touch to end, so you reciprocate it. Your hand on the arm he's touching reaches towards his chest. You rest it on his heart, feeling his heart bang against your palm.

He takes this as a yes to his question and positions himself in between you, and he does it so slowly. Your hands now plant themselves on his chest, and roam over his broad shoulders. His arms steady themselves beside each side of you. His thighs glue to yours and don't separate. Qimir lowers his chest until you can feel his face inches away from yours. He lingers his lips next to your ear instead of your lips, and speaks.

“When you think of desire, what do you feel?”

You sigh so loud next to him it moves his long hair next to his face. Your heart has never raced this hard in your life. You feel yourself shift below him, inpatient. Your hands that have rested on his shoulders now reach his chest, and you squeeze his shirt in your palms.

Even though your eyes remain open in the hopes to see Qimir, you never do, but you feel him move on top of you. He gets closer to you, instead of holding himself with his palms, he rests on his forearms.

Both of your chest heave next to each other in want. Resembling like you need to breathe each other in like air.

His right arm lifts, and you feel his warm touch rest on your cheek. He cups your cheek with his hand to finally know where your face is laid. He can navigate a bit better now in this pitch black abyss.

Qimir’s nose brushes yours, and you close your eyes, waiting for the inevitable kiss the two of you will share, but it never comes. He’s waiting. For you. He wants to know you want this. As it is considered to be an action Jedi forbid. Qimir doesn’t know how committed you really are.

You show him how much you want this by crashing your lips to his, feeling both of you kiss in sync. First, it's slow, and soft. But as more kisses were shared, the more hungry you both get.

chapter five here !

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ³

𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞, 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞...

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a ghost from your past makes a surprise appearance, dragging forth all the regrets and wishes you'd spent years trying to drown. and yet, some strange string of Fate keeps you and the future king of the pirates intertwined, for better or for worse.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!luffy x gn!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.6k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: use of Y/N, gn reader, ANGST, alcohol, an existential crisis probably

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬: the 1 (long pond), i want to live, son of nyx

series masterlist

If someone asked you how many years you’d been a marine, your answer would be uhm, well, less than ten, because the actual number was lost to you. But you knew it’d been less than ten. Being with the marines for more than a decade was a thought that shot nausea straight to your gut.

However long it’d been, things had reached a comfortable norm. You rarely saw Koby those days. Back when you were stationed on the same ship, you and he had grown close, finding something familiar in the soul of the other. Now Koby was a captain, you were just under him in rank as a commander, and the two of you were under different commands. 

You rarely noticed when a day passed anymore. It was all a numbing cycle of chores, reports, and arrests—repeat. Your cohorts had taken to a game they called Make-Y/N-Crack, in which they did everything in their power to draw any sort of reaction from you.

No one had won so far, your deadpan too seeped into your whole being that you’d near forgotten how to smile.

Your main indicator of a passage of time was the wear and tear of Luffy’s wanted poster, one of his very first, and certainly not his last. It was faded in some places and torn in a corner, but you held it close to you wherever you went, including the island your ship was stopped at for supplies. 

Given that the ship would be there for a few days, you and your fellows had one night to yourselves to roam the town and do as you pleased. 

“Commander—”

“We’re off duty, Nia. Call me my name,” you said evenly, cutting off the soldier girl. Nia burned bright red, mouth snapping shut. You sighed. “What do you need?”

“Well, I was just wondering why you’re going that way?” she asked, jutting her chin at the side street you’d been headed toward when she called you back. Behind Nia, a rowdy crowd of fellow marines waited for their friend to join, each casting you a contemplative kind of glower. “We’re all headed to the bar, if you wanted to come?”

They all hated you, for reasons you didn't bother to fathom. All except Nia, who was possibly too gentle to be a commissioned marine, in your opinion. “I’m fine. I know where I’m going.”

She nodded once and turned tail, jogging after her friends who nudged her shoulder with a tease you didn’t catch. You stood for a moment and watched them go; you watched their easy smiles and close camaraderie, and you missed that.

Koby flourished in this line of work, setting out everyday to make this world better. You felt you should be doing the same—that you were doing the same—but it all felt so useless. So mundane. Worthless.

You had yet to cross paths with the pirate Monkey D. Luffy. It hadn't yet been a decade, but what if ten years did pass? What then? Would you continue as you are, mindlessly walking a path you’d carved for yourself?

“I need a drink,” you muttered, turning back down the dimly lit street. 

You were somewhat familiar with the town, having been here once before around a year ago. Koby had been with you then, that being one of your last weeks together before he was promoted and moved to a different ship.

It was your intention to find the cozy tavern once again to maybe mull over some of your less-bitter memories. That thought had you running a hand over your face. What’s become of me?

Sometimes you forgot why you’d joined the marines, and then the poster tucked into the pocket of your coat burned with the reminder. Other times, you wondered why you stayed after all this time (you hadn't found a decent answer for that yet).

You found it was easier to get drunk than to wonder where your decisions had led you.

The moment you stepped into the tavern a wave of warm air hit you, along with the odor of sweat, alcohol, and bread. Not the most pleasing combination, but you trudged inside and beelined for the bar anyway. 

The bartender shot you a tight grin, stress lining her forehead. “What can I get ya?”

“Surprise me,” you muttered, setting some money down on the counter. She swiped it up and made to fetch a drink, but her eyes found your messy uniform first. She hesitated, glancing up at you, before warily continuing on her way.

You threw your head into your hands, heaving a sigh. You really should have changed before leaving the ship. Being a marine didn’t make you popular with a great many people. You liked it when town’s smiled at you even when they saw your uniform, but those occurrences were growing fewer and farther between.

If only you had Koby’s optimism. If only you had the guts to stand up. If only you’d gone with Luffy. If only, if only, if only…

He’d probably forgotten all about you, moved on with the sea in his hair and light in his eyes. 

“Here you go.” The bartender placed a drink to your right. You cast it a glance and pulled it closer, peering into the dark liquid. “Strong stuff. Ya look like you need it.”

You nodded through a huffy laugh. “Thanks, miss.”

After cracking your neck you tipped back your drink, grimacing at the sting and just plain awful taste. She chuckled as she walked away. “Told you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled into the cup, taking another swig and slamming it back down with a cough.

A figure plopped into the seat beside you, the ruffling of their coat meeting your ears. They let free a hefty sigh, and you swore you felt their exhaustion just radiating off their skin. 

“Brandy, if you please.”

You choked into your cup, this time not from the rancid burn. Stiff as a board, you stared daggers into the bar, hands tight around the cup. The bartender handed over a glass to the person beside you.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” That voice was gruff with a sly tilt to it. You knew that voice.

You didn’t want to turn, but you did anyway, wide eyes landing on the profile of a one armed, red haired pirate you thought for certain you’d never see again.

Shanks swirled around his liquor before taking a drink, slamming the cup back down a moment later. Really, you should have fled the site and gone to spend a miserable night with the other marines. But your whole body was seized up, eyes locked on Luffy’s idol.

“I—” you squeaked, cupping a hand over your mouth an instant later as Shanks cast you a side eye.

Immediately, he was curious, wondering why exactly this kid looked so familiar. He turned his head, disturbed by how you stared at him like you’d seen a ghost. scrutinizing your face, it hit him like a punch to the gut; in his mind’s eye he shrank you down a few feet, gave you a set of buck teeth, and placed you next to a little curly headed boy.

“Y/N?” He laughed. “What—You’re so big!”

Though he smiled, you couldn’t help but picture his face in a wanted poster. Your uniform felt all too hot and heavy all of a sudden. “Uh…”

“What’re you doing here, kid?” He clapped you on the shoulder and nearly knocked the breath out of you. “Where’s Luffy? I never thought I’d see one without the other.”

You hated to spoil his excitement at the prospect of seeing the boy, so you avoided the question altogether. “I’m here for work.”

He saw right through you, his smile losing some of its genuineness. “And Luffy?” You turned and tipped back the last of your drink, and Shanks finally noticed your attire, particularly the familiar emblem. “Shit—the Marines? Really?”

Annoyance crept up your mind. You held your cup in both hands, gaze hung. “Commander Y/N, at your service.”

“Commander… wow.” He shifted to completely face you, a grin working up his face. “That’s amazing.”

You had expected a shout, maybe the retrieval of his pistol. Not whatever that was. You faced him warily, catching pride flashing in his eyes. “You’re not angry…”

“Why would I be?” He waved for the bartender to bring him another drink, motioning two fingers at her. “You’re successful. Always knew you would be, Worm.”

A childish part of you fluttered at the mention of that old nickname. Bookworm. Hah. You hardly read these days, always too busy. The bartender put down two shot glasses and swept away. “But… My job is to catch pirates like you.”

He scoffed, nudging your glass toward you. “No offense, Commander Bookworm, but you’re not catching me anytime soon.”

“I wasn't going to try. Just saying.” You picked up the glass and watched him reach to clink his to yours. Letting slide a scant smirk, you accepted the cheers and shot back the liquid in sync with Shanks. 

You nearly gagged again as you set the glass back down, laughing. “God, I hate liquor.”

Shanks nudged you as he called for yet another drink. “Can’t say the same.” The conversation fell short, and Shanks cast you a glance as you fiddled with the fabric of your coat. “Mind if I ask how you got here? I mean, I figured for sure you’d be with Luffy. You’ve seen his poster, right?”

“Of course,” you snapped back, your hand passing over your pocket. “I, uhm… A while back, Luffy escaped…”

His eyes held a misty sadness. “And you didn’t.”

You found yourself shaking your head, hands closing into fists. “I chose to stay behind.”

Shanks waited for you to elaborate, blinking blankly. And when you didn’t— “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“Excuse me,” you startled.

“Why the fuck,” he enunciated incredulously, “would you stay behind? He’s gotta be beside himself.”

Straightening up, you narrowed your eyes at him. “Even if he was, it’s been years, Red Hair. He’s gotten over it—”

“Have you?” The question was instantaneous, no hesitation behind the dagger-like words.

“What?”

“Gotten over it. I doubt you have.”

You gaped at him. “You know nothing about me. Don’t think you’ve got me all figured out just because you ruined my life by giving Luffy all those stupid dreams—” You choked, huffed, and attempted to make a quick escape.

Shanks’ hand found your shoulder, gentle yet firm, and you plopped back onto your seat, eyes closed tight. “Let me go.”

“I’m sorry,” he said slowly. “Okay? I’ll back off.”

Without asking or saying anything at all, the bartender set another glass of that awful drink in front of you. You took a sip, shaking his hand off and taking a moment to breathe. “It was for the best, all right? I would only hold him back. Look how far he’s come. He couldn’t have done that with me lagging after him.”

“Why would you be lagging?” When you didn’t answer, only turning your face away, he nudged you with his shoulder. “Worm?”

That name made it hard to take anything seriously, but somehow, you managed, hissing out a sigh through your teeth. “It’s much easier to read about other people being brave.” Chewing your lip, “I like to read about heroes, mostly to remind myself why I’m not one.”

“You’re a marine. Surely sometimes you’re a hero.”

“Sometimes.” Throwing caution to the wind, you drank your whole glass in one swig, letting the alcohol simmer through your blood and turn your mind hazy. 

“What did you mean,” he asked. “When you said I ruined your life?”

“Oh. It’s nothing.”

“Tell me.”

You tried to slide off the stool again. “Goodbye, Shanks.”

He didn’t stop you this time, only shifting to watch you slowly trudge away. Shanks scoffed. “C’mon, Worm. What’re you so afraid of?”

Lots of things. You were afraid of spiders and falling, though not of heights themselves, and you quite liked the daddy-long-legs. You were afraid of losing, of failing, of being wrong. Of seeing Luffy again and having him be completely disappointed with what he saw. An all consuming fear that you can’t change what you are, that you’re too far down this road to ever think of turning back.

You hardly realized you’d stopped walking until Shanks was at your side, moving to catch your distracted gaze. “Kid?”

You swallowed thickly. “I was always content with my fate. Luffy wasn’t, and a lot of that has to do with you. The rest was his own passion.” That incessant burn resurfaced in your throat. “So I stayed because I wasn’t about to drag him down with me. He’s too good. I…”

Dammit. You’d been doing so well. You hadn’t cried in months. Trying to glare, you spat, “Goodbye.”

You made to walk past him and actually leave the building this time, but he caught your wrist. Whirling around, your curses were cut off by a quick and dangerous offer: “Come join my crew.”

Shanks was so sincere, nearly hopeful as he stared into your eyes. You wondered if this is how your father would look at you if he knew how to be kind.

Barely breathing, you shoved every word and every notion down to the pits of your mind, retracting your arm to wrap it around yourself. A singular tear fled your eye and was wiped away in an instant. Shaking your head, you backed away from him, trying not to stumble, and bolted out of the tavern. 

The worst of it was Shanks’ sad sigh you caught as you fled, like he’d expected this, like he was wondering why he bothered to ask.

Later, you found Nia and the others waltzing back up to the ship. Your face was dry and your expression a void, and Nia smiled as she raced toward you. 

“Commander!” She skidded to a stop, backtracking, “Sorry. Y/N.”

“What is it?” you said a little too harshly.

She wasn’t perturbed, grinning up at you. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Your heart held this odd numbness you had come to equate with acceptance. Luffy’s poster burned like hellfire in your pocket. “I think so.”

Nia invited you to join the rest of them in the ship’s galley, promising good conversation and cheap wine smuggled on board. You told her you’d think about it, and she chased her friends up the gangway and onto the ship. 

The sea licked at the wood of the docks and the wind bit at your skin. And you stood solemnly, watching that crumpled wanted poster become saturated by murky water till it sank out of view.

You regretted it instantly, a recurring theme for you, apparently. 

How easy would it be to walk away from the marine vessel and find Shanks again? How simple would it be it to ditch this marine’s coat and set off on your own? Your hands started to tremble at the very notion. Not easy and not simple at all. 

Casting a glance up at the starry sky, you bit back a sob, and you made a wish on the first star you laid eyes on. Please, please don’t hate me.

Stiffening, you set your jaw and cursed yourself. You had to get a hold of yourself. Being a marine was hell for you, but you’d been doing it for years. Seeing a ghost from your past and having him give you a chance shouldn’t be so crushing. Honestly, you should be cursing Shanks for giving you an offer you didn’t deserve. This was all his fault, all Luffy’s fault—

And you broke, breath seizing as a silent cry fled your lips. 

You loved him—of course you still loved him. You would until you died, you think. And that was the problem. With your arms wrapped around yourself, you thought back to the day everything changed.

Luffy’s little broken boat, disappearing on the horizon, Vice Admiral Garp leering at your shoulder. Your first moments entrapped by fear. You’d been proud of that day, once upon a time. Now you weren’t so sure.

Was there any room to turn back, with years of running from your past behind you?

“Oh, Luffy. What have I done?”

A cord in your heartstrings snapped, and your feet scrambled away from the marine vessel. A gasp ripped from your chest, eyes aflame, and your fists tightened desperately around this bout of courage.

Back down the road, back to the little tavern, you burst through the double doors, certain you looked insane as your eyes sweeped the dim room. The bartender’s eyes snapped up from where she was cleaning the many glasses you and Shanks had left behind. A fistfull of beri had been left in his wake.

“Keep going left,” said the bartender. “You might catch him.”

A thank you slipped past your lips as you raced outside, raising your hands in two L’s to pinpoint the right direction, taking off down the street that faded from cobblestone to dirt under your footfalls. 

Over twigs and leaves, under trees that grew thick further down the path, your heart thundered against your ribcage. The sloping road grew thin before it gave way to a secluded beach lit only by the moon. Your chest heaved as sand kicked up behind you.

“Wait!” you cried. “Shanks! Wait, please! I'll go with you! Shanks…”

A little lantern illuminated the dingy too far away to hear you as it rowed closer to the ship anchored out in the bay. A whisper of his name fell off your tongue, throat suddenly dry and stomach sick.

You hit your knees, fists grabbing at grains of sand that slipped through your fingertips. “Come back. Please…”

For the second time in your life, you watched a ship sail away carrying with it the chance of freedom, leaving you on the sand empty and helpless.

જ⁀➴

Luffy rarely dreamed when he slept. When he did dream, he never remembered it, the wild scenes fading seconds after he woke. 

Which is why he startled awake, hands clawing at his hammock, straw hat falling off his face and into his lap. He clung to the sound of your laughter, of your touch grazing his cheek, of the feel of your skin under his hands—

He didn’t dream often, but when he did, he often dreamt of you. 

He rubbed at his sleep crusted eyes and ached for the quickly fading memory. The finer details of the plot were soon lost on him, but he knew in this dream you were happy. Luffy liked those dreams much more than the more common ones where you cried, too far out of his reach to comfort.

“Luffy?” spoke Chopper, his voice hazy with sleep as he yawned. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Confused, Luffy realized he was gasping for air. “O–Oh, I’m fine, Chopper.” He glanced down from his hammock to offer the reindeer a trembling smile. “I’m good, really.”

Not buying it, Chopper huffed and stood from his own hammock, making quick work of climbing up to Luffy’s. He sat across from his captain, worry all over his furry face. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it.” He reached over to ruffle the tuft of fur between Chopper’s antlers. “Sorry for waking you.”

He smiled softly. “It’s okay.” Chopper started to snuggle into the fabric of the hammock, obviously having no intention of climbing back down. “I was having a bad dream too.”

Luffy leaned back, doing his best to calm his nerves enough to go back to sleep. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm. Nami was angry at me. It wasn’t fun.”

The captain laughed, promptly shut up by a voice from the hammock underneath. “Shut up, would ya?”

Chopper squeaked, “Sorry, Zoro.”

The swordsman sighed and rustled in his hammock. “It's fine. Go to bed.”

Soon Zoro’s snores filled the mens’ quarters, and Chopper’s calm breathing soon followed. Sanji and Usopp snored in tandem as well, till only Luffy remained awake, staring at the ceiling, trying desperately to recall his dream.

You couldn’t be happy, wherever you were. How long had it been? Far too long, though he wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed since he last saw you on the beach of Foosha Village. 

Would he recognize you? Would you recognize him? Luffy had to hope the answer was yes, and he had to hope one day he’d have the chance to rescue you, to set you free just as you freed him.

“I’ll find you,” he threatened the silence. “You can’t hide forever.”

Miles and miles away, kneeling on the sand, you swore you heard a familiar voice in the wind, but it couldn’t have been. You were halfway near drunk. That must've been it.

Luffy turned his head to look out the window of the cabin, and you tilted your chin to stare at the stars. The stars twinkled down on the both of you, promises and threats hung on the wind and sea that separated you. 

Some endings are always meant for tragedy. Some loves are meant for doom. It was how Fate worked. 

But Fate favored you and Luffy—forever working to save the other, forever aching for the day that would bring you side by side once again. 

>>

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @khaleesihavilliard

[demonslayerunhinged]

Unhinged rant >:(

Demon Slayer fandom discourse

I want to start this by saying, I know that Demon Slayer isn't an explicitly queer manga/anime because Shōnen Jump, but I believe that Demon Slayer is for the queers and has lots of themes that we can identify with like love, acceptance, loss, guilt and strength.

Despite what these stupid, smelly, ignorant, power-scaling, non-ass-washing, Cheetos-dust-snorting, once-a-month-showering, dude-bros would have you believe, Demon Slayer isn't just another battle Shōnen anime/manga, it's a love story and about the perseverance of the human spirit and if that doesn't speak to the queer experience then I don't know what does.

Plus, I don't know how Gotogue-sensei is as a person, but I think the fact that she managed to make one of the kindest mcs in shōnen speaks volumes about her disposition. I don't think she would be one to reject queer fans identifying with her story so well.

In these recent times, it seems like everything is going to shit, the world is slowly regressing into the dark ages destroying decades of progress and trying to distract ourselves from all this by engaging with the fandoms we love is hard because everything seems to cater to cis, straight, white men.

To be honest, I created this blog mostly out of spite, but I also wanted to carve out a tiny space for myself where I can talk out of my ass and not have some decrepit reddit dude bro go all 'well, ackshually ☝🤓' on me, and I'm happy to have met so many like-minded people.

So, I've compiled a list of answers to the common types of nonsense drivel these fuckers post in response to shipping and queer discussions and theories about Demon Slayer. You can copy and paste whenever and wherever you encounter these black holes of ignorance and stupidity if you want.

In the Taisho era, there were no gay/queer people: This is one of the dumbest statements I've ever heard, and the fact that it's a really common response really shows how we've failed as a society. Queer people have existed for ages all over the world, Japan has an extensive queer history. Demon Slayer is based on samurai culture and samurai culture was really, really, really, really, really, really, really gay. Sure, it had rigid roles, but that doesn't make it any less queer. A quick Google search would go a long way to nourish that dried-out, shrivelled husk you call a brain. Go read a book you walking condom ad, your parents and education system have obviously failed you.

It's forcing sexuality into the story: We literally had a whole season dedicated to the mcs going to the 'entertainment district', we have a sexy man with three wives who talks about 'loving' them all equally, we have the abundant male fanservice, one of the mcs talks about women on the daily, we have a boy who eats demons and is horny shy around girls all the time, we have his brother who exposes his tits because he's proud of them, we have a demon who was essentially a sexual predator that targeted 16-year-old girls and ate them, the main villain shape-shifts into a woman to 'get' information as a Geisha, we have a girl who literally lusts after almost everyone she meets but yea no lets not force sexuality into it 🙄.

I don't care: Okay cool, but I value your opinion as much as I value the shit I took this morning.

It's who they are as a character that matters: Sexuality is a part of a person's character. Your sexuality defines your experiences, decisions, options and outlook on life. That's why you as a straight man can be so ignorant.

It's forced*(I really hate this one): Honestly, fuck you. Why is it that you only think something is forced when it doesn't revolve around you and your experiences? You guys are fine with tons of anime/manga that sexualize women and girls to an insane degree even when it doesn't make sense, but that doesn't stop you from consuming and glazing the hell out of the authors, but when we talk about including queer characters suddenly it's forced? Your existence is forced, and you can just eat shit.

I don't like it: Who the fuck do you think you are dictating how other people consume and interpret the media they consume? How about you go hump your smelly, cum-encrusted anime body pillow.

Men can be touchy/emotional with each other without it being gay, it's just our western standards: No it isn't the majority of shipping activities and works come from Japan, which wouldn't happen if it was just part of their culture. We're not stupid, we know men and boys can be friends without it being sexual, and we know when a friendship is just that, and then we know when two guys are straight up pining for one another.

It's not canon/the mangaka didn't explicitly state it: They can't because of Shōnen Jump, so a lot of them pass off information about a character through subtext, metaphors and allegories. They also don't have to, things don't have to outright stated or 'canon' for them to make sense and if you need them to be so for you to understand or enjoy the story then a moment of silence for your head since it's without a brain.

It's not common: Despite Shōnen Jump, there are lots of mainstream anime/manga that have queer characters: One Punch Man, Hunter x Hunter, Dr. Stone, Windbreaker, Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, Naruto, Gintama, Dragon Ball Z, My Hero Academia, Fairy Tail, One Piece, Attack on Titan, Tokyo Ghoul, Jujutsu Kaisen, Chainsaw Man, Blue Period and that's not to talk of the ones with queer subtext like I dunno ALL Sports anime/manga to ever exist!

Why do you look for LGBTQ in everything?: It might be hard for straights to understand but growing up queer and looking for a connection causes us to develop what we call a gaydar that helps us identify characteristics, mannerisms, features and vibes from a person that screams 'ONE OF US! ONE OF US!'. It's only natural, and our gaydar doesn't suddenly turn off when we're consuming media, especially when it's media that we love and hold dear to our hearts. It doesn't matter if the mangaka inserted these characteristics intentionally or not, that doesn't stop us from picking up on them, and why should it?

Shipping is stupid: So is power-scaling, but that doesn't stop you assholes from making thousands of posts, creating YouTube channels and sharing content about it and cramming it down our throats. It's even worse because it's from grown-ass men.

The characters have no chemistry/they hate each other: A lot of queer ships have more chemistry, history, interactions, personality and development than a lot of 'canon' straight couples. It's literally a trope in media that all a man and a woman need to be in a relationship is to be in close proximity to each other, then their relationship goes on to be drier than salted crackers in silicone packets scattered in the Sahara desert. Well, I guess you can't blame the creators, you write what you know after all.

I know this is a lot and I know how angry I sound right now, but I'm so sick and so tired of all these guys who are as useful to the human race as pieces of freshly shat out dog turds that have been thrown in the grass by the sidewalk in a hot summer afternoon, who can't see past their lice-infested neck beards trying to make something as colorful, interesting, joyful and queer as anime and the fandoms fit their own boring, stupid and misogynistic worldview.

In Conclusion, Demon Slayer is amazing, horny* and unbelievably queer.

*I'm talking about the male fanservice btw :)

[captn-trex]

a little while longer

Hunter x F!Reader

word count: 4.1k

description: your job keeps you away from pabu, your home, more than you would like, but when you return after weeks away, there's a certain someone eager to make you stay for good.

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, all that good stuff, wet hair hunter !!!

a/n: been sitting on this for a little while and finally finished it lol, I'm pretty proud of how it turned out in the end. also I realised after that pabu's beach might not be sand....... just pretend it is okay

You brought your ship out of Hyperspace and sighed delightedly at the sight of the swirling blues of Pabu's surface. It was always such a wonderful sight after a long stretch of selling.

You owned a small vineyard on Pabu, though of course none of your customers from other areas of the galaxy knew that's where you operated from. The drinks you made were your main source of money, but you also owned a small wine bar on Pabu. Most of your time was taken up by travelling to other star systems and selling your wares, but your favourite times were spent back home, talking with customers across the bar.

As you entered the upper atmosphere, you were greeted by the wonderful orange and pink hues of the sun disappearing over the horizon. You quickly sped down to the surface, eager to watch the sunset from the town square as you often did when you were back.

When you set down your ship, you saw the flash of blonde hair as the young girl you had grown so familiar with rushed across the square. You smiled at her eagerness, and barely made it out of your ship before you were attacked at the waist by her crushing hug.

“You've been gone for so long!” Omega whined, “You've never been away that long before”

“It was only a few weeks Mega” You told her, but she still wasn't pleased.

“How long are you back for this time?” She asked, her eyes wide and shining up at you.

“I'm not sure” You ruffled her hair with tight lipped smile.

She groaned as she let go of you, “Alright, well I guess I should just make the most of it then”

“That sounds good to me” You smiled down at her as she slung her arm around your waist, pulling you in the direction she knew you'd be going.

Ever since the Bad Batch had arrived on Pabu, you had spent a lot of your time with Omega. For whatever reason, she was very interested by your work, and she often came to help you with some of the more simple parts of the process. She was fascinated that you could create such a mind-altering beverage just from simple fruits. She always wanted to try some, but she was many years away from an acceptable drinking age, and so you had to crush her dreams every time you said no. You thought that she probably continued asking because one day you might just break, and sometimes it felt like that. Her hopeful smile was just too precious, and the look of dismay that followed denying her a taste was enough to make most people do as she liked.

Omega let go of your waist to pull you down onto the ledge by your forearm, a little too close for your comfort but you knew she was smart enough not to fall off.

“Careful Mega” You reminded her anyway, and she rolled her eyes.

“I'm always careful” She said, shuffling closer to you so that she could rest her head on your shoulder.

“I know. Doesn't stop me worrying though” You sighed, leaning your head onto hers and pulling her in with your arm around her back.

“Maker, you're as bad as Hunter” Omega mumbled, earning a chuckle from you.

“Can you blame him? Chaos follows you wherever you go”

“That's not my fault” Omega shrugged.

“Hm, I'm not sure about that… but if you insist” You replied, and both of you settled into silence as you watched the sun setting.

The pink clouds circled and danced around the orange glow, and a deep red was bursting from the horizon line. As the sun sunk lower and lower, the air was filled with a haziness that only came on beautiful summer evenings such as this. It was still warm, a little light and people still moved about in the town, but the lack of wind made everything seem stationary, like a picture, a frame, frozen in time.

“You should get home” You mumbled to Omega, feeling calmed by the serene atmosphere.

“Probably” She sighed, and lifted her head from your shoulder to look at you, “Why don't you come with me?”

“I'd love to Mega, but I should be getting back to the bar really” You told her reluctantly. You had told the person working you'd be back before sunset…

“Awh, come on, just this once? You can come and see Hunter” She grinned up at you and you rolled your eyes. You had made the sore mistake of letting slip the nature of your feelings towards the Sergeant, and Omega saw it as a perfect opportunity to try and play matchmaker. “I'm sure he'd like to see you” She added.

“Yeah yeah, in my dreams right?” You chuckled, and held your hand out to help her up as you stood.

“You know, there's nothing stopping you from just telling him how you feel” She said matter-of-factly, looking up at you with her hands on her hips.

“Well, for now I've still got to go back to the bar. I'll see you tomorrow kid” You smiled at her, and she waved you off before running back home.

You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you walked in the direction of your bar. It was located down a small street, almost tucked away, but the people of Pabu all knew where it was, those that drank wine anyway.

You approached the building, flower baskets adorning the windows and metal chairs and tables outside, a few people sitting there and enjoying the last traces of light. You brought your lighter from your pocket and lit the candles at the tables, the people smiling appreciatively and welcoming you back to the island.

You absolutely loved it here. You hadn't lived here your whole life like many of the other islanders, but when you had arrived around seven years back, they took you in as one of their own. Everyone was exceedingly friendly, and your dream of running an orchard and wine bar was quickly taken up when you had mentioned it in passing to Shep. A lot of people had pitched in, and you would never be able to repay them for that.

That was partly the reason you spent so much time away, because you couldn't possibly cover the cost of running your business just through the wine bar and the sales you made on the island. There simply weren't enough people. Truthfully, you wished that you never had to leave at all.

“Heya Lenny” You smiled at the man currently working the bar.

“Hey boss, looks like you're late again” He smirked, knowing what had kept you.

“Sorry Len, you can go home now, I've got it from here” You chuckled, setting down your bag behind the bar.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, go spend time with that lovely husband of yours” You smirk at him, the emphasis coming from the newness of the title, as they had only got married a month prior.

“Alright, don't threaten me with a good time” He laughed, untying his apron and leaving out the back door.

You settled yourself behind the bar, looking up at all the bottles of wine that adorned the back of it. You smiled, looking at the labels from years gone by, as well as the new additions. You could honestly say that you were proud of yourself for how far you'd come.

“I heard you were looking for me” A voice spoke from behind you, and you instantly knew who it was. You turned towards the front of the bar, and met the soft brown eyes of your favourite customer.

“Who told you that? Wait- let me guess… Omega” You chuckled at the young girl’s attempts to get you two in the same space all the time.

“Oh, you weren't actually looking for me?” Hunter asked, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I wasn't, but it's nice to see you anyway” You smile.

“You too. When did you get back? You should've come said hi” Hunter leaned on the bar.

“Only as the sun was going down, I had to get back here anyway” You shrugged, brushing past his comment, “What can I get you?”

“Oh nothing, I was only coming to see why you were looking for me” He backed away from bar a little, “I'll leave you to it”

“To what?” Your eyes sparkled with amusement, casting a glance around the empty bar.

Hunter chuckled a little at the realisation, clearing his throat, “Right, sorry”

“Come on” You grinned, grabbing a bottle from a few years back off of the shelf, as well as two glasses. You held them up as you moved from behind the bar, heading outside, “Have a drink with me?”

Hunter smiled, following behind you, “Sure, why not”

The customers that were here when you got back had since left, so it was just the two of you when you sat down at the table outside. It was quiet as you set down the wine glasses on the table, and poured a sensible amount for both of you. You swirled the deep red liquid in the glass and took a sip, smiling as the different notes hit your taste buds.

Hunter watched you with interest, inspecting the way you enjoyed the drink. He took a small sip from his own glass and swallowed thickly to get it down his throat.

“So” You began, crossing one leg over the other as you looked to the clone across from you, “What's been going on since I was away?”

Hunter began going over everything he could think of that happened, which didn't end up being too much. Pabu was peaceful, nothing catastrophic ever really happened, not counting the sea surge that you still jokingly blamed the bad batch for bringing with them. He recounted how Omega had been doing more flying, and that she was pretty much better than him, Wrecker and Crosshair combined by now. He talked about his brothers so fondly, and you loved to listen to it. The way his mouth curled at the edges as if he was trying to surpress it, the creases at the edges of his eyes giving it away. It was clear to you how much he cared for them all, how he still felt responsible for them, and it always warmed your heart.

“And you? How have you been?” You asked, a knowing smile playing on your lips.

He chuckled breathily, “Yeah I'm fine”

“Just fine?” You arched an eyebrow at him subtly.

“Good, then. I don't know” He shrugged with a small smile.

You shook your head a little. You had told him before that he thinks of himself far too little, so you knew he knew what you were getting at.

“Sorry, I've just been rambling on, what about you? How were your travels?”

A sigh escaped your lips before you gave it permission, “Fine, as always”

Hunter knew you didn't like leaving. You had once drunkenly regaled him with all of the worst tales of your travels, an unfortunate memory your mind replayed often at night when sleep eluded you.

“Did something happen?” He asked.

“No, I'd just rather not have to do it”

“Why do you? Couldn't you get someone else to do it?”

“I wouldn't want to subject anyone else to it, and besides, I've gotta pay the bills somehow” You said with a tight smile.

“I'm sure Shep wouldn't mind helping out in some way” He suggested, but you shook your head forcefully.

“I've already taken too much from the people of Pabu”

Hunter could see the guilt written on your face as plain as day. He wished he could reach out and ease the crease that formed in your brow whenever you were reminded of how much had been given to you in your time on Pabu. You found it hard to accept help, Hunter had learnt that the hard way, but he could never find the right words to express just how much he felt you deserved. He would give you the galaxy if it was his to give, but that was far to obscene to just say in passing.

“It's fine” You blinked a few times, “The time I do get to spend here makes up for it”

Hunter offered you a sympathetic smile, “Omega misses you a lot when you leave”

You chuckled, “That sentence alone makes me want to never leave again”

Hunter huffed a small laugh, understanding completely what you meant. He, along with everyone else, had a hard time saying no to the small blonde clone. The only person he had seen handle saying no to her well, was you.

After a moment of silence, he spoke what was on his mind.

“I miss you when you leave too”

You just took a sip of wine and tried not to react in any sort of way, but that was always more difficult around Hunter, who could sense just about anything, any changes in your body.

“Yeah, I- I miss you too, all of you” You tried to act casually about it. Hunter smiled kindly and your eyes flicked away briefly.

“You not enjoying this one?” You asked, pointing to his almost untouched glass of wine

“Uh…” He scratched his neck, “To be honest, I don't really like any wine” He said cautiously and your mouth dropped open, “Sorry”

“You don't need to apologise, but… Hunter you've been coming here for the better part of a year, and you don't even like any of the drinks we sell?”

“Well… I wasn't really coming for the drinks” He said with a small smile stretching across his face.

You just looked at him puzzled, but he waited for you to figure it out, “I-” You frowned deeply, looking at him and trying to understand, “I'm confused”

He chuckled at your cluelessness, “I only come to see you”

“Oh” You said quietly, almost dumbfounded.

“Yeah, you're either always working, or away, so… I have to take what I can get”

You suddenly felt alive inside.

“I… I would have hung out with you if you had asked”

Hunter cocked his head slightly, looking vaguely amused, “I did ask”

“Well, I didn't know you were serious” You said, your cheeks heating up a little.

“I'm always serious” He replied, earning a laugh from you.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek for a moment, just watching him, and him watching you. He raised an eyebrow slightly as if to ask what was going on in your head. Truthfully, you didn't know.

You then stood up quickly, “Let's get out of here”

“What?”

“There's no one here anyway, let's go to the beach” You said, drinking the remainder of your wine and grabbing the other glass and bottle.

“What's at the beach?”

You shrugged with a grin, “I guess we'll find out”

You're body felt like it had been electrified as Hunter helped you take the tables inside, and your hands were almost shaking as you locked the door. You never did anything spontaneous, especially not nowadays, and the prospect of taking the evening as it came felt exhilarating. You were positively buzzing, maybe from the wine, but mainly from the nervous energy bubbling up inside of you.

Hunter could sense it. It was the strangest sensation, it's like your insides were trying to escape you, pent up with fizzing electricity, like static.

“Race you there?” You smirked up at him, and quickly ran off in the direction of the beach.

Hunter let out a surprised laugh, and for a moment just watched you sprint away from him, his smile taking over his face. He darted after you as you rounded the corner, not necessarily caring to beat you there, but just to engage in your sudden spontaneity.

The wind was whipping at your face, sending your hair flying behind you as you winded around the cobbled streets. You hadn't felt so free, so youthful, in such a long time, and it was nice to indulge in such a feeling.

When you reached the beach, you slipped off your shoes and sunk your toes into the sand. The sensation was strange but familiar, something you hadn't done for years. The sun had fully sunk beneath the horizon now, and the moon was shining proudly, casting a gentle blue light over the waves.

Hunter came to stand beside you, an intrigued smirk curling the edge of his lips. You looked up him, and couldn't help but mirror his expression. He could see the glimmer of mischief in your eyes and waited for whatever idea you had to unfold in front of him. Though, he was wholly unprepared when you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off.

“Woah!” He stepped back slightly, “Uh… What are you doing?”

“Going swimming” You said simply, unbuttoning your trousers and tugging them down.

Hunter's mind was reeling. One minute you were standing next to him, looking up at him innocently, and now here you were, walking away from him in only your underwear. He couldn't help but let his mouth hang open a little.

You turned to look at him from the edge of the water, “Are you coming?”

The moonlight illuminated the edges of your silhouette, your smirk undeniable even in the low light. Hunter was frozen, the sight in front of him making him breathless. As you turned your body towards him, hands on your hips with your brow arched questioningly, he gulped.

He didn't say anything, but he slowly reached back and took off his shirt. He didn't take his eyes off of you as he unbuttoned his trousers and left them in a crumpled pile with the rest of the discarded clothes. You bit your lip a little, turning back to the ocean and stepping into the water.

It was freezing, and you shivered violently, a small gasp escaping your lips. You waded in, getting used to the temperature, until the water came up to your mid-thigh. You heard a hiss as Hunter followed you in, and looked back at him, a genuine smile on your face.

“How are you in that far? It's kriffing freezing” He grumbled, moving away from the shoreline.

You laughed at him, “What's that? The big bad Sergeant can't handle a little cold water?”

The teasing look on your face was enough to make his knees fold in on themselves, but he kept a calm exterior as he shook his head and stepped into the water again.

“I'm not so bad, am I?” He said in reply to your mocking remark, finally reaching your position.

“Hm” You hummed, arms crossed over your chest, “That remains to be seen”

Hunter's eyebrows raised slightly, looking down at your teasing expression with a smirk. The longer he looked at you like that, the more you cracked, your confident streak fizzling out. He could feel your heart beating faster each second, and saw the light dusting of a blush across your cheeks, and his smirk faded into a more sincere smile.

“Come on” You nodded your head out to sea, “There's a place I want to show you”

You then dove into the water, submerging yourself completely. You broke the surface after a few moments, swimming out into seemingly - to Hunter - the open ocean. After a minute, you got to the rock that jutted out just above the water level, and hauled yourself onto it. Hunter followed after you, reluctantly at first as the freezing water chilled him to his bones, but seeing you sat atop the rock, body glistening in the moonlight, he soon forgot all about the temperature of the water.

Watching Hunter pull himself out of the water was unlike anything you had ever gazed upon. The moon cast a light on the drops of water that ran down his toned body, making it glitter, and highlighting every muscle as it moved to push himself to sit next to you. His hair was pulled down by the weight of the water, the pieces around his face falling over his eyes so that he had to push them away.

You couldn't look away. He was gorgeous.

His chest was heaving as his eyes found yours, both of you out of breath from swimming. The air between you felt different, charged with unspoken feelings that were quickly becoming apparent. Hunter's gaze was serious, a small crease in his brow as he looked at you.

“I don't want you to leave again” He admitted quietly.

You sighed, tearing your eyes away from him. There wasn’t really anything you could say.

“I don't want to either” You confessed, your shoulders slightly slumped.

“Then don't” He urged, and you tilted your head back to him. He looked at you with such longing, his eyes slightly wide and swimming with emotion. He reached out and gently placed his hand on your cheek, “Stay with me”

Your breath caught in your throat, “I can't promise something like that Hunter”

“Why not?” He asked softly.

“I-” You began, but hesitated when Hunter brought your face closer to his.

“Why not?” He asked again, looking so deeply into your eyes that he could be looking at your very soul.

“I- I don't know” You stuttered out, mesmerised by his gaze.

Hunter smirked, “Exactly”

He then immediately pulled away and slid back into the water, swimming towards shore faster than you could possibly keep up with.

“Hey!” You shouted after him, entering the water once more and racing after him. He stood in the shallows as you approached him, but before you could ask what that was all about, he scooped you up into his arms. His hands found themselves under your thighs and he pulled your body towards his, making you let out a small squeal at the sudden and unexpected closeness.

“You're going to stay here, on Pabu. I'm going to make you” He claimed.

“You're going to make me? How do you intend to do that?” You asked with a smile, feeling giddy from his words and the feel of his strong arms holding up your almost bare body.

“Like this” He mumbled before his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was passionate, so much more so than you were expecting. It was a perfect climax to the tension that had been building all evening, possibly all year, finally bursting and dissipating. His lips moved against yours with an urgency, his plea for you to stay echoed by his actions. He held you close to him, one arm snaking around to your back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You deepened the kiss, your hand finding itself lightly tugging on his hair at the base of his scalp. He groaned quietly as he devoured your mouth, his teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip. After a short while, you broke away to catch your breath, the kiss feeling like it had taken your very lungs away.

“Well, that was certainly convincing” You grinned, pulling a laugh from Hunter.

He pressed his forehead into yours, his gaze becoming more serious, “If I do it again, will you stay?”

You sighed slightly, but the look in his eyes made you feel like everything in the galaxy was right, exactly how things were right now, with you in his arms. It made you feel alive, and the intense urge to finally do something self-indulgent brought your answer from you.

“Yes” You replied in a whisper, “I'll stay”

His hands gripped you tightly as he brought his lips to yours again, and you completely lost yourself in the sensation.

The feel of his body against yours, his lips on yours, his tongue on yours, were enough to make you want to stay forever. You could figure out the problems this would bring later, but for now, you were eager to get a taste of what the rest of your life could feel like.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Tears In His Ferrari - 11

Character: Bucky Barnes x Farmer!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, used to a life of luxury, takes on farm challenges in a bet with his father. Mud-stained Ferraris and a rustic farmhouse lead to unexpected personal growth, guided by the stern mentorship of Y/N, a farmer making his city-boy life difficult.

Theme: Fluff, Slice of Life, Heart-Warming.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on: Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2,Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 , Chp 8 , Chp 9 , Chp 10, Chp 11 , Chp 12.

Bucky then found himself inundated with tags from numerous people: “#SaveBuckyFromY/N”, “KateBucky4ever”, and more.

Feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the online scrutiny, especially since he hadn’t even established a relationship with Kate, Bucky realized the weight of social media speculation.

"Bucky-" as Y/N began to speak, Bucky sensed the tension building within her. Before she could ask him anything, her phone rang, interrupting their conversation.

Reacting swiftly, Bucky urged, “Wait, don’t pick up the phone.”

However, it was too late.

“Hello?” Y/N answered, her expression turning serious as she engaged in the call.

Moments later, she visibly struggled to maintain her balance and leaned heavily against the nearby table. Reacting instinctively, Bucky hurried to her side, offering his support.

Guiding her to sit down, Bucky observed a vulnerability in Y/N that he hadn’t witnessed before, despite their months of companionship.

Letting out a weary sigh, Y/N confessed, “This thing still chases me wherever I go.”

Concern etched across his features, Bucky inquired softly, “Is it true?”

Y/N met his gaze and nodded solemnly. “Do you want to know why I disliked you the first time we met?”

Bucky attempted to lighten the mood with a jest, “You did? I didn’t notice.”

Y/N smiled stiffly, her expression betraying a mix of emotions. “You reminded me of my old self. Selfish and childish.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed in confusion. The Y/N he knew appeared aloof, but beneath her exterior, she always extended a helping hand whenever someone needed it.

“You?” Bucky exclaimed, genuinely surprised.

Y/N nodded, her gaze distant as she recounted her past. “I used to despise farm life. So, I ran away to the city.”

“No way,” Bucky responded, struggling to reconcile this revelation with the Y/N he knew.

“I took on any job I could find to survive,” Y/N continued. “Eventually, I landed a position in a small restaurant. The owner took me under his wing and taught me everything I know. After a year, he recommended me for a chef position on a cruise ship.”

“That’s where you met Paul?” Bucky interjected, connecting the dots.

Y/N nodded, a faint smile playing on her lips. “We were the youngest chefs on board, constantly underestimated by our senior colleagues. But we worked tirelessly to prove ourselves.”

Her smile faded as she delved deeper into her story. “Who would have thought that Paul was actually the son of the ship’s owner?”

Bucky nodded in understanding. Kate came from a wealthy family, and while he knew her mother, he was unaware of her father’s identity.

“Paul asked me to join him in opening a restaurant,” Y/N continued, her voice tinged with reminiscence. “I became his sous-chef.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in concern as he processed Y/N’s words. “Starlight restaurant?”

Y/N simply nodded in confirmation.

“Wow,” Bucky remarked, impressed. “It’s notoriously difficult to secure a reservation there.”

Y/N’s expression shifted, her eyes clouded with memories. “The restaurant was successful, but I grew exhausted and burned out,” she explained. “I couldn’t handle it, especially with Paul’s gambling addiction.”

The restaurant had flourished financially, but much of the income had been drained to cover Paul’s debts, leaving Y/N drained and depressed.

“So, I quit and returned to working on cruise ships,” she continued a tinge of regret in her voice. But even that decision proved a mistake, as she became increasingly depleted and devoid of the passion for cooking that once drove her.

Then came the fateful night of the accident. Paul, inebriated and reckless, had implored Y/N to drive him home. Despite her protests and her inability to operate the sports car, Paul had insisted.

The car veered off course, crashing into a tree. While Paul had sustained injuries, they hadn’t affected his culinary skills. It soon became apparent that the accident had been staged—a ploy for Paul to evade responsibility and declare bankruptcy for the restaurant.

Disgusted by Paul’s deceit, Y/N had returned home—a place she had once fled in search of escape. But upon her return, she realized just how much she had missed it. It was then that she resolved to stay and make amends as a dutiful daughter.

Bucky listened attentively, a mix of empathy and understanding in his gaze. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he reassured her sincerely.

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a blend of surprise and gratitude. “You don’t know how much I needed to hear those words. I never expected to hear them from you.”

“Hey…” Bucky’s soft and comforting voice offered solace amid Y/N’s turmoil.

As their faces drew closer, a palpable tension crackled in the air, igniting a silent conversation between them. Y/N’s heart raced in anticipation, her mind swirling with the possibility of what might transpire between them. Is this really happening? she wondered, her breath catching in her throat as she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable.

But just as their lips hovered tantalizingly close, the spell was abruptly shattered by the intrusion of Samantha’s voice.

“Baby, are you okay?”

Startled, Bucky and Y/N quickly recoiled, putting a respectful distance between them as Samantha entered the room. The moment was lost, replaced by a wave of awkwardness that washed over them both.

Samantha’s eyes flickered over the scene, a discerning glint in her gaze. She approached her daughter, her expression a mix of concern and determination. “Don’t worry, baby,” she assured Y/N, her voice laced with unwavering resolve. “Mom will handle this. Nothing this skinny person said is true.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed in confusion and apprehension. “What are you going to do?” she inquired, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she awaited her mother’s response.

******

Kate, thoroughly enjoying her followers' flattering tweets and comments, lounged back in her chair with a satisfied smirk. "Hehehe."

Meanwhile, her assistant, feeling a bit groggy, couldn’t seem to sit still.

"Stop fidgeting," Kate commanded, her tone impatient as she continued scrolling through her phone.

"But she didn’t do anything wrong," her assistant pointed out, a hint of sympathy in their voice.

Rolling her eyes dismissively, Kate waved off the comment. She was too engrossed in the online attention to entertain any doubts or second thoughts.

However, her focus was abruptly interrupted by the ringing of her phone. She glanced at the caller ID and saw it was her estranged brother, Paul.

Kate's trembling fingers hesitated before accepting the call, her long, manicured nails glinting in the dim light as she whispered a tentative "Hi."

The voice on the other end was cold and devoid of any warmth one might expect from siblings. "Keep my name out of this," Paul commanded, his tone sharp and unforgiving.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Kate watched as the call abruptly ended. It was a brief exchange, leaving her feeling pale and unsettled.

Despite being siblings, Kate and Paul had grown apart over the years, their relationship strained by their parent's divorce and Paul's withdrawal from social interactions following the accident.

As Kate tried to process the call, she was startled by a commotion from her rented house. Peeking cautiously through the curtains, she saw a sight that sent shockwaves through her. Quickly retreating from the window, she cowered in the safety of the shadows, her mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

"Get the car keys," she ordered her assistant, her voice tinged with urgency.

"What's going on?" her assistant pressed, confusion evident in their tone.

"Stop asking! Just do it!" Kate snapped, her patience wearing thin.

With a resigned sigh, her assistant rolled their eyes but complied with her request.

Peeking anxiously from behind the curtain, Kate's heart sank at the sight that greeted her. A crowd had gathered outside, wielding fiery torches and brandishing pitchforks.

It resembled a scene from a medieval village, and Kate couldn't shake the feeling that she was the target of their ire.

Voices clamored outside, demanding her presence. "Come out, come out! Where is the person who just slandered my daughter's name?" one voice shouted.

"Right. Come out and talk," another added, the tone laced with hostility.

Kate trembled with fear, her mind racing with panic.

"You want to go now?" her assistant asked, their concern palpable.

"Now!" Kate insisted, her voice quivering with anxiety.

As she hurriedly exited town, Kate swore to herself that she would never return. The events of that night had left her shaken to the core, and she had no intention of ever crossing paths with Bucky or anyone else from the town again.

********

Kate's message sat unread in Bucky's inbox, a stark reminder of her betrayal. He felt a pang of guilt as he reflected on how things had unfolded.

If he had been firmer in asking Kate to leave, Y/N wouldn't have been subjected to such humiliation.

Despite the turmoil, Bucky resolved to carry on with his daily routine. Tending to the crops and livestock provided a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos of recent events.

During lunchtime, he decided to visit Toby and his grandparents. As he arrived at the farmhouse, nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to encounter.

Join the taglist? 🩷💙🩷

@bagoffeelings

@darkofimagination

@starsofcloud

@cherrybubblebullet

@winterslove1917

@thezombieprostitute

@namoreno

@sagebarness

@tenaciousathleteoperatorgarden

@unaxv

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@hopeful-daydreaming

@freshlemontea

@eat-limes-bitches

@kandis-mom

@scott-loki-barnes

@winters1917

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@arunabraganza

@ordelixx

@jackiehollanderr

@regics

@pigeonmama

@charmedbysarge

@mostlymarvelgirl

@calwitch

Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[goosewriting]

Across the Galaxy and Beyond

summary: some time after the Mantis crew split apart, Cal has an unexpected reunion with reader on Koboh

relationship: Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for Jedi Survivor, vague-ish mention of events from the Battle Scars book but i don't think it counts as a spoiler, hurt & comfort, flashbacks, kissing

word count: 8.9k 👀💧 ...i am unwell about this man what can i say

A/N: started writing this when i first started jedi survivor, and finally got around to finishing it now that i finished reading battle scars and the cal kestis brainworms are attacking me again. story doesn't follow the game exactly. also this could be read as a separate story from my wherever you go, i go trilogy, but i like to think it's the same reader and timeline lol so go read that if you haven't c:

Navigation: Part 1 (you’re here!) | Part 2 (wip)

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — — Part 1: Just like old times

After Cal's escape from Coruscant, the Mantis was pretty shredded. The main problem was the gyro, but upon entering Koboh's atmosphere, all systems started failing and the Jedi had to make an emergency landing somewhere on some cliffs. 

It took a lot of climbing and wall-jumping and fighting the aggressive local fauna, but after a couple of hours, Cal and BD finally made it to the outpost where Greez' cantina was located. On the way there he also encountered bandits who called themselves the Bedlam Raiders, as well as old Separatists battleships and battle droids, of all things. Just what has Greez got himself into?, Cal thinks to himself after saving a local from Rayvis, the leader of the Raiders, and outing himself as a Jedi in the process.

When Cal and BD finally enter Pyloon's Saloon, they meet with Greez. Since the Raiders have just been at the saloon (and the place doesn't look all too inviting either), there are no customers, so Cal and Greez catch up at the bar. The Latero is extremely happy to see the boy and his droid in one piece after all this time. Over a drink, the redhead tells him about the last job on Coruscant gone wrong, how only two of them made it out. He expresses his frustration, how the Empire is only growing stronger and everything he does feels pointless. Things haven't been easy since the Mantis crew split up. 

After catching up a little, Greez tells Cal that he has some spare parts and will take care of the ship. He'll send someone to bring the ship to the landing dock behind the saloon. In the meantime, he should take a breather and explore the outpost. Cal doesn't like feeling like he's wasting time, but with the state the Mantis is in, there really isn't much else he can do. 

The Latero shows him the room in the basement, telling Cal he can stay as long as he needs. Greez wasn't kidding when he said he had a room just for Cal: there was a meditation area in the middle of the round room, and even his old clothes and some unfinished tech projects were all stashed away in a big chest. 

They both sit down on the edge of the bed, and it doesn't take long for the conversation to take a direction Cal doesn't like. Not because what Greez is saying is wrong; on the contrary, he's probably right, but the redhead doesn't want to hear it. Not right now. Greez, in a genuinely concerned tone, goes on about how the game is rigged and Cal should walk away while he can, maybe even settle down somewhere. Cal lashes out for a moment, claiming someone has to keep fighting.

— — —

You approach the stable in the outpost riding on your nekko, humming a happy tune to yourself. You're lost in thought, letting your trusty mount walk the last stretch to the stalls by himself, as he knew the way. Once you reach the structure, you get off and start putting away your haul; you just came from a successful hunt. You'd skin and prepare everything later though, so you pack the preys away in special boxes where everything would be preserved for a couple of days. 

“Hello master,” a robotic yet chirpy voice greets you. 

You turn around with a smile, facing the Separatist battle droid you had found and reprogrammed to help you out at the stable.

“Hey there, Connor,” you greet back. You've told him several times not to call you that, but he insisted, saying you saved him and now his purpose was to serve you. You take a moment to inspect his blue and black markings that have started chipping more noticeably; maybe it's time for a new paint job.

“Did I miss anything while I was gone?” you ask, taking the saddle off your nekko and placing it onto the designated wooden beam. 

“Yes, in fact,” Connor replies, placing new food and clean water in the trough. “There's a ship on the landing pad behind the saloon that I've never seen before.”

“Is that so? What kinda ship?” 

“A modified S-161 Stinger, and it's pretty busted up. I'm surprised it even made it this far.”

You stop in your tracks, your grip tightening around the halter you just took off the nekko, which is now happily munching away on its fresh feed.

“Interesting,” you remark, putting the rest of the equipment away and turning around to face the droid. Since you spent most of the day down in some caves, you didn't see or hear anything. “Do you know who was on board?”

“I didn't see who came off the ship, but I overheard some prospectors talk about a newcomer that went one on one with Rayvis,” Connor comments, then leans in closer to you, looking around as if to make sure no one would be listening in on your conversations, when it's clearly just the two of you at the stable. “I also heard Turgle mentioning a Jedi being seen around here.”

“Huh,” is all you manage to say, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. There was no way he was here, right? After all this time? As far as you know, he doesn't even know you're here. So if it is him, he isn't here to see you, but Greez instead. It's probably because of the Mantis; Cal is in need of repairs. This thought immediately replaces the initial anticipation with a strange, cold feeling. 

“Can you believe it?” Connor goes on. “I've never even seen a Jedi. I would love to meet them.”

You take a long look at the droid, remembering the state you had found him in. He had never been in the war, actually. He spent several years in an abandoned Separatist camp, never even getting to be activated. So he only knew his programming: serve the Separatists, fight the clones and kill the Jedi. Yet he had never lived any of it. Reprogramming him had been easy in that regard, as his memory banks were mostly blank. Back then you were looking for a droid companion to help you out at the stables, and even though you know what battle droids mean to the Jedi, you can't help but think that they are kinda cute. The B1 models, at least. The B2 series and commandos are pretty scary. 

So you gave your new friend a name (you couldn't decide between Hank and Connor, but decided to go with the latter as it somehow suited his demeanour better) and a new purpose in life, and he seems content with that. The only fighting program you left in him is for defending the stable and nekkos. First and foremost it is his mission that they are not harmed. You also ordered him not to leave the outpost, for his own safety. You don't want the raiders to find him and get access to his memory bank. They would use the information against all of you at the outpost, and either scrap him or reprogram him to join the raiders. Once they were dealt with, however, you promised Connor you would take him around Koboh first, then show him the galaxy. 

“I'm going to the saloon,” you announce. “Can you take care of the rest?” 

“Roger roger!” Connor replies with a salute, getting to work. 

You find yourself smoothing out your clothes and hair as you make the short trip to the saloon. When you reach the bar you're met with Monk, the witty bartender droid. He greets you with a happy tone and some strange phrase that you don't entirely understand, as he always does. You ask for Greez, and he points towards the door to the side, saying he's in the basement with some old friend of his that just dropped by.

With a gulp and a forced smile, you thank him and head down the stairs. The urge to turn on your heel and run away grows with every step. As you're about to reach the door, you hear voices coming from the other side.

“-to be something more than a lightsaber.” That's Greez, you think. He sounds… sad? “Think of yourself. Settle down, find a home.”

“What home, Greez?” You swear your heart actually stops beating and accelerates at the same time when you hear the voice, his voice. “There is no home. Home was the Order. It was my teacher.”

You've stopped a couple steps away from the door so it wouldn't open and have you interrupt the conversation, but you involuntarily lean forward to hear better what Cal says next.

“It was everyone I lost… Home was the Mantis with you, Cere, Merrin, and–”

The automatic door whooshes open and Cal and Greez turn their heads towards you as they stand up from the bed they were sitting on. 

“I- I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you sheepishly state after a moment of uncomfortable silence from everyone, approaching him but staying at a distance. “Hey, Cal. It's been a while.”

“Yeah, it has,” he retorts, and you can't really read the tone of his voice. 

You look each other up and down, taking in how different you both look since… Since the last time you saw each other. Since you split up. 

A thousand thoughts go through your head, and a thousand different feelings resurface, making your heart tighten in your chest, like there isn't enough space for everything it's trying to process.

Greez can't take the tension anymore, so he clears his throat loudly.

“Lemme show you something, Cal,” the Latero says as he walks towards a panel on the far side of the room. He presses a couple of buttons and a section of the wall slides open with a creak, revealing a path behind it. “This is an old smuggler's tunnel, you'll find spare parts in there. Just… be careful, I have a pest problem.”

With that, Greez walks by both of you, giving your arm an encouraging pat, before leaving the room. It's just you and Cal now.

“Spare parts?” you ask, trying to make some conversation. “For the Mantis, I take it?”

“Yeah,” Cal replies, looking at the tunnel entrance but not moving from where he stands. “Gyro's fried.”

You two stand there in silence, and you want to smack yourself in the face. You feel like an awkward 12-year-old all over again, not knowing how to talk to your cr– You stop your train of thought before you dare finish that sentence and potentially embarrass yourself further. The heat on your cheeks that refuses to leave your face since you've laid eyes on the Jedi can't possibly have gone unnoticed by him.

“You know, Greez has had this room set up for you for quite a while,” you tell Cal, shooting him a quick smile. “So I take it you'll be staying for a while, right? The Mantis isn't going anywhere.”

Cal shrugs and shoots you a quick, unsure glance, then casts his eyes back down, scratching the back of his neck. 

“I was just about to head out,” you lie. Your plan for the evening was to have a drink at the bar and unwind, but him being here changes everything. “You could join me and I'll show you around if you'd like…”

Cal looks at the tunnel again, weighing the options in his mind. One is going down there to fix the Mantis as soon as possible, then taking off to who knows where. The other… you're not so sure. And if you're being honest with yourself, you're too scared to ask.

“Sure, why not,” he finally agrees with a sigh and starts walking towards the door that directly leads outside from the basement, but you feel like something, or rather someone, is missing. You look around the room, scanning your surroundings for a certain droid, then turn back to Cal.

“W-Where's BD?” you ask, fearing the worst. You'd really hate it if something happened to him.

“Oh, he wandered off somewhere earlier,” Cal says and you release a breath of relief. After calling for him, the little droid comes hopping down the stairs and into the room.

“BD!” you greet the little companion, and he excitedly beeps at your reunion. He comes running towards you and you pick him up in a hug.

“Oh, how I've missed you,” you spin him around a couple of times, then set him back down onto the floor. “I have a droid of my own now, but you're still the cutest. Don't tell him, though,” you add with a wink. 

“You have a droid?” Cal asks as BD climbs onto his back and you all make your way out.

“Yeah, he helps me out at the stable,” you explain, pointing at the building as you reach the end of the stairs. The stable is practically behind the saloon. From these stairs it's a very short trek to reach the paddocks.

“Those are nekkos, right?” Cal questions, approaching the fence and looking at the two animals chilling in the sun. “I met Mosey earlier. She said she worked at the stable,” he turns around to look at you. “But she didn't mention you.”

You're about to retort by saying she couldn't have possibly known that you two knew each other, but you're interrupted by a chirpy voice.

“Master! You're back already?” 

At the sound of the familiar robotic voice, Cal instinctively draws his lightsaber, and turns towards the side entrance to the stable. You hurry to get between your droid and the Jedi; you don't want to see Connor get sliced today. Not by him. Said droid peeks out from behind the archway, and BD beeps repeatedly, alarmed. 

“Wait!” you exclaim, holding your hands up into the air defensively. “That's my droid!” 

“Your- Your droid?” Cal repeats, clearly confused. He puts away his weapon nonetheless.

“He's reprogrammed, and he's never even been in the war,” you explain, walking backwards as Cal starts approaching the stable to inspect the battle droid further, with you still between them. “He was never even activated. He's good, I promise!” 

“Master, who's this?” Connor asks, walking back into the stable to make room for Cal and you. “Is he bothering you?” The droid activates the blaster you had built into one of his arms, and Cal's hand goes to the hilt of his sabre again, while BD beeps in exasperation. 

“No, stand down!” you order, and the blaster immediately turns off with a whirr. “Will everyone please calm down?”

Still standing between Cal and the battle droid, you let out a huff, looking from one to the other. 

“Cal, BD; this is Connor, my droid,” you start introducing them. “My good and reprogrammed droid, whose mission is to protect the stable and the nekkos, nothing more.”

Cal seems unimpressed, still looking at Connor with narrowed eyes. You turn to the droid.

“Connor; these are Cal and BD,” you start. “And you know what? Cal here–” You look at Connor with raised brows and lower your voice. “–is a Jedi.”

Connor brings his hands up to where his mouth would be, gasping in surprise. 

“You- You are?” he asks, quickly going around you to take Cal's hand and shaking it vigorously. “It's such an honour! I've always wanted to meet a Jedi!”

“So you could get up all close and stab me in the back?” Cal retorts, his voice laced with uncharacteristic venom, and pulls his hand from the droid's grasp.

“What? No, I–” Connor starts but you push him to the side a bit.

“It's okay, Connor. He'll warm up to you, eventually,” you comfort him. “Please go get the nekkos ready for us?” 

You've never heard a sadder 'roger roger' in your life and it sends a sting of pain through your chest. 

While the droid goes to prepare your mounts, you turn around to Cal and frown at him. He crosses his arms in front of his chest defensively. 

“Why would you say something like that? He's genuinely excited to meet you,” you explain. “When was the last time someone was actually happy to see a Jedi, hm?”

“Not a battle droid, that's for sure,” Cal retorts with a huff. 

You look up at him for a moment, holding his rather cold gaze. You wonder just what happened these past few years that had him like this. Sure, you understand why he isn't a fan of battle droids. Normally you aren't either. But there's just something about Cal that's… different. He looks older, but it might just be the beard. He also looks more tired, carries himself differently. With confidence like he always did, but also in a “don't mess with me” way that wasn't there before. Gone is the spark in his eyes, that glimmer of optimism and hope, replaced by the promise of not holding back if anyone were to cross him. 

For several moments, you just look at each other, and you're sure he's analysing you just as you are him, and you wonder what is going through his head. 

“The nekkos are ready,” Connor announces, leading both of them out of their respective stalls by the reins. 

You allow the animals to sniff Cal and inspect him, while you give a short explanation on how to ride and guide them. Cal's mount is white with a dark face and legs, while yours is a dark purple and brown. After thanking Connor and waving him goodbye, you both hop onto the saddle and head out of the outpost. You know your way around, taking a route that would keep you hidden from the patrols, both the imperial ones as well as the raiders. You'd much rather deal with the local fauna. And you do come across a couple of rawkas at the river, and a pack of gorgers when heading further up the Southern Reach. But you two make quick work of them.

In fact, Cal has grown stronger, and not only that, but he also has a new array of weapons it seems; now he double-wields his lightsabers, and he also has a blaster, which completely takes you by surprise. 

Once you reach the base of the big silo, you get off your nekkos and climb the rest by foot, getting on top of the structure and sitting at the edge. It's not a super well-hidden spot; if the patrols under you decide to look up they would definitely see you, but it's a good vantage point to show Cal the different places. You point towards the landmarks, explaining them to him so he can orient himself and navigate beyond the outpost. You tell him about the caverns, the mines, to look out for different patrols and what areas to avoid; be it because of the raiders, like fort Kha'lin, or because of bigger fauna like bilemaws, goroccos and mogus. Especially mogus. They are fierce.

Once you're done with your explanation, you lean back onto your hands with a sigh. Cal attentively listened to everything, but he doesn't seem interested in keeping the conversation going, as he hasn't said anything.

He's looking out, scanning this corner of Koboh as far as he could see from here, taking in the view and probably trying to commit to memory everything you've said. You look at him from the corner of your eyes, your gaze falling onto the holster on his hip.

“So,” you try starting the conversation again. “You now double-wield and you have a blaster. Which, by the way, is pretty uncharacteristic for a Jedi, no?”

“A lot has changed, I guess,” is all you get out of him.

“Do you have any other new tricks?” you ask, and the memory of him re-discovering his Master's lessons after his escape from Bracca comes back to you, making you smile fondly to yourself for a moment. 

“Hmm,” Cal thinks aloud, also leaning back and finally tearing his eyes from the landscape to look at you. “There aren't any new Force-tricks, if that's what you mean. But I do have this.”

He brings one of his arms up, showing you the contraption on his brace.

“Grappling hook. Comes in pretty handy,” he explains, showing you some of the mechanisms. Your hands reach up to gently hold his wrist, so you can inspect the device better, and you could have sworn you heard his breath hitch at the contact. At that moment, you realise that's the first physical interaction you've had since he arrived, and you quickly let go. 

“We should head back,” you say as you stand up, dusting off your legs. “It will get dark soon, plus you must be hungry. I know I am.”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Cal replies, getting up to his feet as well, and BD beeps in agreement.

Cal climbs down the silo first, while you scan the area one last time for any patrols. When it's your turn, just as you're almost at the base of the rather unstable ladder, your foot slips and you lose your balance. You hold onto the next best thing, which happens to be Cal. Seeing you're about to fall, his arm reaches around you and he pulls you towards him while with the other hand he tightly holds onto the railing that goes along the walls of the structure. 

“You okay?” he asks, and when you look up at him this time, you're finally met with a pair of eyes that you recognise. There's concern in his gaze but also a certain warmth, amused at how you were a fierce warrior yet managed to be clumsy in small things like these. He found it cute, which you knew for a fact because he would tell you often, back then…

“Y-Yeah, thanks,” you mutter, separating yourself from him now that you're back safe on the ground. Feeling the heat spreading on your face, you can't help a sheepish smile. “Guess some things never change, heh.”

“Guess not,” Cal says with a small smile of his own, and your chest tightens at the sight. 

The ride back to the Outpost is silent, and you wonder if his body is also reacting as strongly as yours; ever since slipping, your skin feels like it's tingling, and your heart hasn't calmed down in the slightest. 

Once you're back at the stable and the nekkos have been taken care of, Connor mentions that Greez left some food for you, and hands you several small containers wrapped with a cloth. 

“You wanna eat at my place?” you find yourself asking Cal, who's scratching behind the nekko's ear. He turns around to you with raised eyebrows in what you assume to be a surprised expression, but he's quick to relax his face back to normal. 

“I have a room behind Doma's shop,” you explain, holding up the food in your hands and you gesture to it with your chin. “And Greez knows this is far too much food for myself.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Cal replies, calling BD back to him, who was scanning some stable equipment. “Let me help you with that.”

Cal takes the food off your hands, and you say your goodbyes to Connor, who stays at the stable. It's a quick trip past the saloon's entrance into Doma's shop. She's behind the counter organising some of her merchandise, and returns your “hello” from afar without looking. Only when she hears Cal's greeting does she turn around. She shoots you a look and you know exactly what she means, heat prickling again at your cheeks. You give a curt shake of your head, quickening the pace to evade Doma's questioning, heading for the door at the back that leads to the place you have been calling home for the last year. 

It isn't much, but it makes do: one big room, that's both kitchen and a living space, with two doors at the far side that lead to a small bedroom and the refresher. The main room is decorated, you like to think it's warm, cosy and inviting. You even managed to thrift an old couch somewhere, refurbished it yourself, and it now essentially serves as the centrepiece of the room. There are several rugs on the floor, as well as piles of pelts and leather in the corner that you still have to finish working on so you could sell them. These days that's your main source of income.

Cal stands at the door for a moment, taking everything in, and you suddenly feel very self-conscious. The space is clean, but the fact that you can't read his face makes you a little nervous. To distract yourself, you take the food from him, bringing it to the kitchen counter.

“I think the food is still warm,” you say as you start opening the containers, the delicious smell filling both your noses. “Do you mind setting the table?”

Cal and you make quick work of getting everything plated and grabbing some drinks, then sitting down in front of each other at the wooden table to eat. You make some light conversation between bites, catching each other up on what has been going on in your lives recently. He tells you about some of the missions he's been on ever since the Mantis crew split up, and you tell him of your own solo adventures before you came to Koboh. 

When the plates are empty, your bellies full, and the conversation is about to die down, you ask if you can check out Cal's lightsabre. He unclips it from his belt to hand it to you, and you catch yourself being relieved at the fact he still trusts you enough to just give his sacred weapon to you without further inquiry. 

He's changed some parts and the materials, and you hold the device in your hands with the utmost care, admiring the beautiful design and intricate markings on the wooden accents. Rather suddenly, a feeling of regret and shame spreads out in your chest, thinking about how not only this sabre but also Cal himself went through so many changes, and you hadn't been there for any of it. There's so much you want to tell him, about how sad you are that you weren't there for him, about how sorry you are with the way you left, about how you've been thinking of and missing him every single day. But telling him that wouldn't be fair. You have no right to be selfish like that.

“So what exactly happened that got the Mantis in such a state?” you decide to ask instead, reaching the lightsabre over the table to give it back. Cal takes it with a deep sigh, putting it back to his belt, feeling immediately comforted by its familiar weight. 

“A job on Coruscant that went… wrong,” he starts, telling you how his team was gathering intel for Saw Guerrera, and it had all worked out until the very last moment, where everything went wrong, and he lost his whole crew in an instant. Only him and another person made it out of there. In fact, one of his crew members saved his life by pushing him out of the way and taking the blaster shot herself instead. 

You listen intently, and your heart grows heavier by the second; you can hear the frustration in his voice, the voice of a man who's this close to giving up entirely, because he's just so tired, but he can't. He won't. You know Cal took it upon himself to fight the Empire by himself if he has to. A trait you genuinely admire but also despise. After all, that was one of the reasons you left.

Then he mentions the Ninth Sister, and your attention is fully back to what he's saying. 

“I tried to get through to her, I really did,” Cal says, his voice cracking for a second. “But she wouldn't let up. I had no choice.”

“Did you…?” you ask carefully.

“I killed her,” he says matter-of-factly, but you can tell it's been eating away at him.

“I'm so sorry, Cal,” you offer, reaching across the table and placing your hand on his. “That couldn't have been easy. I'm sorry you had to go through that.”

He doesn't meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on his half empty cup instead, watching the drops of condensation slowly fall along the outside of the glass onto the table, staining the wood. But he doesn't pull away either, so you give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You look exhausted,” you finally tell him, and he lets out a breath through his nose, as if saying 'you have no idea'. You offer for him to take a shower here instead of at the saloon before heading back, telling him yours is nicer, to which he chuckles lightly, and he accepts. 

He insists you take a shower first while he takes care of the dishes, so you do just that. Once you're out, it's his turn. You hand him a towel and a change of clean clothes, and you can tell he wonders why you have them in his size, until he realises that they're actually his. It's an old shirt and lounge pants that you would always steal from him and had apparently taken with you. He doesn't comment on it though, instead he simply stares at the clothes in his hand for maybe a second too long, deep in thought. Then he blinks a couple of times, as if he just came back from zoning out, gives you a short 'thanks' and gets into the shower. 

While he cleans up, you take a seat on the couch, pulling up the novel you're currently reading on your holopad. Only now that you're sitting with your legs stretched out along the length of the cushions do you realise how tired you are, both physically and emotionally. Out of everything you could have thought would happen today, meeting Cal was certainly not on the list. Still, you can't deny that you're happy to see him. For starters, he's still alive. And you've missed him, much more than you care to admit to yourself. 

After reading the same sentence of your book over and over, failing to focus, you sigh and look at BD instead, who hops onto the coffee table and tilts his head at you with an inquiring beep. 

“Has he been taking care of himself?” you ask the droid, pointing over your shoulder in the direction of the refresher, where you can hear the water running.

BD lets out a sequence of beeps and boops, and you narrow your eyes at him for a moment. 'He keeps himself busy' he said. Is he dodging your question?

“Is that so,” you reply with a hum, and BD shoots the question right back at you. You're a bit surprised at his concern, and for a moment you consider opening up to the little droid, but you hear the water turn off, so you bring your attention back to your book again instead, trying your darndest to focus on what's happening in the story. The washroom door opens with a whoosh.

“Where should I put the towel?” Cal asks, still standing at the door frame. 

“Just put it in the hamper underneath the sink,” you reply over your shoulder, and in the corner of your eye you can see BD still looking at you, waiting for an answer. Then he tilts his head with an amused boop; he's got you all figured out. 

“Oh shush you,” you start scolding the little droid, but Cal appears, walking around the couch to sit down. Except that your legs are stretched across it, so you start lifting them off the cushions and intend to bend them at the knee to sit properly, but Cal gently grabs your ankles, lifting them off the couch to sit down, and places them over his lap instead. His hand comes to rest on your shin, and you can feel the warmth he irradiates seep through the fabric of your pants. 

“You looked comfy,” he points out, his hand gently rubbing up and down below your knee, while with his other hand he props up his head against the back of the couch. 

You swallow hard, unable to answer, and bring the datapad up to your face to hide behind it. Why is he being so nice suddenly? Is it because you aren't outside where others could see? Or is it because he realised he still has you wrapped around his finger so he's just teasing you? You're beyond confused at the sudden sign of affection after he's been so distant the whole day, like he hadn't planned on ever seeing you again. And to be quite honest, you deserve the cold treatment. After what you did, the way you left. 

Feeling the sting behind your eyes, knowing what's coming, you shrink further into yourself, holding the holopad even closer to your face to hide it from Cal's view. He can't see your expression from where he's sitting, so he gives a light chuckle, thinking you're just flustered. The sound feels like a dagger in your gut, and you unsuccessfully choke back sob.

Now Cal's face changes completely to one of concern, and he pushes the pad out of the way only to be met with your crying face. 

“Whoa, wait-“ Cal says, and he retrieves his hands, holding them both up in surrender. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I thought we-“

“I'm so sorry, Cal,” you croak, crying freely now, as you let go of the device and it falls onto the floor with a 'clunk'. “I'm so sorry for everything, for what I did. For leaving you alone.” Your hands wipe away at your cheeks in a vain attempt to dry off the tears, but they just keep coming. 

After the crew split up, the Mantis felt unbearably empty. After the failed mission on Hosnian Prime, after saying goodbye to Fret and Irei, who had definitely changed the dynamics of the crew (you still weren't sure if it had been for better or worse), everything felt like it started falling apart. 

The first to leave was Merrin, saying she needed to recentre her fire and find herself again, to be able to draw all the power she now knew she was able to use. 

Then, it was Cere and Greez. The Latero trusted Cal and left his beloved ship in his hands, telling him to look after it until he'd be back. Except everyone knew that he didn't really intend to. The loss of his arm had hit him harder than he wanted to admit, and for Greez it had been the wake-up call needed to “leave the game while you can because it's been rigged since the start”, as he would often say. Cere on the other hand took off with new-found determination. Her and Cal's goals weren't all that different: the endgame was to defeat the Empire, one way or another. However, Cal believed in taking action now, while Cere had her sights set on the future, being able to help those who would come next, long after she and everyone else were gone. She wanted to build a legacy, as the 'Jedi's knowledge was far too valuable to be lost to time and circumstance. 

After everyone was gone, it was just Cal, BD and you. 

The Jedi had become irritable, like he had already convinced himself that you would leave him soon too, as did everyone, apparently. You reassured him to the best of your abilities that you believed in what he stood for and wanted to stay by his side. However, now that you didn't have a whole crew to count on, you had to be more careful than ever.

“We have to be smart about this!” you'd plead, seeing Cal running head-first into danger time and time again. 

When the nightmares became too much, you'd hold him tightly, kissing his tears away as he'd cry out for his master, Tapal.

“You were just a kid!” you had yelled at Cal one time, when what was supposed to be a quick run-down of the plan had become a big argument. “You act as if the whole universe is counting on you and only you to defeat the beast that is the Empire. Do you think that that's your destiny? As dictated by the Force? We've had our share of big, successful missions as a group. Now it's time to back down, Cal. We're just two people, what do you expect we'll achieve here? It's time to move on.”

Needless to say, those words had not calmed Cal down in the slightest. Now he felt just as betrayed by you as he did by the rest. More words were thrown at each other like daggers finally let free after being pushed back for far too long in an attempt to keep some level of normalcy between you two. But there was no going back. So you did what you told him as well: you moved on. That same evening, you packed your things and left. 

Your heart bled and tears kept streaking down your face with every heavy step you took away from the Mantis, but at the time, you didn't know what else to do. You'd never wanted to leave Cal, and you hated yourself for doing this to him and to yourself, but what you had going on was no way to live anymore. Maybe, hopefully, now that you were gone, he would understand that. 

You know it had been a horrible thing to do, especially like that. After years of telling him how you'd follow him to the end of the world. After telling him every day how much you loved him. After promising you'd be there for him. The worst part was that being away from him was far more painful than it was with him. He left a void in your heart that only he could fill. You meant to go looking for him many times, but were too scared. You didn't deserve to have him back. Not after what you did.

But now he's here.

Between cries, you apologise over and over again, saying how what you did wasn't fair, that you wished you had never left and worked it out instead, that you missed him so much it was hard to breathe. 

Cal doesn't answer immediately, and you force your somewhat blurry gaze up to meet his eyes, and you see he's starting to tear up himself. He leans forward, lifting you up and settling you sideways onto his lap, enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug. You hold him just as tightly, crying into his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” The more you say it, the emptier it feels, but it's all you can manage for now, and you mean it. “I really am.”

“I know,” Cal says, squeezing you a little tighter. “I felt it. When you gave me the clothes earlier.”

You remember the countless nights you've cried yourself to sleep in the very clothes he's now wearing, the times when you missed him so much you felt like your heart would rip its way right out of your chest, muttering your regrets into your pillow, as if it could carry your apology and bring it to Cal somehow. You groan in embarrassment; you always forget that your stuff also carries imprints he can feel.

“I'm so lame,” you mumble and pull back to look at Cal, giving him a weak smile that quickly turns into a grimace again as a new wave of tears come rolling down your cheeks.

“No, you're not,” Cal reassures you, one hand cupping your face and wiping over your cheekbone with his thumb. You lean into his touch with a sniffle.

“I've missed you too,” he finally says, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “And I'm sorry—” He kisses your cheek. “—for making you feel like you were less important than the missions.” A kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You're the best thing that ever happened to me and I took you for granted.” His lips brush over yours. “Can we try again?”

You close the minimal gap and kiss him hard, like Cal was the air your lungs needed after being underwater for too long. He reciprocates just as intensely, pushing you down onto the couch and climbing on top of you. When he finally breaks the kiss, you're both panting. You run your fingers through his hair as he trails kisses along your jaw, and you giggle at how ticklish his beard feels against your skin; that's a new sensation you'd have to – no scratch that, want to – get used to. Your giggles turn into a low moan as he bites the spot over your collarbone, and when you turn your head to give him better access, you're met with BD still on the coffee table, now sitting comfortably, looking up at you two as if it was the most interesting spectacle in the world. 

A strangled sound of surprise and embarrassment comes from your throat and you push Cal away a bit by his shoulders, to which he raises his head and grumbles in annoyance for interrupting him.

“We have an audience,” you whine, hiding your face behind your hands, and Cal lets out an amused laugh. BD beeps matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean 'don't mind me'?!” You turn to the droid and you swear that if he had a face, he'd be wearing the cockiest of grins right now. 

“Some things really never change, huh,” Cal comments with an amused smile, thinking back to all the times you'd become flustered when you kissed in front of BD, saying it was inappropriate or something. If only you knew that Cal often did it on purpose because he loved seeing your cute, flustered face.

“Unlike this right here,” you point out and bring your hands to his face, stroking over his beard, enjoying the prickly sensation. “This is new.”

“Do you like it?” Cal asks genuinely.

“You know I like your scars,” you say, tracing over the one on his lower lip. “As long as they're not covered up, I think I can get used to it. It does look good on you.”

Cal smiles down at you tenderly and for a few moments, you simply enjoy each other's presence, taking each other in. Making sure that this is real and it's happening, that you're back again. Until you let out a hearty yawn. 

“Let's get to bed before we fall asleep on the couch,” you say, rubbing your face, but stop to look up at Cal, who seems very content with his current position and hasn't moved yet. “You are staying here tonight, right? I mean, if you want to, you don't have to. Greez has the whole room thing for you, so I understand if—“

Cal interrupts your rambling with a quick peck. 

“Yeah, I want to stay,” he assures you and finally stands up, helping you get off the couch. 

“Let's go, BD,” you tell the droid to join you as you take Cal's hand and guide them to the bedroom. 

You climb into bed, BD at your feet as he would always do on the Mantis, and Cal lifts the covers to get in as well but stops for a moment when he sees the holopicture on your night stand. In the small frame he recognises Greez, Cere, Merrin, Cal, BD and you in the cockpit, all grinning at the camera. Smiling to himself, he finally gets into bed, hugging you to him.

“I have the same picture of us on the Mantis,” he says after letting out a content sigh at finding a comfortable position. “Guess we still were connected somehow all this time.”

You hum in response, a bit surprised at the romantic implication, as if you were lovers who found comfort in looking at the same moon even though you were separated. But you like the idea nonetheless, and you agree. 

The warmth both on your skin and spreading in your heart makes quick work of carrying you off to dreamland though, so before you can even give a proper reply, you're fast asleep in Cal's arms.

— — —

The next morning, you wake up to BD's beeping. You groan, turning over to cuddle a little longer, except that the other side of your bed is empty. You blink away the sleepiness in your eyes, and pout at the lack of Jedi in your sheets. Your nose is quick to pick up the scent of freshly brewed caf however, and the grogginess is quickly forgotten as you get out of bed and make your way to the kitchen, where Cal is preparing breakfast. 

After a quick meal and lots of stolen kisses, Cal announces it's time to go check out Greez's smuggler tunnel to find that gyro. 

“Be careful,” is the last thing you tell him before he leaves. 

“Always,” he shoots back at you with a wink and takes off. You playfully roll your eyes at that, thinking back to the countless times on the Mantis you've had to patch him up after a mission inevitably went astray from the original plan.

While Cal is looking for parts for the Mantis, you go back to your own things, checking in on Connor and the nekkos at the stable, as well as preparing some pelts and sewing up your most recent leather project. 

Time goes by fast as you skilfully work the needle and thread through the thick material, finishing the piece after a couple of hours. Setting it aside, you stretch your arms and back with a satisfied grunt. You check to see if your comms are working; they are, but there's no new messages. Strange, you think, Cal sure is taking his time to find that gyro. Is he not back yet? 

Suddenly feeling uneasy by your own thoughts of how he might have got lost in the tunnels, or how he may have encountered trouble down there, you decide to go check with Greez yourself. 

You quickly make your way to the Saloon, going down the stairs that lead to the bar with such speed that when you reach the end and see someone standing there, you bump into them before you can stop yourself. 

“Whoa,” a deep voice exclaims at the impact, and you push yourself away from the man's back you just ran into. He turns around slightly towards you. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, didn't see you there” you reply, regaining your composure and walking around him to get a better look. 

He's not super tall, but he has a strong and broad build. Although you already felt that when you bumped into him and it was like walking into a wall. You give him a quick up-and-down, trying to gauge if he's friend or foe, but you can't quite read him. He narrows his eyes at you ever so slightly, probably doing the same.

“A new face, how rare,” you start, walking over to the bar and leaning on it with one arm. Your other hand finds its way to your hip, where you realise there is no holster or weapon; you mentally reprimand yourself for leaving your staff at the stable. 

“Care for a drink?” asks Monk from behind you. 

“No, I'm looking for someone,” the man says. 

“Of course you are,” Monk replies with sarcasm. You give the bartender droid a nod; you'll take care of this. As he wheels back into the kitchen, you hear him mutter something about how his bar isn't a lost and found counter. Before the stranger can go on however, the doors at the back of the saloon whoosh open.

“Who's this?” asks Greez as he enters the main room.

“I was just about to ask him,” you reply, your eyes still trained on the man.

“I'm looking for Cal Kestis,” the man in question says instead, and your hand on the bar involuntarily curls into a fist.

“Who? Kal Restis?” Greez asks as he approaches him. “We don't know any Kales. Listen, if you're not gonna order something, get out of my saloon.”

“No, not Kale”, the man says, getting slightly exasperated as he repeats the name slower, and Greez keeps getting it wrong on purpose. 

Just as you're about to intervene and send the man away, the entrance doors open and in comes Cal, a soft smile of self-satisfaction on his face. 

“Cal!” The man greets the Jedi. You hear Greez mutter “Oh, this Cal Kestis” under his breath as they clearly recognise each other.  

“I found the gyro,” Cal announces first, throwing a small mechanical part to Greez, who's taken by surprise but still catches it. Then he turns to the intruder with a smile. “You made it!”

“Good to see you, Cal,” he replies, and the two share a friendly handshake.

“Greez Dritus, this is Bode Akuna,” Call starts introductions, telling this Bode your name as well. You merely give him a short nod in acknowledgment as Cal continues. “He was on Coruscant. Wouldn't have made it out alive without his help.”

Oh, that changes things. 

You leave your spot at the bar and drop your rather cold gaze to join the group. Coming to stand next to Cal, you take his hand, and try your best to give Bode a thankful smile. He returns it, quickly catching on. 

“Wait a minute. Another one?” Greez quips, looking behind Cal. You were so focused on Bode, that you hadn't even noticed the strange looking droid that came in with the redhead. “Cal, you have a very bad habit of picking up strays.”

“I am ZN-A4,” the droid introduces herself with an exaggerated bow. The design and material she’s made of is something you’ve never seen before. “Humble servant of the Jedi Order.”

What.

“Oh, I take it you haven't broken the news yet,” Bode says to Cal, who sheepishly shrugs his shoulders. 

Cal then brings everyone up to speed, telling you how when he was in the tunnels with BD, they stumbled upon this old chamber where the droid was stuck, so they freed her. Turns out she's a droid that belonged to a Jedi from the High Republic, of all things. Her master, Sandari, had sent her to activate the so-called forest array (that strange building the other side of the river that doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the scenery; you've always wondered what it was but never found a way to get in). However, Zee, as everyone started calling the droid, is in really bad shape, and she'll never make it that far. She looks dejected as she says that if she fails her mission, then the key to Tanalorr may be lost forever. 

At the mention of the name, Greez chimes in, telling the group that there's an old prospector legend about Tanalorr being a world filled with treasure. But treasure or not, the important part is that it seems to be a real place, one potentially beyond where the Empire can reach: a safe haven. 

Zee is delighted and very thankful that everyone seems on board with her mission, and the group is quick to formulate a plan: while Monk gets her up to speed regarding the state of, well, everything, and she gets some much-needed repairs, Bode and Greez will take care of the Mantis. Meanwhile, Cal, BD and you will go to the forest array to check it out. 

As you're making your way to the stables, you nudge into Cal's side with your elbow.

“You didn't get hurt down there or anything, right? You sure took your time,” you ask him. It did not go unnoticed by you how in Cal's retelling of events, he skilfully left out how he happened to find that mysterious chamber in the first place. 

“The tunnels were pretty old and unstable, but we're okay,” Cal deflects, shooting the droid a quick look. “Right BD?”

BD beeps in response, and you shoot Cal a glare accompanied by a muted gasp, stopping in your tracks.

“You fell through a hole the equivalent of several stories?!” You can't believe this guy. 

“It's fine!” Cal tries to reassure you, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. “I promise, it's nothing a stim didn't already fix. So there’s no need to worry, okay? We have a job to do.”

You sigh in defeat as he places a soft kiss on your forehead. You first cup his face softly, then pinch both his cheeks.

“Just what am I going to do with you, Cal Kestis?” you ask rhetorically, taking his hand into yours and resuming the short trek to where Connor is already waiting and waving at you both. 

Once you're all geared up and hop into the saddle, you tighten the strap of your staff, adjusting its position on your back.

“Just like old times, huh?” you ask at no one in particular, scanning your surroundings and taking in the scenery; it just never gets old. Cal's nekko trots up next to you.

“Just like old times,” he repeats, with that boyish smile you can't get enough of, and the glint of adventure in his eyes. 

Your nekkos take off, and the freckles on his face seem to shine in the sunlight. They form the ever familiar star map that you'd follow time and time again, finding your way back to him. Because from the first time you looked at him, you knew: you'd follow this man across the galaxy and beyond.

— — —

A/N 2: if you understand the droid name reference you get a cookie 🍪

A/N 3: in the book Battle Scars there’s a part where BD tells Cal, and i quote, “Where you go, I go”, and when i tell you that i screamed omg (the first part of my “wherever you go, i go” fic was actually called ‘where’ but i changed it to ‘wherever’ when i added more chapters because to me it sounded better asdsdf) BD-1 and me sharing one brain cell obsessed with Cal fr😌

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover

[unclewaynemunson]

It was winter '86 when Nancy found out what it felt like to return to your hometown after having moved away. She had managed to skip Thanksgiving, giving her mother some vague excuse about needing to study for her midterms, but there was no way she could get out of Christmas. So here she was, wrapped in a thick coat and matching scarf, finding herself back on the very streets she had wanted so desperately to leave behind.

Moving to Boston had been a liberation for her. It had been the only way to break free from everything that happened over the past three years. Life had become normal again: she had made friends, gone to parties, taken interesting classes... She had finally been able to breathe fresh air again.

It wasn't like everything was magically alright all of a sudden, of course. She still slept with a gun beside her bed – praying that her roommate Jess would never find out about that – and she wondered if the pain of not having Barb to share all these new experiences with would ever fade away. But she was doing better. The pain wasn't as sharp anymore, far away from the streets that did nothing but remind her.

Now, it was the day before Christmas Eve and she was walking around town, with no aim but to flee from her mother's stress about needing everything about the upcoming days to be perfect.

It felt weird, walking these familiar streets again after having been away. She felt like an intruder in what once used to be her town, a place she had left behind for a reason. She still knew every road, every building, she still had memories waiting for her at every corner... But those streets weren't hers anymore.

All of these memories were about Barb. Barb, who would never get out of Hawkins. Barb, whose skeleton was decaying in the dark and twisted version of her town, right underneath the pavement Nancy was walking on. Barb, who had a gravestone with her name on it while another girl was now growing up in the room in the house that had once been hers. These streets would always stay Barb's. It was a narrative that was finished, a book that had reached its ending, and Nancy was forcing it to stay open by merely walking here.

The streets were quiet: as cold and dark as they were supposed to be on the night before Christmas Eve. Lights were twinkling in the houses Nancy passed, and on the few occasions she did cross paths with someone else, she'd always think – just for a second – that it was Barb, still sixteen and risen from her early grave to haunt her.

Wherever she went, she found shadows that only she could see, darker than they were supposed to be. She saw the shadow of their lemonade stand on the corner of Barb's street. She saw the silhouettes of two little girls with pigtails in their hair cycling hand-in-hand towards the middle school building. She saw them giggling on their way to the swimming pool, looking at store windows on Main Street after they got their first pocket money, walking out of the library with big piles of books in their arms; she saw Barb waiting for her at the community center after Nancy's ballet practice, and she saw herself on the way to Barb's to walk Bobby the dog with her. She saw two shadows on the playground, gossiping on top of the jungle gym that was shaped like a pirate ship; two shadows on their way to the pumpkin patch on the edge of town; two shadows playing tag in the woods... Two shadows leading her exactly to the last place they'd been together, where the walls of a big house were stained with Nancy's mistakes on that fateful warm November night in '83. The place where the two shadows had stopped being interlinked; where one of them had wanted other things than the other and they each went their own separate way. Where they got ripped apart from each other for good.

Nancy just stood there, unmoving and hidden away by the shadows of the evening, staring at the stones of Steve Harrington's house with no intention of going in and saying hi. She had no idea how much time passed until the door opened and a girl stepped outside.

For a moment, Nancy genuinely believed that her mere gaze had managed to summon Barb out of the swimming pool that was her grave, to finally become something far more horrifying than a shadow. It was a moment long enough to make her lose her guard and stumble forward over the pavement.

“Nance?”

It was Robin. The girl who stepped out of the house was Robin Buckley. Tall, freckled face, blue eyes... But that was all the resemblance she had to Barb

“What are you doing here?”

Nancy took a big breath and shrugged, trying to shake off the uncanny feeling.

“I was just taking a walk,” she said, trying to seem normal - or at least as normal as this situation would allow her.

Robin stared at her for a few seconds, a strange look in her eyes, as if she was trying to decipher some secret code written on Nancy's face.

Then, she nodded. “Okay,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “Wanna walk home with me? I was gonna bike, but I can call Steve when I get home and ask him to bring me my bike tomorrow.”

Nancy could easily admit that aimlessly roaming the empty streets of Hawkins with Robin by her side sounded much more appealing than all by herself, so she agreed and allowed Robin to distract her with easy conversation while they left the big houses of Loch Nora behind them.

The two of them had kept in touch, with Robin in college in Indianapolis and Nancy at Emerson. They wrote each other letters and called almost every week. And when Nancy had arrived in Hawkins a few days ago, being around Robin again had no doubt been one of the good things about being back.

The presence of Robin beside her reminded Nancy of all kinds of other memories laid out on those streets; ones that didn't include Barb. They passed the corner where she and Steve had once made out in his car, not long after they got back together at the end of '83. They passed the playground with the trampoline where she and Mike had spent countless afternoons launching a laughing baby Holly into the air. They passed the lunchroom where she and Fred would hang out together every time they had a newspaper deadline coming up. They passed the dirt road leading up to the Byers' house, where Jonathan had run after her that day they broke up to give her a hug and make sure they'd part as friends and not just as exes. And finally, they passed the edge of the woods where she and Robin had walked side-by-side and Robin had smiled at the ground, almost shy, when Nancy asked her if they were friends, officially. Nancy remembered that as clear as if it had happened yesterday: amidst all the horrors, the fear, and the looming threats on their lives, had been this genuine smile. It had given her yet another reason to keep trying to win that fight no matter how badly the odds were stacked against them. It had warmed something deep inside of her and made her realize that her problems with Jonathan were beyond trying to save.

Now, more than nine months later and with the feeling that she'd known Robin for much longer than that, Nancy looked to her right to find that same smile playing around Robin's lips, as if she was lost in the exact same memory as Nancy.

Barb would probably keep haunting the streets of Hawkins forever, never letting that uncanny feeling in Nancy's gut fade away whenever she'd visit her old hometown. Her ghost would make the fading pain flare up, sharp and fresh all over again. But this street right here, following the edge of the woods and leading into Robin's neighborhood, was untainted by memories of Barb. The two of them had no business ever going here – contrary to Robin.

Nancy breathed out and asked herself what Barb would want her to do right now.

She'd want you to heal, Nance, Robin once told her, months ago, when Nancy had finally found the courage to talk out loud about everything that happened.

So on this cold winter night, she stretched out her hand and grabbed Robin's. She could feel warmth through their gloves, sparking all the way through her arm and chest, right into her cheeks. Robin's smile deepened and she squeezed Nancy's fingers, not letting go until they reached her front door.

Maybe being back in Hawkins wasn't as bad as Nancy thought it would be.

Ronancetober day 8: uncanny. Inspired by the song These Streets by Bastille

[hllywdwhre]

Dreamer, Queen, Prince - Chapter 6

Pairing: Daemyra x fem!OC

Warnings: Please check masterlist for warnings. This work is 18+, MDNI

Masterlist

The next week was spent helping everybody leave the islands. Viserea watched as the last of the ships sailed away with the last of the Velaryon men on board. She felt Daemon’s hand rest on the small of her back and she looked up at him, unable to stop the smile that spread on her face as she saw him already looking down at her.

The two would spend the next year wherever they pleased. Daemon had promised to bring her to Essos to see the cities she had yet to visit and Viserea promised to show him Winterfell. She had warned him of the cold and snow, but he insisted on wanting to see it.

Daemon showed her all of the different cities he had visited before, spending weeks in a city at a time in each one. They showered each other in gifts and the attention they had never been able to show each other before. Letters were constantly exchanged with Rhaenyra and they both had a collection of gifts for her sent to Dragonstone.

Viserea had just finished reading one of Rhaenyra’s letters of her complaining of the men offering themselves to her on their last night in Pentos. They had spent almost two months there and were leaving for Winterfell in the morning where Viserea’s family had said they would gladly host the two of them and their dragons for as long as they wished to stay.

“She sounds miserable. I wish there was some way to help her or be there with her,” Viserea said, saddened at the entire situation. She wanted for Rhaenyra to be there with her and Daemon, for them to be able to explore the free cities together, for them to not have to go through the struggles they had to face in order to be together.

“Is my company not enough to entertain you?” Daemon asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. He placed a kiss on her cheek as he looked over the letter in Viserea’s hands. Viserea chuckled at his teasing comment,

“No, it is not. I need you and Rhaenyra to keep me completely entertained,” Viserea told him with a playful smile on her face, turning her head to look up at him.

“You shall have us both in a matter of time. I will make sure of it.”

Viserea knew his words were true. Daemon would go to the ends of the earth to make sure the three of them ended up together and would let nothing stand in his way.

Viserea wrote Rhaenyra a response, asking where she would be heading next and telling her that she and Daemon would be visiting Winterfell for a few weeks. Only after the letter was sent did she allow for Daemon to pull her to their bed.

The flight to Winterfell took two days, and it was dusk when they had landed outside of the gates. Rickon welcomed them both as family and informed them that strict orders had been given not to communicate to anyone outside of Winterfell that the two were visiting.

The two only spent a fortnight in Winterfell before a letter from Rhaenyra arrived.

“She’s leaving Storm’s End and finishing the tour,” Viserea said, shock clear in her voice, “She said she’ll be returning to King’s Landing in three days time.” Viserea turned her attention to Daemon, her hands shaking slightly as they held the letter.

They were stood in the main courtyard, only joined by Rickon and his son, Cregan. Cregan was practicing his archery with Rickon’s guidance and Daemon and Viserea stood a couple paces back.

Daemon gently took the letter from Viserea, reading over it multiple times,

“We must leave for Dragonstone immediately if we are to return to King’s Landing the same day as Rhaenyra,” Daemon said, a slight sense of urgency in his voice.

“And the dragon and the dire wolf will be joined in marriage again,” Rickon said, interrupting the two with a smile on his face.

“As the fates would have it,” Viserea replied and returned his smile.

Rickon gave both of them a hug, bidding them farewell and sending them both away with a set of warm furs and an extra set for Rhaenyra.

The departure happened in a blur and the two took off on dragonback, flying through the night until they reached Dragonstone.

Amarda was the first to greet Daemon and Viserys as they pushed through the doors of the ancient castle. Viserea threw herself into Amarda’s arms, having missed her greatly.

“So the rumors are true,” Amarda said as the two pulled away.

“What is being said?” Daemon questioned immediately, protectiveness in his tone.

“That the two Princesses are separate and that Princess Viserea had joined you in the Stepstones, only to travel with you once the war was won,” Amarda answered. Her tone was not accusing or disapproving and it was surprisingly gentle.

“Then the talk is true, for once,” Daemon confirmed.

“We are here to be wed,” Viserea said at the same time, feeling the look of unease Daemon gave her.

Viserea knew Amarda would not be the one to cast stones at them and she was proven right when Amarda smiled,

“And what of Princess Rhaenyra?” Amarda asked, an eyebrow raising out of curiosity.

Daemon and Viserea exchanged a glance, unsure how to answer her question.

“I see…” she said knowingly, “Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys will be reunited eventually. The histories can repeat themselves, but that does not mean they will carry the same details.”

“She will be wed to us,” Viserea said firmly.

“But for now, Maester Gerardys is needed to wed the two of you,” Amarda said, turning her back and guiding Viserea and Daemon to the library, where they were met with Maester Gerardys’ figure bent over a table as he studied a large book.

He looked up as the three entered and immediately stepped in front of the table, bowing slightly as he greeted the two of them,

“My Prince, my Princess, your return to Dragstone is a welcome surprise. How can I be of service to you?” He asked, looking between the two.

“We wish to be wed in the traditions of Old Valyria,” Daemon replied and the two of them watched as the Maester’s face turned to shock.

“We need it to be completed today, as we must depart for King’s Landing as soon as the sun rises,” Viserea said after Daemon.

“What of the King’s blessing?” Maester Gerardys asked, clearly taken aback by the sudden turn of events.

“It is not needed for a wedding of Old Valyria,” Viserea said, her voice firm and final.

“You misunderstand me, Princess. I will perform the ceremony as I’m sure Amarda will witness it, you must understand my confusion though,” he replied, a small smile on his face as he tried to show he was not arguing with performing the ceremony.

“I do, but this must be performed with the utmost quickness. Daemon and I need to be wed,” Viserea said, taking a step towards Maester Gerardys and gently taking one of her hands in his, “You are the only one who can perform the ceremony. Do us this, please?” She asked him in a quiet voice.

Maester Gerardys smiled a moment later and nodded,

“Of course, Princess. You and the Prince shall be wed today,” he said, causing a wide smile to break upon Viserea’s face.

A moment later Viserea and Daemon were pulled by various help to separate chambers. They were bathed, dressed in the Valyrian gowns, and Viserea’s hair was now in a low placed and intricate braid. They both wore the traditional headpieces of a Valryian wedding and being walked to a cliff side, their hands intertwined together.

Viserea barely felt the slice of the dragonglass against her lip, or heard the words of Maester Gerardys. Her’s and Daemon’s attention seemed to only be on each other as his thumb gently marked her forehead with a symbol in her own blood. She took the dragonglass from Daemon and sliced his own lip, marking his forehead with a symbol. Each took turns slicing a line down their palms, then joining their hands together.

“Hen lantoti nogar. Va syndroti vãedroma. Mēro perzot gihoti. Elēdroma iārza sir. Izult ampã perzi. Prumi lanti steksi. Hen jeny mäzilarion. Qélossa ozúndesi. Syndroro oño jedo. Ry kivia mazvestraksi.” Maester Gerardys’ words seemed to float in the air around them.

Daemon reached for the goblet with his free hand and raised it to his lips before Viserea took the goblet and did the same.

There was no hesitancy as Daemon leaned down to kiss Viserea. She felt their blood mix and felt no sting of the wound on her lip as the kiss grew deeper. Their sliced palms remained firmly in each other’s and the two only pulled away when a gust of sea breeze blew past them and they remembered they were not the only two standing on the cliff side.

The two, now married, spent the rest of the day enjoying the place they felt was their true home. That night, they were quick to finally unleash the tensions they had felt since the night on the Stepstones. This time, there was no stopping as Daemon’s hands pulled the fabric off of Viserea’s body.

When the two awoke the next morning, they found themselves entangled again under the cover of the sheets.

As the sun rose over the eastern horizon, they made their way to their dragons and took flight to King’s Landing. Daemon wore the crown gifted to him by Corlys as he was named King of the Stepstones, a fact which Daemon reminded Viserea of and pointed out that it meant she was now the Queen of the Stepstones.

When they flew over the water nearing King’s Landing, they spotted the ship carrying Rhaenyra and, much to Viserea’s dismay, Daemon guided Caraxes down and flew dangerously close to the ship, causing it to rock. Viserea kept a safe distance as the ship steadied and followed Daemon and Caraxes on Tessarion to the pit.

The arrival of both the Princesses and the Prince had sent King’s Landing into a frenzy, though Daemon and Viserea received a warm welcome at the dragonpit with many of the caretakers commenting on how happy the town dragons seemed to be currently.

Daemon and Viserea made their way the Keep, both of them ignoring the many whispers as they walked through the castle and the Throne Room.

Neither of them received any announcement of their presence as they walked through the door. Daemon had Dark Sister sheathed at his left side and his left hand held the Crabfeer’s hammer, the crown Corlys made for him still sitting on his head. Viserea walked to his right and when she went to fall a step behind him, his hand came to her back and made sure she stayed in step with him.

Viserea’s eyes flickered to Rhaenyra for the briefest of seconds, just long enough for Rhaenyra to know she had seen her.

When they approached the foot of the Iron Throne, swords were drawn, though this did not stop Daemon as he walked until the point of one was placed against the armor across his chest. His right hand remained on the small of Viserea’s back, though none of the guard dared point a blade to her.

“Add it to the chair,” Daemon said, holding up the hammer for a moment before letting it clatter to the floor.

A member of the Kingsgaurd picked up the hammer and placed his sword back by his side while Daemon’s hands moved so they were crossed in front of him. Viserea kept her head high and her hands by her side, looking every bit as regal as Daemon did relaxed.

“You wear a crown,” Viserys pointed out, “Do you also call yourself “King”?”

“Once we smashed the triarchy, they named me “King of the Narrow Sea”, with Viserea becoming “Queen of the Narrow Sea” yesterday,” Daemon said, causing the crowd to break into a murmur. Before Viserys could respond though, Daemon continued, “But we know there is only one true king and queen, Your Grace.”

Viserea copied Daemon as he knelt before Viserys, looking up at Viserys when Daemon spoke again while removing the crown from his head.

“My crown and the stepstones… are yours.”

“Well, where is Lord Corlys?” Viserys asked, though his voice held only a fraction of the strength it had held when they first walked through the doors.

“He sailed home to Driftmark,” Viserea replied.

“Who holds the Stepstones?”

“The tides, the crabs, and the 2,000 dead Triarchy corsairs, staked to the sand to warn those who might follow,” Daemon answered.

Viserea felt her breath hitch in her throat as Viserys descended the stairs of the Iron Throne and approached them, but she nor Daemon flinched as they looked up at him. Daemon offered. Viserys his crown and Viserea saw Daemno look to their side, her gaze following to land on Otto.

When Viserys handed the crown to the same member of the Kingsgaurd who picked up the Crabfeeder’s hammer and Viserea and Daemon both looked up at Viserys.

He could have their heads in a second. Viserea’s final words to Viserys the year previous was more than enough of a reason to kill her, and Daemon had a long list of reasons the King could kill him.

“Rise,” Viserys said, his voice low and gravely.

Both stood at the same time and Viserea felt relief wash over her as Viserys and Daemon hugged, only to be pulled into a hug by Viserys herself a moment later.

“The realm owes you a great debt, brother,” Viserys said as he released Viserea.

“One that is owed to Viserea as well,” Daemon said, causing Viserys to look towards her and nod.

“Come, both of you,” he said, guiding them both out of the Throne Room and to the Courtyard.

Before the space became crowded, Viserys stood in front of the two of them. His eyes flashed to the cuts on their lips, still fresh and a bright red, incapable of being hidden.

“As of yesterday, Viserea was made your Queen,” Viserys said, quoting Daemon’s earlier words as his eyes moving to stare at Daemon, his voice impassive as he waited on an explanation of some sort.

“Yes. We were wed in the traditions of our ancestors-“

“And what about your lady wife in the Vale?” Viserys interrupted, the anger beginning to seep into his voice.

“She died two weeks ago. I received the raven. She fell ill and the fever did not leave her,” Daemon explained.

“So you wed my daughter a fortnight later?” Viserys accused.

“It was my idea,” Viserea said, her voice seeming to remind Viserys that she was still there, “I apologize for not seeking your blessing, but it is what we both wanted.”

Viserys looked between the two for a long minute and, upon seeing that Viserea remained confident in her words, took them as the truth and sighed.

“I told you and Rhaenyra you could pick your own husbands. I apologize for not allowing you to accept Harwin Strong’s proposal, but I suppose I gave my blessing when I said you could choose your own husband,” he said, clearly not wanting to start another argument that ended with his family separated again.

“Thank you. Although not in the traditional order, your blessing is still a relief and honor to have,” Viserea replied.

As the two brothers began speaking of their childhoods, Viserea tuned them out, her eyes searching for Rhaenyra as each new person entered the courtyard. Alicent soon came to join them and the two exchanged enough words to be seen as civil and polite, but Daemon’s hand came to rest on the small of Viserea’s back and he pulled Viserea slightly closer to him.

Rhaenyra joined them at the end of a conversation about how Alyssa held no interest in tradition or customs and Rhaenyra chimed in,

“Congratulations on your victory, and on your marriage,” she said, smiling at them both.

When Viserys refused to look at Rhaenyra and only raised his goblet to his lips, Daemon spoke,

“Thank you, Princess.”

A long moment of silence followed that was broken by Alicent, offering to take Viserea and Daemon on a tour of the gallery to show them the new tapestries gifted by Norvos and Qohor. No matter her distaste for Alicent, Viserea felt sorry for her when her kind offer was made a joke of by Viserys as he laughed at the idea of Daemon having interest in them.

“I’d like to see them,” Rhaenyra said, her previous smile vanishing.

“Oh, well, then you should not deprive yourself,” Viserys said dismissively, causing Viserea’s anger to spike, though she kept her face blank.

“I shall enjoy them alone,” Rhaenyra replied, turning and walking away.

Daemon, Viserea, and Alicent’s eyes all followed her as she walked to a bench in the corner of the courtyard and Viserys began insisting that Daemon was always Alyssa’s favorite.

Alicent motioned for Viserea to follow as they both walked to Rhaenyra. Viserea allowed Alicent the seat next to Rhaenyra,

“I surmise the tour did not go well,” Alicent started.

“I endured it for as long as I could,” Rhaenyra said, glancing to Viserea as a small smile forced its way onto Viserea’s face as she remembered the many letters filled with Rhaenyra’s complaints.

“To have every young knight and lord in the Seven Kingdoms fawning over you…” Alicent started, looking to Rhaenyra with a joking smile on her face, “What misery.” Rhaenyra looked up to Alicent and Alicent continued on, “It is rare for girls in this realm to get a choice between two suitors, no less two score of them.”

“Those men and boys don’t fawn over me. They only want my name and my Valyrian blood for their offspring,” Rhaenyra argued.

“I think it’s rather romantic,” Alicent said, scooting closer to Rhaenyra and the two chuckled.

“How romantic it must be to get imprisoned in a castle and made to squeeze out heirs.”

Viserea could see it the moment the words left Rhaenyra’s mouth. She immediately regretted them and Alicent’s face fell, her lip trembling slightly. It was a harsh reminder that, while the two had felt betrayed by Alicent, Rhaenyra more so than Viserea, that Alicent had not had much of a choice in her marriage to Viserys either. She had the choice to go to him in his chambers the first night and to keep their visits a secret, but rejecting the King’s proposal could not be done. She was as much trapped in duty as they were, especially now.

Rhaenyra took Alicent’s hand in her own and Viserea didn’t stop herself as she moved to stand directly beside Alicent and place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“How angry is he?” Rhaenyra asked.

“The King went through great effort to arrange your tour. He is… frustrated. But I am glad you are home… both of you,” she said, throwing a glance to both Rhaenyra and Viserea as her voice filled with emotion and she dropped her head a moment later. “I find I have few friends lately. I like to believe I’m still the Lady Alicent, but… all anyone sees when they look at me now is “‘The Queen.’” She said with a sarcastic smile on her face.

Viserea gently squeezed Alicent’s shoulder and she couldn’t deny the empathy she felt for her. Although she and Viserea may not have been the great friends she and Rhaenyra had been, Alicent had still been someone Viserea viewed as someone who she could go to. This was not a thought Alicent could express to Viserys or Otto. Viserea and Rhaenyra had felt alone the past few years, but they had at least had each other. Alicent had been truly alone.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Rhaenyra said, taking Alicent’s hand in her own again as the two exchanged an emotional smile.

After a moment of silence, Alicent looked up at Viserea,

“Do tell us of your year spent with Daemon and the wedding. I was shocked when I heard Daemon say you were Queen of the Stepstones,” Alicent said, smiling up at her.

Viserea began explaining their time they had spent traveling, changing around some details to avoid revealing that most of it was planned so that she, Daemon, and Rhaenyra might be together one day. Viserea told Alicent of how she had visited many different places and how Daemon had met her family in Winterfell, and of how they had only been wed the day prior. She made it seem to be a coincidence that they arrived back the same day as Rhaenyra, telling Alicent that Viserea had convinced Daemon to go to Viserys and apologize and that now that she and him were married, it would hopefully mean Viserys would be more forgiving. She told Alicent that it had been Daemon’s idea to hand his crown over to Viserys, which it had been.

One by one, the courtyard cleared and Alicent eventually left with Viserys, leaving only Daemon, Rhaenyra, and Viserea in the courtyard.

“The two of you have traveled much in the last year,” Rhaenyra said, a slight tinge of jealousy clear in her voice.

“It was not the same without you,” Viserea said, the longing in her voice matching Rhaenyra’s jealousy.

“Soon, little dragons. Nothing will stop us,” Daemon promised, his hand going to pick up the necklace he had gifted Rhaenyra years ago. “For now, I crave the comforts of home.”

“I had not thought the two of you to be particularly comfortable in this home. Though I do suppose you seem changed by your adventures,” Rhaenyra said as she and Viserea followed Daemon to the table lined with food and drinks, “More mature, perhaps,” she added a moment later.

“I was surprised by the Princesses maturity a year ago, and you seem to have matured yourself the past four years, Princess. You’ll get used to the attention,” he promised, bring a smile to Rhaenyra’s face as she looked away from Viserea and Daemon’s gaze on her.

“The attention I can endure. It’s the rest I could do without,” Rhaenyra pointed out, looking between the both of them as she spoke, “My father seems content to sell me off to whichever lord has the biggest castle.”

“We will not let that happen,” Viserea said, luckily her words being covered by Daemon’s own response as there were still a few handmaidens standing outside beginning to clean up.

“There are worse things to be sold for,” Daemon covered, his hand on Viserea’s back as he guided them to sit on the bench on the opposite side of the table.

“He views marriage as only a political arrangement,” Viserea said, looking up at Rhaenyra as she leaned against the table.

“Once you are married, you can do as you like,” Daemon added. Rhaenyra and Viserea exchanged glances, knowing that it was the way it was for men, but never for women.

“For men marriage might be a political arrangement, but for women it can be a death sentence,” Rhaenyra argued.

“Would this it were, I would have been rid of my Bronze Bitch ages before I was.” Daemon offered Rhaenyra the goblet he was holding, which she accepted as she replied.

“Your wife was fortunate. Your new wife more so. You didn’t put a child in her, and if you do this one, it will be one you both want.”

Viserea could not stop the blush that rose to her cheeks at the mention of Daemon and Viserea’s child being one they would want, even if the conversation was far from a romantic one. Daemon looked at Viserea with a smirk on his face, taking her hand in his.

“I doubt a child could grow in such hostile environs. Something my new wife will not have an issue with,” Daemon said, causing both Rhaenyra and Viserea to let out short laughs at his insult, though neither laughs were their true ones.

Both Rhaenyra and Viserea still felt terrified at the idea of having children, as it was what caused the death of both of their mothers.

“My mother was made to produce heirs until it killed her. I will not subject myself to the same fate, and I hope she does not meet the same fate as her mother,” Rhaenyra said, motioning to Viserea.

Daemon reached for Viserea’s hand, holding it in a tight yet unpainful grip.

“What happened to both of your mother’s was a tragedy, but this is a tragic world. You cannot live your lives in fear, or you will forsake the best parts of it,” he said, his eyes trained on Rhaenyra as his thumb ran along Viserea’s hand.

“I have no desire to live in fear,” Rhaenyra said firmly, her eyebrows furrowed together, “Only solitude until I can have the two I want.”

Viserea stood, Daemon’s grip on her hand falling, and hugged Rhaenyra to her. To anyone else, it would look as if the two cousins were simply happy to be together again. They didn’t hear as Viserea whispered Valyrian words of promises they would be together and that nothing would stop them.

Once Viserea had sat back beside Daemon again, he spoke,

“Such a lonely prospect. One you should not endure for long.”

[cornfields-and-bad-dreams]

Applin of my Eye

Rating: General

Ship: Leon/Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Applin Confession, Oblivious Leon, Misunderstanding.

Summary: Since coming to terms with your feelings for Leon, you've tried to confess, but it hasn't gone so well. Now that Valentine's Day is just around the corner a second wave of motivation has hit you, and you think you have the perfect, FOOLPROOF, way of getting the point across. If only it were that simple.

Valentine's Day always made you feel a little bad, at least since you were thirteen or so.  Before that, it was just a fun day where you shared cards with your classmates, had a little class party, and got gifts from your parents.  Usually consisting of candy, a card, and some sorta stuffie.  Now it was just a brutal reminder that you were alone.

Usually, you wouldn’t really care, and if you did you’d try not to let it sting too badly.  But recently things had changed, for about a year and a half now you’d slowly been falling in love with one of your best friends, none other than Galar’s reigning champion Leon.  Your feelings had come to a head back in October, up until then you’d done well to ignore and suppress them, but throughout the month it just kept getting harder and harder.  Then, the party happened.  It was a costume party held by Nessa on Halloween night, Leon was going to be there, but you didn’t know what he was going to be.  When you finally saw his costume it left you unable to deny your feelings for him any longer.  The costume itself did a lot for you, but the fact it was on Leon?  The way it hugged his form, and sparked your imagination with fantasies and scenarios?  Well, that was just the icing on the cake.

You agonized over your feelings for a bit, having finally admitted to yourself that you were absolutely head over heels for the man, unsure of how to proceed.  At first, you were convinced that he wouldn’t return your affection, how could he?  In your eyes, he was a god amongst men, and you were a lowly mortal.  But, after a short bout of self-deprecation, you were finally able to come to the conclusion that you just needed to tell him how you felt, no matter the cost.

Easier said than done.

You’d tired, really you had.  But something always got in the way, whether it be your nerves winning out in the end, someone interrupting you just as you were about to confess, or something happening to pull either of your attention away from the conversation.  Eventually, the holiday season rolled around as well, leaving both you and Leon busy.  By the time things calmed down you’d honestly lost all the courage you’d once had, and once again your mind raced with negative what-ifs.  Your main concern being that if you did confess and he didn’t reciprocate, then your friendship would be ruined.  All though, it had also occurred to you that if he didn’t feel the same then you weren’t sure if you would even want to be friends anymore.

Your feelings were all over the place, the thought of not having Leon in your life, whether romantically or platonically, physically pained you.  But so did the idea of all the embarrassment and awkwardness that would come in the aftermath of professing your love for Leon just for him to hit you with “I think we should just be friends.”  Despite it being unideal, you found a sort of sad comfort in the sort of Schrodinger's Delcatty situation you were in.  If you didn’t tell him how you felt, Leon couldn’t reject you nor could he reciprocate, either way, you kept him in your life and things didn’t change.  Even if that change could be for the better.

Except, as Valentine’s Day drew nearer, you grew more restless.  TV ads, shop displays, and the general talk of the holiday you heard wherever you went were starting to get to you.  The thought of happy couples spending the day together hugging and kissing and just being in love?  It made you jealous, but more so, self-conscious.  So, for the first time in a while, you’d started thinking about confessing again.

And goddamnit, you almost did it.  You had gotten so close to just spitting it out, but that Arceus-forsaken lump in your throat reared its ugly fucking head again.  And when you were alone in the comfort of your own home, you cried, and it was ugly.

That was yesterday, the 12th, this morning you woke up to a text from Leon asking if you’d want to spend Valentine's Day with him and some others who were without dates this year.  Truth be told the idea of spending Valentine’s Day with him platonically hurt a lot more than the idea of spending it alone, but you could never turn down an offer to hang out with him.

‘Sure, what are we doing?’

He responded a moment later saying that you were all going to be hanging at Gordie’s for the day, watching TV/Movies, playing games, and whatever else might be suggested.  It sounded nice, and you quite enjoyed hanging out at Gordie’s, he had a bunch of cool stuff.  Sometimes the thought had crossed your mind that if you weren’t madly in love with Leon, you could just seduce Gordie to have permanent access to his things.  But that was just a joke, mostly.

After confirming a few more details with Leon you readied yourself for the day and headed out.  You tried not to think about your love problems too much, desperately attempting to distract yourself with battling and various other tasks.  Yet the thought nagged at you in the back of your mind.  By three o’clock your stomach started to growl rather prominently and you realized you hadn’t eaten anything in a while.  Making your way to one of your favorite restaurants you took a seat at one of the patio tables and waited for the waiter to take your order.  As you waited, you happened to tune into the conversation from the next table over.  A pair of boys, who you’d assume were somewhere in their late teens, were discussing Valentine’s Day.

“So, you’re planning on asking out Derrick?”

“Yeah, I figure doing it tomorrow would be romantic, right?”

“Definitely, but how are you gonna do it?  Any big plans?”

“I’m gonna give him an Applin, you know what they say about giving someone an Applin, right?”

“OH!  That’s a great idea man.  He’ll say yes for sure.”

You froze for a moment.  An Applin, why hadn’t you thought of that?  It would be easier to give Leon an Applin than it would to sputter out some nervous confession.  You smiled, plan in mind, as soon as you were done eating you’d head straight over to route 5 to catch the perfect little declaration of love.  Love, Loveballs?  LOVEBALLS!  You nearly jumped out of your seat as the thought raced to mind, you had a whole mess of Loveballs back home.  Honestly, you had a whole box full of random Pokeballs shoved in your closet, ones you had acquired through various means over time that you saw no real need for, until now.  Course, to use a Loveball you’d need to battle with your own Applin, but that was no problem for you and your precious little À la mode.  A Loveball would be perfect for this, maybe a bit extra, but it would certainly get the point across.  Something that could come in handy with Leon, you loved the man to bits, but he could be kinda dense at times.

Finishing up at the restaurant you hurried home to retrieve your Loveballs, stopped at the nearest Pokecenter to add À la mode to your team, and finally made your way to route 5.  Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you stepped into the tall grass and began your hunt for an Applin.

It took a bit to find one, and even longer to find a female one.  Yes, you knew that you could still catch a male one with the Loveball, hell you didn’t even technically need À la mode himself for the task, it just made the catch rate higher.  And seeing as Applin on route 5 were usually between Lvl. 16 and 18 it wouldn’t be too hard to catch with the regular catch rate of a Pokeball.  But if it hadn’t already been proven to both yourself and countless others, then this whole situation would be proof enough that your natural instinct in life is to make things way more complicated than they have to be, even if it was just for show or better yet, pride.

After about 2 hours you finally had a brand new Applin in a Loveball, you grinned ear to ear as you made your way home, excitement building in your chest.  Yet, by the time you passed through your front door, that excitement had turned to anxiety.  Sitting at your dining table you stared at the Loveball in front of you, your heart beat a bit faster than usual and your stomach was tied in knots.  Were you really gonna do this?  Were you actually gonna confess your feelings to Leon on Valentine’s Day?  This could end badly, just oh so badly, there was still time to back out.  You could release the Applin and pretend the whole dramatic idea had never crossed your mind.

No.

You were gonna stand your ground, you wouldn’t let your nerves get the better of you again.  Not this time.  Nodding to yourself you placed the Loveball on the small table next to your front door, ready for you when you left the next day.  The rest of the night consisted of you deciding on an outfit for tomorrow, cooking dinner, and relaxing the best you could until you went to bed.

Surprisingly you slept well, at least in the sense that you actually slept, normally your nerves would have kept you up all night.  But they did manifest in your dreams, one after another depicting various ways your love confession could go sour.  Finally rousing from your own mental torture you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and set to work getting ready.  When the time finally rolled around to head off for Gordies you halted a moment at the door, staring down at the Loveball you’d nestled amongst the fake decorative fruit you kept in a bowl.  Why you kept decorative fruit was a mystery even to yourself.  Groaning faintly you grabbed the Loveball and stuffed it in your bag, finally heading out for the day.

Hanging out with everyone at Gordie's was a blast, though throughout the day you kept trying to figure out when would be a good time to give Leon the Applin, you wanted it to be just the two of you, but couldn’t devise a good enough excuse to get him alone.  As the day was winding down, and talk of ending the “party” was brought up Leon commented that he needed to be heading out soon anyway, apparently, he was gonna be spending time with his family tomorrow and had planned on staying the night back home in Postwick.  You had a wonderful idea.

“Leon?”

You approached him near the door, where he was getting his shoes and jacket on.

“Yeah?”

He smiled at you, straightening up from slipping on his sneakers.

“I was wondering if you would be willing to join me on the train ride home, it’s on the way to Postwick and I’d love to spend some time together, just you and I.”  You flashed him a grin.

“Of course, anything for my biggest fan.”

Leon laughed as he slung his arm around your shoulders, you just groaned.  He’d started calling you that a while back as a joke, it had since grown a bit old for your tastes, but it made him smile, and you liked it when he smiled.

Gathering your things you headed out with Leon to the train station.  It was a relaxing ride, and for a moment you’d forgotten about the Loveball Applin rolling around in your bag.  That is until you’d reached your stop.  It was a little after 11:30, and you still had a bit of a walk to your place, as Leon strolled alongside you, your deadline of confessing on Valentine's Day was soon to pass.  It was now or never.  Fortuitously, the quickest way to your place was a shortcut through a rather beautiful park, the perfect place for a love confession.  In the middle of the park was a gazebo, and the city had lit it up with pretty pink and red lights, as well as decorating it with fresh arrangements of roses.  Stepping into the gazebo you turned to look at Leon.

“Beautiful isn’t it?”

“Gorgeous.”  The lights reflected in his eyes as he looked up at the ones hanging from the beams.

“It looks like it could be the setting for a confession scene in some cheesy romance movie.”  You gripped your bag tightly.

“Haha, yeah.  I can just imagine it.”  Leon smiled, Arceus, that smile could make your heart flutter every time.

Checking your phone it read 11:56, four minutes, it was REALLY now or never.  Swallowing the infamous lump in your throat you opened your bag.

“I actually have something for you.  I didn’t want to make a big deal back at Gordie’s but now that it’s just us, I want to give it to you.”

“Oh?”

Finding the Loveball you quickly grabbed it and presented it to Leon, holding your breath.

“A Loveball?”  Leon blinked a few times before taking it from your hand.

“T-there’s a Pokemon inside.  You should, um, let it out.”

11:58

“Oh!  Of course.”

The Loveball opened and a small burst of light shot out, fading away to reveal the Applin.  Time seemed to freeze as you waited for Leon’s response.  He grinned, an excited laugh escaping his lips.

“Ah sweet, you caught me an Applin?  I’ve wanted one for a while now.”  Reaching down he scooped the Pokemon into his arms.  “How’d you know?”

Dense, the man was fucking dense.

“Lucky guess I suppose.”

“Haha, well it paid off, I love her.  Now I just got to decide what to evolve her into.  You have an Applin too right?  Any suggestion?”

“Uh, I’m partial to Appletun, but it’s up to you.”

“True, maybe I should talk to Raihan about it.  He is a dragon trainer of course, or maybe Milo?  He’d have input on the grass typing.”  Leon started to ramble a bit.

Looking down at your phone it now read 12:02.

“Fucking hell.” You mumbled.

“Did you say something?”

Leon cocked his head, shaking your own you stuffed your phone in your pocket.

“Just talking to myself, it’s past midnight though, so we should probably get going.  You still need to head for Postwick.”

“Oh right, I nearly forgot.”

Leon returned the Applin to its ball and motioned for you to lead the way.  The rest of the walk home was filled with Leon telling you about the plans he had with Hop and the rest of his family later that day.  Despite the failure of a confession, it still warmed your heart to hear him talk so lovingly about them.

Making it to your place you stopped out front.

“Thanks for walking me home Leon.”

“It’s no problem, I love spending time with you.  Thanks for the Applin again, I’ll make sure to take great care of her.”

“I know you will Lee.”

Smiling, Leon placed his hand on your shoulder.

“You’re an amazing friend, I’m really lucky to have you in my life.”

Schrodingers fucking Delcatty.

“Back at ya.”

Waving goodbye Leon headed off for the train station, in the completely wrong direction.  After you quickly reminded him where it was he set off on his second attempt, fading away in the dark of the night.

“Back at ya?”  You groaned, heading inside.  “Fucking stupid.”

Hop woke up to the smell of coffee wafting upstairs from the kitchen, seeing as his parents were more avid tea drinkers it could only mean one thing.

“Leon!”  Hop jumped out of bed, not bothering to change out of his sleepwear.

Hurrying downstairs Hop practically drifted into the kitchen, Leon stood at the counter fixing himself a cup of coffee.

“When did you get home?  I waited a long time for you, but you never showed.”  Hop mildly scolded as he made his way over to Leon.

Leon chuckled apologetically, giving Hop a wave.

“Morning, I got back kinda late, well past midnight.  I was hanging out with friends yesterday, then I ended up accompanying [Y/N] home last night.”

Hop sighed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

“Well, you’re here now, I guess that’s what really matters.”

“Of course, glad you understand.”  Leon patted Hop on the shoulder

“I’d understand a lot more if you made me pancakes.”  He grinned mischievously.

“Why didn’t I see that coming?”  Leon sighed turning around to gather the needed ingredients and such.

Hop laughed, heading for the kitchen table, huffing as he saw Leon’s backpack lying on it.

“How many times do you need to be told to hang your bag up in the entryway?”

Hop reached for the bag, pulling it from the table, as he did so the pink Loveball rolled out from the open top.

“What the?”

Hop was certain he’d seen all of Leon’s Pokemon, and he was even more certain that none of them were in Loveballs.

“What’s the matter?”

Leon turned to him, a bowl cradled in his arm as he whisked a batch of batter.

“Since when do you use Loveballs?”  Hop asked, holding up the pink ball.

“Oh, [Y/N] gave it to me last night, it’s an Applin.  I guess they noticed I’d wanted one and got it for me.”

Hop blinked.

“What?”  Leon stopped whisking.

“[Y/N] gave you an Applin in a Loveball, on Valentine’s Day?”

“Yeah, why?”

Hop knew his brother could be a little oblivious at times, but this was a level of stupidity that he’d never seen Leon reach before, and he prayed to Arceus he’d never reach again.

“Lee, I’m gonna need you to think about that statement very carefully, and focus on what all those aspects could mean together.”

Leon scrunched his face up in confusion, setting the bowl of batter down he crossed his arms in thought.  Hop could almost see the wheels turning in Leon’s head as he thought hard.  And as if he were the human lead in that silly little kids show from both their childhoods, with that funny little shiny Rockruff, and her perfectly placed blue pawprint clues, Leon connected the pieces of the mystery together masterfully.  A look of realization, and a bit of horror, took over his face as he finally came to the conclusion.

“Was [Y/N] trying to confess their feelings to me!?”  He hollered.

“Keep your voice down, Mom and Dad are still asleep.”  Hop hushed.  “And I don’t know for sure, but I’d assume they were.”

“That would make so much sense, especially with the Gazebo.”  Leon gripped the edge of the counter tightly, staring down into the bowl of batter without actually looking at it.

“Gazebo?”  Hop questioned lightly.

“Doesn’t matter.”  Leon shook his head lightly, pushing himself back from the counter.  “I gotta go talk to [Y/N]”

Leon rushed for the entryway, grabbing his jacket and starting to put his shoes on.

“Woah there, slow down Lee.  What are you doing?”

Hop followed behind, placing himself between Leon and the front door.

“I have to clear things up with [Y/N].”

Hop sighed, shaking his head.

“Lee, we have plans today, besides, you’re still in your pajamas.”

Leon looked down, noting that he was, in fact, still wearing his ratty old tank top and loose sleep pants.

“You have a point there, but I feel terrible, they did something so romantic and I went and ruined it by letting it all soar right over my head.”

Leon rubbed at his face, hiding behind his hands.

“Lee, it’s gonna be fine.”  Hop placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.  “You’ll clear things up with them later, after you’ve gotten dressed and we spend the day together, besides, it’ll give you time to think about what exactly you’ll say right?”

Leon lowered his hands, giving Hop a tired smile.

“Yeah, you’re right.  Maybe I can ask Mom and Dad for some advice.”

“That’s the spirit.  Now, can you finish making my pancakes?”

Leon huffed, breaking out into a grin, ruffling Hop’s hair he slung his arm around his shoulder and dragged him back into the kitchen.

“Is that all you care about?”

It had been about two days since ‘The Incident’, you hadn’t tried talking to Leon yet and he hadn’t messaged you either, which had you feeling conflicted.  On the one hand, you weren’t particularly ready to talk to him, on the other, the thought kept running through you’re mind that he’d finally realized what the loveball Applin meant and was now actively ignoring/avoiding you.  It was definitely paranoia, you understood that, but understanding it didn’t make it go away.  Regardless, you laid back on the couch, looking through the videos YouTube suggested for you, you desperately scanned over the thumbnails looking for something to distract yourself with, unfortunately, nothing caught your eye.  Suddenly your phone buzzed.

‘Are you home?’

It was from Leon, your blood ran cold.

‘Yeah, why?’

You felt you knew why but needed some confirmation.

‘Can I come over?  I need to talk to you, it’s important.’

You felt your stomach tie into knots.  You, REALLY, didn’t want to see Leon right now.  You weren’t mad of course, but after the other night's failed confession?  You were feeling less than stellar.  You hadn’t even left your apartment since then.

‘Are you sure?  It’s getting kinda late, isn’t it?’

It wasn't that terribly late, but it was worth a shot.

‘That doesn’t matter, we need to talk, and it can’t be done over text.  Please?’

You wanted to say no, Arceus you wanted to say no, yet despite everything that had happened Leon was still your number one weakness.

‘Okay, you can come over.’

Leon thanked you, saying he’d be over in a few.  Taking a deep breath, you calmed your growing nerves and waited.

Leon must have been nearby already, seeing as it only took about ten minutes for him to knock on your door.

"Hey, Leon."

Opening the door you greeted him with the happiest and calmest tone you could muster.

"Hey, thanks for letting me come over."  He smiled nervously as he stepped inside.

“Well, you did say it was important.”

You gave a forced chuckle, your heart pounding in your chest as you shut the door.  Leon nodded without a word, though his eyes spoke plenty enough for him.  You could tell he was just as anxious as you, yet it didn’t make you feel any better.  You stood in silence a moment, the two of you just staring, you’d expected him to say something.

“Sooo, what did you want to talk about?”  You finally decided to break the silence.

Leon swallowed heavily, blinking a few times before seemingly mustering up the nerve to speak.

“It, uh, has to do with the Applin you gave me.”  Slinging his bag off from his shoulders Leon rummaged in it a moment before pulling out a loveball. “I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but it took Hop pointing out the significance of everything for me to realize what you were trying to say.  Or, at least, what I think you were trying to say.”

Leon stared down at the ball in his hand, running his thumb back and forth across it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get it at first, I certainly feel like an idiot, it’s so obvious in hindsight.”  He gave a soft nervous laugh.

Clearing his throat he looked up at you.

“Regardless, I um, I keep finding it hard to, uh, find my words.  So, here.”  He held out the loveball.

Your heart skipped a beat and your breath caught in your throat, was he returning the Applin?  Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill over as you slowly reached out to take the loveball from him.  You felt weak and shaky, half expecting your legs to give out on you at any moment.  Holding the loveball in your hand just made it worse, quickly, you moved past Leon to set it on the counter separating your kitchen from your living room.

“T-thanks.”

Wiping the tears from your eyes you wondered why thanking him was your immediate response, though to be honest, you weren’t sure how one would normally respond to a situation like this.

“Oh, uh.”  Leon seemed confused, looking back and forth between you and the loveball. “Aren’t you gonna let it out?”

Oh, that felt like adding an insult to injury.

“No.”  The word came out a bit angrier than you’d intended, you adjusted your tone going forward. “I get it, Leon, you don’t feel the same way about me as I do you so you’re returning the Applin. I don’t need to see it.”

You’d taken to squeezing your hands, your gaze drifting away from Leon.  If you were looking at him though, you would have seen his eyes widen and his complexion pale a bit.  Suddenly he was waving his hands.

“NO!  No no no, you misunderstand, that’s my fault, I’m sorry.  I should have been clearer.”

You looked back in time to see Leon grab the ball off the counter and place it in your hand, his one hand holding your wrist his other keeping the Loveball in your palm.

“Just open it, I promise.  Trust me.”

You blinked a few times in shock, but seeing Leon's soft hopeful smile filled you with comfort.  You nodded your head and went to send out whatever was in the ball.

“Wait, wait.”  Leon stopped you suddenly.

Looking around, Leon proceeded to move your dining table and chairs over to the side, as well as push some other furniture and stuff around.  Once he seemed pleased with the space he’d made he came back over to your side.

“Okay, you can continue now.”

Giving a small laugh you smiled and called out the Pokemon.

A flash of light shot out from the loveball, and even before the Pokemon had fully appeared you could tell it was bigger than an Applin.  Once it was fully present it took you a second to register what you were looking at, but once you had, you gasped.

“A Ponyta?”

You grinned and squealed in joy as you approached the adorable little pastel Pokemon.  It whinnied and danced around a moment before coming over to where you’d settled on your knees near it.  You ran your hands through its mane and over its coat of fur.

“I know how much you’ve wanted one, and how unlucky you’ve been with finding one for yourself.  So, I spent the majority of today and last evening looking for this little guy.  I actually got lost in Glimwood Tangle for a bit, Madame Opal had to help me find my way back to the main path.  I’m not sure how she knew I was lost but thank Arceus she did.”

You laughed along with Leon, combing your fingers through the Ponyta’s mane some more.  Giving it a final scratch behind its ear you returned it to the loveball and stood up.  Holding the ball with both hands you smiled looking down at the heart on the front of it.

“You didn’t have to do all that.”  You said softly.

Leon stepped closer, gently taking hold of your wrists.

“I wanted to.”

Looking up at him you smiled, moving your right hand up to cup his cheek.

“Oh, Lee.”

Moving your hand to the back of his head you pulled him towards you as you leaned in closer, connecting your lips.  Leon wrapped an arm around your waist, the other coming up to cradle the back of your head as well.  The two of you stayed like that for a moment, enjoying your first kiss, after breaking away Leon spoke.

“I’m sorry I caused you so much stress.”

“Well, if I’d been able to gather enough courage to confess properly in the first place there wouldn’t have been any confusion.”

Leon laughed a bit.

“Why don’t we say we’re both at fault and call it even?”

“Deal.”

[howthebestwaslost-blog]

At one point, Rogue (or whatever name he goes by at that time) realises that Earth’s history for some reason is a prime hunting ground for alien criminals. He figures that he can save a lot on fuel by just going up and down a relatively stable timeline, and he can even employ a native! So he’s strolling around quaint old 21st century Earth when he overhears one of those earthlings talking excitedly about some insane adventure they had. It doesn’t hurt that they’re really cute, too. By the time they understand that Rogue was talking about an actual spaceship while the Earthling’s adventures were completely imaginary, they’re already getting along far too well. So Rogue gives a little tour around space (it’s not like he’s trying to impress his new friend, he just wants to show them the ropes), then it’s off to history! And despite their wild exploits being only the product of a strange little game, his local guide proves incredibly useful as soon as they land. “Dressed like that? No, we need to go undercover. It’s bad enough that our target is dressing one century off…”

They start calling him, teasingly, their ‘lovable rogue’ and the nickname sticks. He rigs the whole interior of his ship, so they can listen to their old earth ballads wherever they are.

He removes the clutter from the crew cabin so his guest can sleep there, and after a while he puts away the hammock and moves in with them (if you’re piloting a ship for two on your own, staying close to the main console at all times seemed like a good idea; he suspects now that he might have been lonely). Their lovingly hand painted figurines move in, too, as do the dice. “This is not a game”, he keeps telling them on their missions when they whisper, bright-eyed, about rolling… whatever? He’ll get it one day. They leave their dice on the console as they walk out behind him towards another adventure.

“Did you get your name from Dungeons and Dragons?” the annoyingly handsome (and handsomely annoying) murderous bird alien asks him.

No, he wants to say, I got it from the best person in the universe, and I lost them to a bastard like you. But you wouldn’t understand - this is just a game to you. But he smiles in spite of himself.

“Roll for insight”, he answers instead.

[sapphicforsarahh]

best hands ive ever seen pt.2

ship: loubbie x fem!reader

word count: 695+

warnings: none, mention of sex but none (yet)

synopsis: You finally learn what Lou and Debbie want with you.

part 1

After what seemed like the longest car ride, you eventually reached wherever these women were taking you. “Let’s go honey,” Lou taps your leg and urges you to get out. You do as you’re told and stand next to the car, waiting for the other women to guide you where you needed to be. Debbie smiles at you at walks towards an old building, which looks like it should be abandoned. “Is this where you’re taking me?”, you ask nervously. Lou chuckles, “don’t worry, its much nicer inside.”

Lou tosses Debbie the keys and waits for her to open the door, then you take a look inside. A massive loft, covered with expensive furniture, shelves stacked with records and racks cluttered with fur coats and empty hangers. “Do you guys live here?”, you ask, still inspecting the place. “Well, not so much anymore, it’s pretty much just where we plan,” Debbie explains, throwing the keys on a nearby table. “Plan?”, you question, sitting down on the sofa. “We should probably explain,” Lou sits down on the chair in front of you, Debbie adjacent. “Lou and I have been doing this for years, getting away with stealing and making millions from it. And Lou happened to find you, a girl with good hands,” Debbie explained, Lou nodding along with her. “Basically, we’re asking you if you’d want to be in the next heist?”, Lou asked bluntly.

You were shocked to say the least. That’s definitely the last thing that you were expecting from these two women. “I, uh. I’m not sure what to say,” you laugh out. “Well?” Lou teases, leaning forward, placing both her hands on your knees. You blush, obviously, and look at Debbie, hoping for some sort of support, but she just cocks her head and raises a brow. “S-sure,” you answer, unconfidently.

"Please doing business with you," Debbie shakes your hand. It was just now that the two women realised they never caught your name. "Oh, I'm Y/N by the way," you said, as if reading their mind.

-------

Over the coming days, you learn their body language and how they spoke to eachother. Lou was extremely flirty with everyone that she saw, apparently, and Debbie was there to apologise for her. You also noticed how much more intense the flirting had became. Both women teased with you and gave eachother a smirk.

One night, after the rest of the group had went home and Debbie had went to bed, it was only you and Lou up. She had poured you a whiskey with ice, however she had it neat. Her leg propped up on the table in front of you both, one hand held her glass, the other entertaining a lighter. "So, Y/N," Lou begins, her low voice helps to accentuate her accent. You turn her attention to you and also prop your foot on the table. "Are you single? Any lady we should be aware of," Lou jokes, sipping her whiskey and raising a brow.

You blush and hesitate to answer, Lou grows impatient. "So?", she pries. "Well, no. It's a bit complicated," you say quietly, almost embarrassed. Lou only hums in response, waiting for you to continue. "I've never really had a thing for girls my age," you practically stutter out. Lou's smirk was plastered across her face. "You have a thing for older women honey?", her lighter is soon thrown on the table and she moves closer to you.

Nervously, you clear your throat before answering, "you could say that." The older woman clearly notices the tension rising between you and decides to see how far she can go. "So, Debs and I, we've been talking," her veiny hand is palming your knee. You nod, thinking that it's better not to speak. "Would you be interested in joining us? In the bedroom?" Lou asks a bit too casually.

So many thoughts are going through your head. The main one being: yes. All you could do at that moment is nod. Lou simply hums before downing the rest of her whiskey, giving you a quick kiss to the forehead before whispering in your ear, "Stay the night, we have a spare room."

---------

Taglist: @mllkw33ds @isle-of-earle @chillinftladygaga @cordeliaswife @angelick1sses @gmtsu @thenazwife @ladysc @midnightlove30 @blanchettlovebot @bellasbaxters

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[kingsandbastardz]

It's still insane to me that for all anyone knew, including LLH himself, LXY killed DFS. Killed. As in his corpse is floating at sea somewhere.

And yet, LLH took the pieces of the ship that he helped destroy - that same ship he'd speared DFS into and built a house with it. He lived in it, literally surrounded by a physical reminder of that last encounter. And then for the next decade, slowly rebuilt it, transformed it into something that was his.

And the second memento he kept was the Yingzhu armor -- which you could say represented a happier time? Which he also used as a potholder, which meant he was seeing it constantly. He wasn't keeping it stashed in a box or a drawer somewhere. It was something he would have to handle every day.

Just what was LLH holding onto?

One of the things I associate DFS for is his sense of free-spiritedness. Or at least, the desire for that freedom and a constant fight for it. He says what he wants, does what he wants, goes where he wants. The only times he cares about what other people say or expect from him is when he can weaponize it and use it to his advantage. Otherwise he doesn't give a shit.

Everyone wants to chain him down, but he will gnaw his own limbs off to fight his way free. So I find it really interesting that the moving house, made from his ship, becomes LLH's method of freedom where he too can wander wherever he feels like it. And later, it also becomes representative of FDB's freedom as well.

I wonder if DFS ever realized the Lotus house's origins? What would he have thought about his "old friend" building a house out of their shared coffin? What did he think of what it was transformed into?

It's easy to say that DFS had less character influence than the other two, or that his main role was to bring in information about the past or provide plot movement and not so much stuff like character development. Most of his contribution involved reminding LLH of the past or highlighting parts of LLH for the audience - less to do with himself as part of a trio. But like his actions, almost anything he does tends to be under the radar, so isn't it poetic that even without being present, he could be considered representative of the very thing both LLH and FDB seek? To be someone able to live free from others' expectations, to go where you want to go, and do the things you want to do and be able to ignore the world if you feel like it?

And isn't it ironic that DFS can be seen as a symbol of this yet is bound by so many invisible chains? Muted by his own character and traumas and trapped by people who are trickier and far less principled than he is? Yes, I include LLH as part of these people trapping him. But unlike the others, LLH willingly lets him go. It's just this shared connection is the one chain DFS doesn't want to let go of.